The Strange & Awesome Tale of George Fabian Weasley

What the fuzzy?

2009-10-30T05:48:31Z

Pre-Hallowe’en’s prob’ly the busiest time o’ year, even busier than April Fools’ Day. Some people prefer to trick, and for the treaters, we got quite a selection! The Maison’s been open the entire week for Hallow-hols, mostly readyin the staffers for Hogsmeade Weekend. Fredgie and me were thinking on having a first anni bash, but we’ve been far too busy and with no manager of the Maison to cut us a little slack.

With no Lee for ages or promise of, Trudes is still workin the Maison. She looks forward to seein her gal, which I’m right glad about, since Aley’s gone (she was a little mopey, havin her pal gone). So it’s Clone, Miles, and Me.

A young couple walks in the front door, just sorta wanderin around. She’s seems to be huffy bout something or other, and I can’t help overhearin a bit of their convo.

”I swear, Jim, you could have told me your mum was coming to stay a bit earlier.” She says in this not so quiet but sorta tryin to be quiet way, “You could have given me some warning.”

“Look I didn’t know either.” The bloke says defensively, “I don’t know what you’ve got against my mum anyway.”

“Couldn’t help eavesdroppin,” I call over, “Mainly ‘cause I didn’t wanna help it, but ya might wanna give a look to aisle Green over there. There’s some good air-lighteners ya might appreciate, the botha ya.”

They look up, surprised, then glance furtively at one another and start makin for the aisle. I can still sorta hear ‘em though, and it sounds like they might need more than air lighteners.

“Your mum is a complete snob.” The girl hisses loudly, “She hates me- take it up with her.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Jim protests, “And I can’t believe you would say that.”

“Oh so that’s how it is.” The girl says coldly, eyeing him. The tense silence is broken by the tall bloke over near the fake spiders sneezing explosively. He flourishes out a bright purple hanky and wipes his nose, saying, “Sorry, sorry.”

The young couple seem to be just glaring now, and then the girl makes a disgusted noise and says, “Well it’s obvious who is more important to you, Jim. I’m leaving.”

She storms off for the door, the bloke following along protesting behind her.

Hmm, well dunno quite about the promise o that relationship. Somebody needs ta lighten up. Maybe I shoulda directed them over to aisle vermillion.

“I tell ya, Clone,” I say, leanin on the counter. “A relationship’s gotta have a healthy sense o humour, or it’s doomed at the start.”

No sooner’s it outta my mug than I wish I could snatch it back in. What with, er…recent disintegrations. The clone’s down from time ta time, when he can get a breath to be down what with all the work we got, and I try ta get a smile on ‘is face as often as possible.

“Yeah, s’pose,” he says, and I can hear that shadow in ‘is voice.

“Course, ya know, some people might think of it, putting up with us, like Mum used ta say?” I comment, thinking maybe I oughta stop but wantin ta make ‘im feel loved an appreciated, ‘cause damned if he ain’t. “That’s a pleasure, that is. Wouldn’t wanna moment o’ peace, s’all about puttin up with my clone.”

"Aw, but that's you 'n' me, clone. We love puttin' up with each other because it's just bein' us," he says. "But - not that we give a rat's arse, mind - but we do get the idea ev'ry once in a while that the rest o' the world has a little trouble dealin' with our brand o' humor. Heh. 'Course, s'pose they wouldn't mind half so much if they knew how much money it could make 'em, eh?"

“Scuse me. Mister?” we look down to see some little kid, twistin the hem of his shirt in his hands and doin that unmistakeable dance, “I gotta go. Where’s the loo?”

Ooooooooh, Padsamighty. How I hate that dance! Means the tykes about two seconds from burstin his bladder all over our clonish faces…and two seconds on the wrong side, mind! Gah, know the kid’s gonna just paint pretty pictures on the wall. They always do. That’s why we never put the loo to code to make it a public room. Strictly staffers-only. But if we don’t let him in, it’s gonna be deterimental to our wares.

I sigh and look at the clone. “Alright, get the turkey.”

"Pads, s'pose the kid can carry it?" Fredgie asks. "From the looks, we don't wanna put any undue pressure on 'is bladder. 'Course, from the looks, we don't wanna delay none, either." He rushes through the door to the back room and returns hauling a life-size turkey, complete with plumage, with a little dangling key attached to a string on its gobble.

“I really gotta go!” the kid whines, stomping his feet, “HURRY!!”

“Keep it in little longer,” I tell the kid about the same time the turkey lets out a thunderous gobble.

"Yeah, kid, don’t breathe" Fred says, rushing around the counter and pointing him in the direction of the loo excitedly. "Right over there, right there!"

The kid takes off, the turkey bouncin around an gobblin all over.

“Oh no,” I groan. “He’s gonna take the blasted thing in there with ‘im and make it a yellow turkey!”

“Oi, I got a question.” This slouchy teenager mumbles, shakin his hair out of his eyes, “How much is this?”

"Four Galleons, six sickles," Fred tells him absently, glancing back and forth between the teenager and making sure the little tyke doesn't burst before he gets through the loo door.

“Thanks.” Slouchy mumbles and heads off. Kid seems to have gotten to the loo alright, but we keep an eye on the door til he comes back with the turkey. Lil menace gives us what he must think is his winningest smile as he hands us the key, and says, “Thanks. All better.”

“Sure hope so,” I mumble through my teeth of my not-really-winningest smile.

Fred's making a face as he collects the turkey from the tyke, and I'm not sure why, but I can hazard a guess. He's holding it very gingerly and looks over at me with a grimace. "Yeah, it's a tad...damp - and don't even wanna get close enough to take a whiff."

I make a face, but before I can say anything, the door to the basement swings open and Pip pokes her lil blonde head out and peers around.

“Hey, boss?” she calls over to us, “I was wondering….” She trails off and cocks her head, thinking, “Oh, never mind.” And just as quick she came up, she’s gone again.

Right. Hmm. Well, maybe she needed ta use the turkey and caught a wiff from the thing.

I shake my head, and we all get back to business. Right weird day today. Everything seems to be getting back to normal- well, normal for us- when the door breezes open and a young couple come wanderin in…

”I swear, Jim, you could have told me your mum was coming to stay a bit earlier.” She says in this not so quiet but sorta tryin to be quiet way, “You could have given me some warning.”

“Look I didn’t know either.” The bloke says defensively, “I don’t know what you’ve got against my mum anyway.”

Fred looks at me and I look at Fred, then we look at the couple, heading for the same place in the shop they did before. "They're baaaaa-ck..." he singsongs, watching them with an odd look on his face. "Some people just dunno when to quit, ya know?"

“Your mum is a complete snob.” The girl is hissing loudly-again, “She hates me- take it up with her.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Jim protests, “And I can’t believe you would say that.”

Either my ears deceive me, or these two are really stuck on this thing about the mum-in-law. Makes me think it's too bad I don't know a good marriage counselor what could pull in a Galleon or two sortin' out these two. Prongs knows it could take a while.

“Oh so that’s how it is.” The girl says coldly, eyeing him.

Bloke by the spiders must be allergic or some such, cause he just about blows his head off sneezing again- flourishin out that hanky and apologizin up and down.

The young couple seem to be just glaring now, and then the girl makes a disgusted noise and says, “Well it’s obvious who is more important to you, Jim. I’m leaving.”

She storms off for the door, the bloke following along protesting behind her.

The pursuit of happiness...for others

2009-10-12T05:28:12Z

I look at the moleskin fabric in my hands and rub the butter-smooth surface. If only I could get it right. If only I could figure out what to do to make it work the way I want. I’ve studied so much about happiness, I got happiness pukin’ outta my ears. Only the facts, that is. Only the facts.

My clone…my clone’s in a real bad place at the mo. Never seen ‘im so down and hurt and desparin. I wanna wrap ‘im up in happiness, but I can’t get the Comforter right. I been tryin for months on end, on all my sleepless nights, but no luck. Well, marginal luck, but we want the whole page.

I’m sleepless again, but not for the nightmares like it was for so long. I am upset, but it’s about Fredgie. I’m worried. I remember how tough it was with Angie, and that was certainly understandable, since we was friends with ‘er for so long. We were mates all those years, teammates, above that. So yeah, it was a bit tough with her.

I look out through the fire from the secret nook in the back o the fireplace. Clone’s asleep in his cot, beside my empty one. I didn’t want him to be alone. We clones don’t do well alone. We’ve always had somebody around. We find it comforting. But I can’t hug him every livin minute. I may want to, but I can’t. We got work to do, businesses to run. But I’ll be here for him as much as I possibly can, and maybe even give ‘im a little happiness he can snuggle up with when he’s alone (iffin, say, I gotta use the loo).

I lift the bag o’ herbs and sniff at it. I soaked these bad boys in potions and solutions, so’s the smell’s real understated, but the effect of it (think they call it aromatherapy) is real intensified. It’s only part o’ what I did to the Comforter…well, haven’t quite done that yet, gonna do it now. But put a sorta modified cheerin charm on the moleskin and treated the fabric with some little solution I made when I was working on tryin to concentrate on the qualities o chocolate. It brings a boost to your spirits after an attack from a dementor. Thought I might give it a try for my happy blanket.

I use a slow spell to stretch out the herb bag, makin it stretch into a long noodle of a container. Want the herbs in there as even and unbulgy as possible. Once I got that done, I reach down for the rotten-tomato shaped pincushion. I turn myself so’s I’m facin outside the room to look at my clone, and as I fold over the unfinished edge of the blanket and wrap it around the now-spaghetti-thin sachet, I think back to the day when Fredgie came home…looking how I never wanted to ever see him. Heartbroken.

When there's something feared in the neighbourhood

2009-08-12T08:45:41Z

Fredgie’s in the kitch whippin’ up a mondo plate of his Nachos Murcielagombre (Batman Nachos) for our movie night. It’s the first time in a while we’ve got a chance to sit down and be clonish in the quiet of our Chez. Usually, one of us is off at the Maison, tweakin’ stuff, the other’s at the shop doin’ somesuch. ‘Tis a busy season, especially when kids is home from Hogwarts and the childers is home from primary. And where, oh where, are they gonna spend all their time and pocket money? Why, none other than the Wheezes.

The Maison’s been even busier. Wish The Lee would hurry up and prank us so’s we can relax a bit more. The kids got a taste of our Maison over Hogsmeade weekend, spread word, drag their mums and dads up there on the weekends to have a bit o’ fun. Invite their friends. We’ve had a few parties there. Thankfully, we’ve had the new graduates workin’ there. Trudes trains ‘em. Packlesby tries to teach ‘em bad habits. Dox gives ‘em lessons in how to be inventive with your pranks. Now we gotta figure who to keep beyond seasonal. But there’s still another couple weeks ‘fore we have to worry on all that stuff. In the meantime, time for a little rest and clonely time.

I sigh in satisfaction and snap open the Quibbler. Nothin’ much goin’ on these days. Them pesky metalmites keep chewin’ up cathedral bells and causin’ cacophonous calamity all over Great Britain. And there’s a how-to for brushin’ comb teeth. Other than that…

…well now that’s interesting. Might actually be something to it, too.

Mysterious Morgue Multitudes Freshened by Fear

Classic Quibbler style. Read between the lines? The death toll’s gone up mysteriously and it looks like folks’ve gone and frightened ‘emselves to death.

"So clone, anythin' good in the Quibbler today? Read me somethin; whilst I create a masterpiece, eh?" Fred requests, stirrin' in some shredded black jack cheese for the sauce.

“Sure, sure,” I say, folding the page down. “Sorta on a somberererer note, but…

“’An outbreak of deaths began last fall, ignored by the Ministry and such mass-serialized publications as The Daily Prophet. Though the deaths show no similarities, we believe them all to be connected, purely in the oddity in their nature. A few near-deaths can be connected, too, for the same reason.

“’Where the Ministry and Slanderous Lies of the Prophet may see a soulless shell of a wizard and a stone witch no more connected than a nargle and a rugby scab, we at the Quibbler believe there is every similarity in the world. In examining each death or near-fatality, one can easily draw conclusion that each death was done by a great force when no scrap of evidence to said force was found upon inspection (we assume, as our credentials were laughed from the premises and a restraining order threatened upon us). It can therefore be safely said that these deaths are all wrought on by the embodiment of our fears and nothing else.’”

"Dyin' from fear and nothing else?" Fredgie says, glopping the melted black cheese onto the yellow chips. "Literally scared to death, eh? Always hard to tell with the Quibbler staff, but - how could there be no evidence? Somebody dies, there's gotta be a why, right? And usually some sign o' why."

“Reckon it’s a Think Outside the Box sorta thing only the kooks at the Quibbler could figure,” I say, reading it over again. “And they said the embodiment of fears. What do ya reckon that means?”

"Well, an embodiment means it has a body, yeah? So what kinda body shows up when you're afraid o' somethin'?" He sets a plate of nachos down on the table next to me and sits down with his own.

I look at Fred for a mo, him just lookin’ back at me, and think of what it would mean if my fear had a body. As I start to picture Fredgie’s eyes gone dead and vacant, just staring, his body limp, the rest of ‘im gone still, I feel a cold creep up my neck and I shiver. I’ve seen it before. A few times. My worst fears made real right in front o’ my eyes.

“Boggart,” I say, fair feelin’ my freckles pale as well.

Pulling away the drippy black chip he was about to pop into his mouth, he snaps his gaze toward me. "Boggart? Hot damn, Geordie, you're right! That'd be the embodiment of anybody's fears, a boggart! And o'course they change accordin' to what anybody's afraid of, yeah? But I never heard o' any killin' people. Merlin, they let 'em into class at Hogwarts and ya know they'd never let in nothin' lethal there - well, save Hagrid's socks."

“Yeah, but Moony was there,” I point out. “He could laugh like a marauder, he could. But think on it, clone. If you saw what you were afraid of and you couldn’t laugh it off, what’d you do?” I know personally, I woulda just slunk right there on the floor and sat there with my dead Fred ‘til I died o’ hunger or something. Wouldn’t wanna be without him. “Some people can’t see how to make those sorta things laughable, even if they know they’re fake.”

Fredgie's face goes a bit more serious at that. "Yeah, remember that time in Grimmauld Place? One of the buggers got Mum trapped and she was a fair wreck by the time we got 'er outta there."

I nod, remembering too. Fair wreck is bein’ kind, actually. Was all shivery and weepy. She’d squeeze us any chance she got for the next week! I chew on a nacho. “Imagine, the last thing you see bein’ the thing you’re scared of most…” I look at Fredge and then immediately wish I hadn’t said anything. I don’t know what he fears most. I know what he used to, but it mighta changed. What if it’s not me anymore?

"Yeah," he says, shaking his head and poking at a black cheese lump on his plate to scoop more on his chip. "That'd be the worst, havin' to have that on your mind like the whole rest of eternity, or some such."

“And with all’s happened in our world of late, there’s prob’ly some hellacious stuff poppin’ up in boggart form. A fair bit o’ You-Know-Poos, I’d wager. Dementees. Death Eaters. There’s loads o’ stuff any sane person’d be scared shitless by.”

"That's a fact." Fred looks like he's thinkin' for a minute. "Though in the end, it's usually somethin' to do with family what scares people the most. For those who've got family, anyway."

I nod and look at Fred. Not sure if he’s meanin’ that for me, of if ‘e’s just sayin’. “Not quite sure what most folks would do to that to make it laughable. S’pose I found mine. I was lucky.”

"Yeah," he tells me, "I remember. But Prongs - you're a ruddy expert at finding the humor in things, and look how tough it was for you. Think how hard it'd be for the average Joe. Especially if ya had to think of it on the spur of the moment or summat."

I scratch my chin with the edge of a chip and nod. “Too true, my clone. Too true. Those poor folk don’t got the natural instinct for making anything a laughin’ matter.” I look down at the pool of black cheese and stir the chip in it. “Looks like tar. Good job on this stuff.”

"Ta, clone." He looks right chuffed, he does. "Always feel good about preparin' a good, nutritious, and yet on-the-verge-of-revolting meal for ya."

I grin at him and chomp on the chip for a mo. “And same goes for me.” Yeah, this is the life, it really is. “Say, we better get this movie started iffin’ we’re gonna get any inventing done tonight.”

"Yup, too true," Fred says, standing and picking up his plate. "Refill before we go on nachos? Drinks?"

“Sure. Coupla butterbeers sounds good. Ta.”

Fredgie picks up his wand and opens the ice box, 'Mobilibottles' a couple out for us, then pushes the door closed with his foot. He starts to head into the other room, the bottles following close behind him as he keeps his wand on them.

"The movie in here already or...?" he asks.

“Yeah. Just gotta lower the screen and we’re all set,” I say as we settle into our seats and Reggie jumps up into my lap.

Fred looks over at her. "Ah, and the princess deigns to bless us with her presence. Where ya been, Reg?" He reaches over to scratch under her chin once he gets the bottles set down on the table. "Oh - ya said somethin' about a screen, didn't ya?" He picks up his wand again and points it, muttering an incantation that brings it down to the right level.

Reginald closes ‘er eyes and her purr sounds like a roar, it’s that loud. “Ah, my little lap barnacle. Alrighty, you ready, Clone?” I ask, my finger hovered over the button.

"Ready, willin', and waitin'," he says, leaning back and putting his feet up on the table in front of us. "Carry on at will, Geordie."

I press the button as Fredgie dims the lights. The eerie 80’s movie score starts up and the screen shows the majestic front of a big stone library building, a lion sittin’ out front. Stone lion o’ course. My own li’l lion purs on my lap, kneedin’ ‘er little kneazle claws into my thigh.

“Spoooooooooky,” I whisper to clone as the scene cuts to some older librarian lady walkin’ through narrow shelves.

The movie continues, the blokes investigatin’ the ghostie what popped up in the library, then get tossed outta the school for lack o’ results. Then the tall bloke with the glasses and the huge nostrils starts talkin’ ‘bout containing ghosts, and they decide to start up a business doin’ just that. Mortgages. Old should-be-condemned firehouse. Wicked vintage ambulance. The whole set-up’s pretty sweet, if I does say so m’self.

“Somebody saw a cockroach up on twelve.”

“Must be one hell of a cockroach.”

“Bite your head off, man.”

“Going up?”

“I’ll take the next one.”

“Wouldn’t that be awesome,” I say as we watch the guys blast at some slimy green thing, “if we had one o’ them neutron packs or something we could blast at the boggarts?”

Fred laughs. "Yeah! Yeah, it would! We could make up a prototype for the kids, ya know? And then-" He turns to look at me and sobers a bit. "Hey - you're not takin' the mickey, are you? You're not thinkin' 'kids' either, from the looks."

I shake my head. “Not kids,” I say, and what I thought’d really been fun speculation I realize is actually a serious thought. “Our motto’s always been ‘make ‘em laugh,’” I say. “Something we learned long ago took a professional prankster. These blokes here, they studied ghosties same way we’ve studied the funny bone. Maybe boggarts, like ghosts, need a professional to flush ‘em out.”

Fredgie sits and thinks on that for a minute. I can almost hear his brain gears whirrin'. "Ya know, clone? I think you're onto somethin' there. Those people who died of fright from the boggarts...maybe they just needed a bit o' inspiration as to what form their Riddikulus should take, eh?”

“Or step in if it looks fatal,” I say with a shrug. “How d’you think we’d go about it? Think we’d be there to turn it into things? Make suggestions? Take over the battle?”

"Hmmm." He ponders that for a bit. "Not sure, really. It'd be hard for us to be there whenever a boggart popped up, eh? I mean, could be any time. And what if a whole lot popped up at once in different parts of the city? We'd never make it."

“Dunno,” I muse and then muse a bit more. And then a bit more. “Say, Clone, remember that thing we learned about, don’t remember how long ago it was, called a taboo?”

"Yeah, I remember somethin' about it - though I can't say as I remember the particulars."

“Well…think if I remember correctly,” I say slowly, “it’s some word the Ministry sets up so’s no matter where ya say it, a person can be found and got to immediately. Even through all them protection things. Like for emergencies or whatnot.”

"Oh yeah!!" He shoves the plate that was on his lap onto the table next to him and sits up straighter. "Yeah, I remember that goin' on. Wonder if it'd work for somethin' like that? It should, I'd s'pose."

“Yeah. Sorta like muggles’ve got that emergency number they call, we could have a taboo. Since loads o’ magic folk don’t have telephones.”

Fredgie's all excited-like and turns to me. "So how do we get the taboo, eh? S'pose it'd have to be more than somethin' like those coins HerMoanie set up for the DA. Hehe - hey. It'd be pretty cool if a siren went off in our pocket whenever somebody needed us!"

“I think…well, s’pect those things’re Ministry regulated, so we’d have to rub elbows with some high-ups. Need to ask our lawyer ‘bout that, though don’t know how much he can do. He’s all good for patents and whatnot, but getting’ this sorta thing, you’ve gotta be in good graces with the right people.”

"Yeah, for the taboo." He doesn't look as excited now. 'Fact, he's frowning a bit in thinkin', I think. "Hmmm. We don't always get along so well with the high-ups. Hope it's easier than some of the other things we've tried.”

“That I doubt,” I say. “Taboo’s pretty powerful. They’re not like to just hand that out to just anybody. We’d have to find somebody who’s got a serious in at the Ministry, or somebody who’s owed a favour by somebody in the Ministry.”

Fred sits and thinks seriously for a few minutes. "Prongs. There's gotta be somebody we've got somethin' on. Well, you know - if we can't think of anybody to go the honourable route with."

“We could have Devilcakes dig up some dirt for us,” I suggest. “Or find us somebody we know could use their connections to our advantage.”

"Yeah...Devilcakes!" He gets an evil expression on his face, if I might say so myself. I've even gotta say it looks like myself. "How could I forget? Geordie, you're an evil genius, you are!"

“Takes one to know one!” I retort. “S’been a while since Devilcakes has had a capital excuse to poke around. And in the meantime…think we might wanna give our new Sister-In-Law a nice little scoop!”

"Ah yeah! Hadn't ever thought o' that before, but Meggary's a good connection to have if we need a little Prophetly access," he says. "Especially now she's one o' the family. Wonder if there are any laws on the books about not havin' to testify against your brothers-in-law? I know it works for husbands and wives. Dependin' on how good a scoop Devilcakes digs up, o' course - or how good we can make it."

“Besides, if she gets the ball rollin’ early with this story, we might not even have to spend much on adverts.”

"Too true, Geordie. Just havin' the Wheezes is a good advert in itself. Most everybody knows what humorous fellows we are already, certainly suitable for blastin' a boggart."

“’Tis true, ‘tis true!” I reply. “And Fredge, just imagine the fiasco them sorta stories are like to cause. You remember what a state people were in when You No Poo went public. We were near bought out in a minute! Not that I’m sayin’ ‘Yay for boggarts, we’re gonna make a mint!’ but the moment somebody mentions a solution to that sorta scare, it’s bought up quick as biscuits.”

"Exactamundo! We'll just have to put the emphasis on the service aspect of it, yeah? You know, the fact that we're willin' to drop all we're doin' and head out for any taboo call we get. Ya know, clone-" Yup, more thinkin'. Good thing we had a good, nutritious Nachos Murcielagos dinner to feed those brain cells. "-We take this on, we're gonna have to hire more staff at the shop - and the Maison too, probably."

“’Tis very true,” I agree. “As it is, we don’t got enough.”

"True dat. And if you or me are workin' and all of a sudden gotta suit up to go banish boggarts, it could really complicate things." Fred picks his beer up off the table and takes a swig.

“Speakin’ of, should we get us some jumpsuits like them?” I ask, pointing to the screen. “And some gnarly proton packs filled with gags? Too bad we can’t have an Ecto One to arrive in style, but that’d take way too long.”

"Yeah," Fred agrees. "We gotta have all that gear to be taken seriously - or unseriously, I s'pose - the works! And ya know - we could have an Ecto Two just for show. You know - park the buggy outside. For advert purposes, ya know? Just so's we look ready - even though we Apparate when the time truly comes."

I scratch my chin. “But park it where? Not enough room in either the Alley or Hogsmeade.”

"I dunno," he says, grinning wide, but looking a bit sheepish. "Guess I just want one. Musta been somethin' about Dad and the Anglia that rubbed off on me."

I laugh. “You and me both, Clone. But cor, that thing’s proper brill.”

"That it is, clone," he says. "You oughtta see it now, too! Ronnard pimped it out proper, he did. But alright, no Ecto Two for now. You reckon we run this place out of our pockets and the back room to start? Or we gonna need to plush out that weedy back stoop with some wizard space?"

“Don’t know as we’d really need a place for that sorta thing,” I answer. “Maybe just a small office space or summat. Hey, maybe we could run it from inside an Ecto!” I snigger. “Or…OH! Hey! I got it, Clone! Create some wizard space inside a cupboard! Sorta like where a boggart would hide, but when ya open the door, it’s a huge office with loads o’ bright wizbangs and thingamabobs!”

Fredgie just starts nodding his head, an enormous grin on his face. "Speaking of proper brill, clone - that you are! That'd be bloody awesome! Now that we've got room for in the back, eh? Just a little cupboard, with an entire staff and full equipment behind..."

“But the staff, clone,” I say slowly, leaning back in the chair. “With the taboo, they’d hardly let just anybody be allowed. Reckon it’d have to be just the two of us.”

"Yeah sure," he agrees. "But seein' as we are the whole staff, we gotta come burstin' outta that cupboard whenever the need arises, all dressed in our jumpsuits and outfitted with our gear and all. You saw Superman, clone! Come on! He has a phone booth - we got a cupboard!"

“That we do!” I cheer. “Could even be a wardrobe and we could call it Weasleys Wacky Wardrobe, though really nuthin’ beats Boggart Busters. And o’ course we’ll have to put Rings and Rascal on our jumpsuits. Should Reggie be on staff, too?”

"Yeah, 'course! Well, she'll have to be sworn to secrecy and all that. But she'll take to that, no problem. Kneazles are known for their secret-keepin' abilities, aren't they? Rings and Rascal, yeah sure. I s'pose we'll need the Boggart Busters logo on the front o' the cupboard, won't we? And the muzak - gotta have the muzak."

“Even better,” I say. “That weird Al bloke.”

"Weird Al! 'Course! Reckon we need to start playin' that in the shop, Geordie!"

“For sure!” I agree. “What we need to do is make a collection of all ‘is polkas. Those’re the best, in my opinion, though ya can’t deny his Spam is quite excellent. Spam is the place where you live, indeed! Now, quite a rancid thing to bring up when talkin’ ‘bout savin’ lives and all that, what do you reckon we oughta charge? S’pose it would depend on the maturity of the boggart.”

“Yeah, maybe we need to make it a time thing, ya know?" Fred says, thinking. "A weakly-formed boggart would cost less, but I'm assumin' that'd be because the person's tryin' to fight it themselves. A really strong one, where maybe even the person doesn't know how to fight it, that'd take a bit more time, work, and effort - hence, more moolah. Make sense to you?"

“Sorta,” I say. “S’pose. Something like a cabby? Keep the meter runnin and all that? But then there’s also the risk factor. Some o’ them fears are downright dangerous. What if we encountered a dementor, eh? Should load loads o’ Honeydukes in our Prank Packs. And then werewolves, wempires, basilisks, we’d have to charge risk-factor with them sorta things. Oi, Clone, you realize we’re gonna have to keep a whole Clonized First Aid kit, too.”

"Hmm - true. Formation of certain boggarts invoke higher charges. Maybe equipment charges too, dependin' on what we have to use to disintegrate 'em, eh? Yeah, we'll have to keep our body armour in tiptop shape, and the First Aid Kit at the ready." He yanks his shirt up and takes quick inspection of his body armour. "Yeah see? Maybe a bit shabby around the edges, but we can't have that as BoggartBusters."

I scratch my chin. “Well, s’almost been a year anyhow,” I point out. “Minus a month o’course. Should beef up the strength, me thinks, and ‘til we know if these things take on all the characteristics of the thing the person fears, like if were-bites really turn you into a wear and dementors suck out your soul…we’re really gonna have to think up a whole load more o’ protections. And even with GB in the pound, I can bet there’s gonna be quite a few weres we’ll have to contend with, what with what he and his pack were up to.”

“You've got a good point there, clone," he says. "Well, I s'pose it could help us out that we got some real-life experience with weres. 'Least, if we think it out and try to remember what all went on, exactly. Wasn't the best day for us, but if it could help us help out other people too..."

I nod. T’wasn’t the were part that had me scared that night. It was the thought that Freddie woulda died, and by my wand. Er…armour. But no matter the reason, that night is a tough one to think on. And I do occasionally, whether I want to or not.

“S’pose we might wanna hit up the Scar for some tips, too,” I suggest. “Since he’s dealt with the Moldy Wart ‘imself. And a fat load of other things, too. Basilisks, acromantulas…nah, we should ask Ronnard for tips on how to deal with Acromantulas.”

Fred bursts out laughing. "Yeah!" Then he tries to calm down. "Alright....business...decorum...this boggart stuff is no laughing matter." He tries to stuff it inside and get serious, but I can see it's only a matter of time. "Bwahaha! Yeah, we've got a sodding expert on Acromantulas!"

I smirk. That’s my clone. “Cor, Clone, boggart stuff is a laughing matter, that’s the point! S’why people make such a big stink about it, ‘cause they can’t just laugh it off! Like with Oldy Moldy! Talk about your party pooper. S’like we always tried to tell ‘em, he’s only won when ya can’t laugh at ‘em. And we’re gonna remind you how to laugh!”

"You're right as always, clone. It is downright sad when people can't laugh at somethin'. I s'pose laughin's always been such a big part of us that it's hard to imagine other people not bein' able to. Remember how well "You-No-Poo" sold when it first came out? People couldn't get enough. It is about teachin' 'em how to laugh, once we take care of the immediate threats, eh?"

“Too true,” I agree. “Though that does raise another question. Once we fly in and laugh them buggers into wisps of smoke, should we oughtta teach ‘em? Give ‘em some pointers?”

"Well, it'd cut into future business, all that's true," Fredge says, thinking. "We could add that on with an extra charge, for some follow-up trainin' for some o' the more stubborn boggarts. On the other hand, wouldn't it be one o' those sorta humane-kinda things to do? You know, share our abundant gifts with the whole of the wizarding world?"

I nod. “T’would cut into business, but then maybe we could have a boggart battler section of the store, too. ‘Sides, neglect could lead to deaths, and we wouldn’t want that on our heads. Business is worthless if your customers are dyin’.”

He nods this time. "Yeah, and after all we've done to try and make sure we get returnin' customers in the shop, we wouldn't want it to look like we were promotin' one-timers. So whadda we do first, clone? Probably set SweetCheeks in motion to help us get that taboo, eh?"

“Yeah. Wouldn’t take ‘er long to find somebody, I don’t figgur, but it’ll give us plenty o’ time to figure out how we’re gonna do this thing so’s we can lay it out for whomever’s gonna help get us that little taboo.”

"Better if we could do it in one shot, too. We don't wanna be makin' 'em nervous about givin' it to us by havin to take a stab at it with a couple different people. So she'd better make sure she's got the right one from the start."

“She’s pretty good,” I tell ‘im. “Snoopin’s her hobby. She’s prob’ly got so much dirt on everybody at the Ministry, she could retire now on blackmail money.”

"Aw, no!" he says, worried. "If worse comes to worse, tell her we'll pay 'er more for stayin'! We don't need her often, but we need her when we need 'er!"

I snort. “She does it for fun,” I tell ‘im. “Ain’t no worry of her turnin’ down a chance to snoop for galleons. Besides,” I add with a wink. “Got a little dirt on her, I do.”

"You're takin' the mickey! How'd ya do that?" He looks surprised. "You never cease to amaze me, clone. So am I privy to this little tidbit? Or is this a private till we need it scoop?"

“I’ll tell ya later, so’s we don’t get too distracted from these here plans.”

"Damn! That must be some blackmail material! But alright, reckon we should oughtta get back to business here. So - we get the taboo thing, thanks to her, and then what? What haven't we got covered?"

“Staff,” I say. “I mean, reckon it’s you and me for sure, but we can’t be on call all the time! When’d we get our inventing done? We’ve gotta have a couple more people, at least.”

"Ah yeah. I'd say at least a couple more. Couple for the register at the Wheezes, maybe another to kinda play troubleshooter between the Wheezes and the Maison. Sweet Padfoot, clone, we need some more of us. More clones o' the clones." He wrinkles a brow in thought.

“Guess our first step’ll be to ask Mum how she managed it.”

"Prongs, no, Geordie!" he says in a panic. "We already know that. Remember those videos o' her and Dad? Don't think I could take much more o' those myself."

I can’t help laughin at that. “Yeah, soz, Clone. But since that form o’ clonin’s out and we’re a long way off o’ figuring how to make ‘em in a lab, looks like we gotta find us some sturdy, unruffly sorta non-clones.”

"Yeah. I s'pose that's just gonna have to do. Well, lessee, we a promote-from within sorta corp? Trudes we already got kinda watchin' the store at the Maison. Miles doesn't do too bad at bein' unruffly, and he's been about for a while. Pip could probably be unruffly too, unless she got a really riled customer who started to look a bit too much like a blastable cauldron to 'er."

“Prob’ly best not with Pip,” I answer. “She may mean well, but she’s a bit of a klutz. Miles’d be good, prob’ly, and let’s not rule out Trudes just ‘cause she’s workin’ the Maison. Shifts’re always adjustable, and she made it clear she doesn’t wanna be in charge of the Maison and to find somebody to take over or else.”

"Yeah, s'pose she has, Trudes." He ponders a bit. "Plus, I reckon she's become a bit more diplomatic workin' the Maison. You know, given up on the death threats for the difficult customers what wouldn't go away and all. But who in Merlin's name would we get who could properly watch the Maison? It'd take a special prankster sort to do it justice, it would."

“Don’t forget, Lee’s application’s pending,” I remind ‘im.

"Ah yeah," he says slowly, obviously rememberin' just then. "I'd all but forgot. There's somebody who'd be good for the Maison and vice versa, I s'pose. Wonder how the Lee is on food prep, any idea?"

“Er…let’s keep food prep as much as is as we can,” I say. “I remember when he made that tuna surprise. It was…a surprise, alright.”

"Yeah, I reckon ya told me about that one. He claimed nobody had told him you need to cut the fish heads off first? Especially the ones half the size of your own?" Fredgie laughs. "That the time you mean? Or was there another tuna surprise?"

“The other tuna surprise,” I say. “And no, not the surprise there wasn’t any tuna. That was the other time. Nah, found bait in there.”

"Mmm - tasty! Well, people use fish eggs for bait and fish eggs for caviar. Leave to the Lee to make that sort o' jump in his head."

“Actually,” I intercept, “it was them tiny neon marshmallows.”

Fred snatches up a piece of poopcorn to chew on. "Still leaves us a mite short in the staffing department. S'pose we need to set up a sign in the window? That got us Pip - and the rest too, come to that."

“Dunno,” I say, shakin’ my head. “Figure this is gonna be like the bookkeeper thing. A job with this much power? We’re gonna have to be super selective.”

"True, dat." Fred sits there thinkin'. "Whaddya think? S'pose we should kinda ask around instead first? See if anybody who's anybody knows anybody what'd be good for the position? You know, ask the shopkeepers and the like."

“Should find out if we can even do this, first,” I point out. “And then figure out criteria to hire on. Tests. Training. That sorta thing. Clone, we is gonna be busy clones!”

"Well, yeah, first things first, like ring up DevilCakes and get that goin' to even see the possibles. But I've gotta admit, clone - yes, we is!" Fredgie holds up a hand to high five me and start us into our famous, see-if-you-can-remember-the-intricacies handshake.

“And once we’ve got her on the trail, we’ll need to contact Meggary. Think our new sis-in-law would love a pressie of a scoop, dontcha think?”

"Hey, not a better sister-in-law to be had anywhere, so yeah - I'm thinkin' she would! Besides, that'd be our first breakout advertisin', right?"

“Too true,” I agree. “Get the world in a worry and then give ‘em a solution.”

"Exactly! Hopefully there won't be loads more o' those goin' down right away, but when there comes the time - BoggartBusters'll be there!" Fred grins at me.

“Yeah!” I cheer. “When there’s somethin’ feared in your neighbourhood, who ya gonna call?”

"BoggartBusters!" Fred shouts, shoving himself up off the couch to dance, and then yanking me up with him. "Where in Padfoot's name is the theme music, clone?"

“Sounds like that’s up to us to make,” I say and feel a little music eek outta my bum. “Oi, you ask for it, clone, you got it.”

Fred laughs loud about that. "Not much of a dance rhythm, but I s'pose you can work on that. It's all that poopcorn, Geordie, livin' up to its name."

“That must be it,” I agree. Reggie comes racin’ into the room and weaves in and out of our legs. “Oi, looks like it’s a party. Ready, clone?” I ask, takin’ out my wand.

Fredgie whips out his wand too. "Ready!"

“Expecto Patronum!” we both shout out, and I know just what my happy thought is. It’s my clone! Out shoots the coatimundi and the raccoon, both of which race around the room with my little princess.

“Oi! X, join in!” I call over to our blue postbird. He gives out a hoot and hoops from side to side on ‘is perch. “Sp’ose you could draw up a sorta proposal for the bizz, clone?” I ask, as we bop around the room.

"Yeah, I s'pose I could do that!" he says, spinning on the spot. "Rough draft, here we come, and then we'll eek out the details together, eh?" Fredgie dances over to X and holds onto his little felt wing to swing a little.

“Together, together!” I cheer. “You know it, clone. So you got the rough draft, I got Meggary and Devil Cakes, and together we got an awesome idea for a new bizz!”

"That we do! Ah, the brilliance and magic that is us, Geordie!" Then we grab hands and swing each other round with the critters racin' around under feet as we dance the night away.

Absence makes the libido grow stronger

2009-08-10T02:42:05Z

Our meeting for last month got postponed. Iva’d been gone for a good while, so she had tons to get caught up on, and the 20th just happened to be the only day so-and-so could make it to a meeting or some such, so we pushed our little rendezvous off.

But now, yes now, we are free to unwind, get rid o’ some knots, and make ourselves sore with some more enjoyable entertainment.

I walk into Iva’s work and nod to the receptionist. “I gonna get to catch her by surprise? Or am I on time?”

She smirks. "I would say probably in surprise. But go on ahead. She had a slow day today and last time I checked only had a visitor about a half hour ago, but he's most likely gone by now."

“Ah good,” I say, rubbing my hands together. “I do love to be a surprise. Ta! Hope you have a great night.”

"They've been better since she got back," she says ruefully. "You as well."
“You can bet we plan to,” I tell her with a wink and head in the direction of Iva’s office.

I make my way quietly through the halls until I reach her office, and carefully open the door so’s I’m not making a sound.

"No need to be quiet," a male voice says dryly, in a similar accent to Iva's. "She's changing. Apparently decided to do it a couple minutes ago and I think I know why."

“Well, well, well,” I say with a short chuckle. “Here I was hopin’ to do the surprising and I end up with the surprise. George Weasley, maker of mischief and many other unmentionable things. How d’you do?”

The wizard moves away from the wall, turns to face me and I can tell that Iva and he’re related. "I am doing just fine, George Weasley. I'm Vanka's older brother, Niclos. No worries, I won't be staying too long."

“Ah, so I have you to thank for the update?” I ask.

He nods. "I figured it wouldn't be too rash to send it, since all of Russia and Japan knew what happened."

I nod. “Iva and I do keep our secrets and lives to ourselves, but it was nice to get the heads up all the same, rather’n hear it from some unfriendly source. But you lot got the bloke what did it, eh?”

If I'm not mistaken, his eyes which look like Iva's, darken, and he smirks. "Oh yes," he says softly. "We did indeed."

“Excellent,” I say, matching his smirk and nodding in approval. “Won’t ask who, as it’s none o’ my business. I’ll just say I’m glad he’s where he won’t go harming anymore lovelies, and that your sister’s fine.”

"I like to think so," I hear Iva say as she comes out, in a blue dress. She gives me a smile then a glare to her older brother. "And you're still here?"

"Yes," he says plainly.

"You're being a pain."

"It's my job. I am your brother."

"And a pain. Go on Niclos. Bug your children."

"Ah sister dear, how I missed being the only child. You and Ivan messed up my situation quite nicely."

"Oh, I'm so sorry for you, Niclos. Honestly. It must have been torture."

"It has," he drawls and Iva tosses his cloak at him, which he catches while chuckling. "And I shall take that as my cue to go. I'll see you later Vanka."

"I'm looking forward to it," she deadpans as her brother gives me a nod goodbye, and leaves the office, shutting the door behind him.

I can’t help chuckling as I step up to her. “Evening, Iva,” I greet her, kissin’ her on the cheek, lingeringly. “If I needed any proof he was your brother, the banter was enough. How are you?”

"What you witnessed was mild." She grins and gives me a lingering, but brief kiss. "And I am doing quite well. You look like you're doing well yourself."

“Well, look at who I had to look forward to,” I step back, spreading my hands to indicate her. “How could I not be doin’ well?”

"Oh well that certainly helps my ego," she says, laughing. "And thankfully I am truly done for the night, so no distractions."

“None unwanted, ya mean,” I add with a wink, holding my arm for her. “Don’t remember if we had one of us planning tonight or not.”

"Well first, I was thinking dinner. Absolutely starving. Only food I had today was at lunch and that was hours ago. And then any place but mine, as unfortunately Niclos is staying with me until Durmstrang's term starts again, as he is apparently helping a former student of his out."

“In that case,” I say as we walk out of her office, “after dinner, we could adjourn to the Maison’s secret hideaway, or maybe find some posh digs for the night. Your pick.”

"Ahh, I'm thinking that hideaway... quite enjoyable last time," she muses. Iva stops by the now empty receptionist desk and takes something from behind it, and I catch site of Muggle money. "I asked her to leave some," she explains. "I noticed a new Italian place that opened up near here. Carly gave me a lesson on Muggle money earlier, so I'm able to figure out most of it."

“Italian!” I chirp approvingly. “All them foods full o’ carbohydrates, good iffin you’re plannin’ on exerting a lot of energy,” I say with a wink.

"I plan to," she gives me a sly smile, as we leave the building. She activates the protections on it, and then turns back to me. "Always did enjoy pasta," Iva adds.

I slither one o’ my arms around her and pull her close. “Is that a fact? I look forward to enjoying you enjoying your pasta. Though if you end up snackin’ on a cannelloni or a manicotti, don’t know as I’d be able to keep my hands to myself.”

"Well, your willpower will have to be put to the test then," Iva chuckles as we pause at one point and then cross. "That'll be interesting to see..."

“Ooh-ho-ho…” I half laugh, half weep. “You’re so cruel. A pity we’re not goin’ out for dim sum.”

Owls and stuff

2009-07-25T08:22:53Z

Iva and Aley owled yesterday to let me know they’re both comin’ back. Was a right relief, it was. Not that I was worried much, more I missed ‘em. I grab down the schedules for the Maison and WWW and bring the two owls closer to reread ‘em before I construct replies.

George-

I know my last owl was a while back. It took a while for everything to be resolved here. But Aleksey and I will be back on the twelfth. I most likely will have a lot to catch up on, business wise there, so even after my return, things will be busy. Once things are calmed down (and it probably won't take long), if you aren't against it, a dinner around the twentieth?

I hope you're doing well, Lubovnik.

Enclosed is another note, from Aleksey.

Iva

George!

Sorry about not being there to help you out. I miss the Maison, and even though Mom would have let me come back with Piska, I thought it would be better to stay with her.

Hope Reggie is doing good, and tell Trudes I said hi. Mom says when we come back, I can help you out again, so you'll be able to see me soon if you want.

Bye!

Aley

PS: By the way, I tried out a couple of new dishes.. Kassa didn't like them, but my Uncles did!

I have to let out a laugh at Aley’s owl. Ta think the shy little bloke what hardly said a few words when I first met ‘im would be grossin’ his relatives out with a prideful grin on ‘is face.

I check my schedule and nod, then pick up my Quill.

Krasivaya,

Absolutely spiffing to hear from you again! Soz it took so long for everything ta get done over there. I know how business and rot can be. All businesses have got unpleasantness, even our line o’ laughs. Problems everywhere ya turn and whatnot. Sickness, scandal, scalawags. Only one thing to be done, unwind in the proper way. Dinner it is, the twentieth it is, and you better be prepared to adjust to the feelin’ of no more knots in that there neck and shoulders o’ yours, Krasivaya.

Till then, my Lovely,

Sendin’ much more’n kisses
-George

I end it with a flourish and bring a fresh parchment to me, rereading Aley’s owl again. One thing I’ll say about Aley; he sure is dedicated to his mum. I remember back, what was it, a month ago? Hearin’ about the haps in Russia in them letters I got.

June 4th Owl

George-

Aleksey and I won't be returning when we thought we would. An--incident happened here, and I have to stay until it is resolved. Aleksey added his own note.

George;

Mom doesn't want me to say much in case Prophet Gossipers get my owl. They've been bothering her more than usual. Just saying sorry. Mom needs me.

Aley

Those emails alone had made me curious enough, but I do respect Iva’s privacy and know she can take care of herself. Still, it was nothing more in my mind than a gossip or drama thing until I got the next letter.

June 10th Owl

Mr Weasley-

My sister apparently likes to underplay things. Considering I know the nature of the involvement between you two, I thought it be best you know.

A translated Moscow Daily Prophet article attached to this note should help matters. My sister most likely will hex me well and good when she finds out I sent it... I'll live. Considering I taught her most of them.

Professor Niclos Poliakoff

The attached article is about Iva being stabbed and hospitalized due to some potion on the knife. Didn’t go into too much details besides the drama of Iva’s life and past involvements and loads of stuff rags like the Prophet love to include in them sorta things. But even though I figure Iva wouldn’t have told me if it was really serious, I figure Aley would have, so I knew it must’ve been under control. So I sent my thanks to her brother with a promise to keep mum and act as if nothin’ was wrong, while keeping her in my best thoughts.

It was a bit later before I got another owl from Konstantin. It was almost July.

George-

Sorry it took me so long to write this. I know you got the article. Niclos was pretty up-front, said I was being idiotic for being vague. Only a brother could be like that I suppose.

The investigation is over. They found who was behind it. I have to stay a bit more longer though.

Hope everything is less dramatic there, than it is here. And hope you're doing well. Aleksey says hi to you, Reggie, and Trudes.

Iva (and that would be last one)

I wrote back, telling her that yeah, I got the article, and while I was worried to year about it all, knew that Aley and her brothers’d take good care of ‘er, as much as she’d let them. I told Aley it sounded like he was doin a great job bein there for his mum and that Reggie was savin’ up loads of purrs for when he got back and there was more gossip to share about Trudes a’waitin’ him.

I hear a hoot, and see that Konstantin is waiting for the reply I wrote to Iva's latest letter. He's giving me a look that makes me wonder about those owls.

“Hold on a mo, Konnie,” I tell ‘im. “Go ruffle up with X while I get my noggin to present to write to Aley.”

Konstantin doesn’t look like he’s holdin’ out much hope for that, but he hops off…away from X. Oi, my owl gets no respect.

Hey Aley!

Glad to hear you’re grossin’ out the fam and carryin’ the joy of queas-ine to other lands. No worries about leavin’ us short staffed. I had to hire somebody for fall for the lafeteria, so I been runnin’ a new bloke just graduated Hogwarts through the basics. I expect you can show him the more advanced stuffs when ya get back and make sure he’s trained like a real queas-in-art when you head off to your school for the year.

Listen, you done good stickin with your mum. Family always comes first, and I know you both mean the world to each other. Glad you were there lookin’ after her.

Trudes and Reg are both lookin’ forward to seein you back, and you can bet I am too! See ya soon.

Pranks muchly,
George

“Alright, Russian feather-duster,” I say, hailin’ the bird over. “Got your replies.”

I get what sounds like me an annoyed hoot, but he comes flying back over, and lands on my desk, holding his leg out.

“Ta,” I say, tying both owls to his legs. “You take care, right? Have a safe flight.”

Another hoot, this one not sounding annoyed, but I get nearly cuffed by a wing as he flies off. Probably didn't like the feather duster bit.

Diggin for Details

2009-06-26T06:02:29Z

I been lookin’ for an excuse to go down, see Pip, chat ‘er up. I noticed she came inta work lookin’ a bit…more…pippy few weeks ago. Been meanin’ to ask her about it, but never have quite got the chance. Fred and I been inventin’ up a storm for the coming summer.

Well, now I got an excuse. Our newest show of genius is tested and ready for production, so I take it down to Pip’s mad laboratory.

I push the door open, and there’s our Pip, hair pulled back, stirring a madly bubbling cauldron an’ hummin’ to herself.

“Oh hey boss… whichever you are.” She says, looking up and smiling, “What’s shaking?”

“Our newest bit o’ genius,” I tell her, ploppin’ down the recipe.

She makes a face, “Seriously? I just got the hang of the last one. Can’t you guys be a little less creative and cut me some slack?”

“Nah. Our creativity puts galleons in your pockets,” I tell her. “Besides, where would the world be without more, and more, and MORE of our fabulous gags?!”

“Um, well I would be a lot less busy.” Pip says, adding a dash of doxie droppings to the cauldron and stirring the other direction, “Not that I’m complaining, mind.”

“Yeah you are,” I snigger. “Nah, I know what you’d rather be doing.”

Her cheeks flush pink, but she doesn’t look up, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, boss. Unless you mean maybe getting off work early sometimes.”

“Or gettin’ days off work…indulgin in some extra curricular activities. Say,” I add, “you been lookin’ mighty cheery lately.”

The blushin gets a bit more intense, but she only says, “Yeah? Well… reckon it’s the nice weather. I always liked the sunshine.”

I grab me up a chair and pull it up. “Reckon?” I ask, with a smirk. “Startin’ ta sound like Ron.”

She smiles a bit, “Yeah, maybe. Nothing wrong with that, though.” She sorta looks away, funny lil smile on her face and sighs.

“So…how ya doin, eh?” I ask, leaning back in the chair.

“I’m wonderful.” She says, still lookin’ down into the cauldron and smilin’, “How’s things for you, boss?”

“Doin’ good, doin’ good,” I say. “And uh…how’s things with Ronnard?”

“Doing good.” She parrots with a mischievous grin, “I can’t complain.”

Hmm, she’s not gonna make this easy, eh? “You, uh…satisfied?”

She glances up at me, her eyes wide and innocent, “With what, boss? With work? Yeah, of course, although the salary leaves something to be desired.”

“Well, ya seemed quite itchy for a while there,” I say. “Wanted ta know if ya got some relief.”

“You make it sound like I had the chicken pox.” She snorts, turning back to the cauldron with a shake of her head.

“Oh, not quite chicken pox, but ya did seem kinda agitated.”

“Did I?” Pip says airily, going back to stirring the cauldron, “I didn’t really notice.”

“Ooooooh, I think you noticed,” I say. “And if I remember right, it was somethin’ you were hopin’ a certain little brother o’ ours could help ya out with.”

“Ron helps me with lots of things.” She says, but I can see the corners of her mouth sorta twitchin’ with a smile, “he was teaching me how to fly a couple weekends ago.”

“Hmm, I bet he was,” I say. “Did he let ya get on his broom?”

Her head snaps up, and her cheeks turn red, “What?! Oh… uh, well yeah, I don’t have one of my own.” She stammers.

I can’t help smirkin’ at that. Well, well, well, looks like Ickle Ronnikins is a man now! “I hope he remembered to put on them, er, hover charms!”

Her face is beet red now, and she quickly looks back down at the cauldron, “Uh, yeah. It was fun. Flying, I mean.”

“Mm-hmm, yeah? Do go on,” I urge.

"Not much to tell," she shrugs, adding the occamy saliva and stirring again, "We went flying. It was fun. End of story." she looks up at me, "Got it?"

"Aww, Pip," I pout. "I don't get nothin' more? Come on, just wanted to check up on the stat of the ship ol' Freddie and me launched. Wanna see how she's sailin. That's all. Marauder's Pledge, won't go nowheres past me and Fred."

She rolls her eyes, "Yeah, its you and Fred I have to worry about, boss. C'mon, like you could resist teasing the little bro? I think not. So I will be keeping mum."

"Guess we'll just have to keep teasin' him for bein' a blushin' untouched," I shrug. "Nah, come on. Much as we love teasin' the kid, we wouldn't tease him 'bout his first time! 'Less it was with somebody we didn't like," I add. "But you, Pip, ya have our blessin, that's for sure."

She smiles, skipping over and givin me a big hug, "Aww, thanks boss. That's really sweet." she pauses and then grins at me, "But no details."

I snap my fingers. "Aww nuts. Well, then I'll just have to let our imaginations run wild," I smirk. "And you know what sorta twisted imaginations we have."

She grins and rolls her eyes, "Yeah, I know all about it. You guys think what you want, huh? I know you, and I know it'll drive you crazy you don't know what really happened."

"Very well," I say with an overexagerated sigh. "But just for the record, you lot did, eh?"

"I neither confirm, nor deny the accusation." Pip says, all prim.

"I'll take that as a yes," I say, just as primly. Then I laugh and chuff 'er on the shoulder. "Pip! Way to go! And you too, Ronnard."

"I didn't say anything!" she protests, "Honestly, boss, putting words in my mouth?"

"Hmph! Alls I'm tryin' to do is show my approval and support, and here I am, gettin' accused."

She smiles, hugging me again, "I'm not accusing- just... you know, its kinda private stuff."

"Well yeah, we know that," I say, huggin' her back. "But sorta like matchin' up a customer with a prank. Sure, it's their private business what they do with it, but ya just gotta know how satisfied with somethin' you helped along with. Besides that, he's our little brother. Much as we tease the kneazles outta him, we wanna know he's well and satisfied, and shaggin' the right girl. Didn't want the bloke to die an ickle Untouched."

She smiles, and tilts her head back so she look up into my face, "You're sweet, boss. Still no details, but I promise to do everything in my power to keep Ron happy. Okay?"

"Well...I s'pose that's an acceptable alternative to gettin' details." I ruffle her hair.

"Glad you approve." she smiles, swatting my hand away and attempting to fix her already messy hair, "So, how bout your love life, boss?"

"You mean lover life," I correct. "Splendid, actually! Haven't heard from Iva since her trip to Russia, but Aley treated us both to an absolutely disgustingly fantastic dinner the other week!"

"That's sweet, boss." she smiles, turning back to the potion, "I'm glad you're happy. I mean that y'know."

I grin and tap the recipe. "Well, now I've delivered what I needed, I'll be headin' back out there to my adoring public."

"Ok." Pip grins, then her smiles slips a bit and she says, "Actually... um, I guess I should talk to Fred too, but since you're here... can I talk to you about the schedule?"

"Sure thing," I answer. "What's on your mind for it?"

"Well, um..." Pip looks a mite unsure of herself, "I was wondering if maybe, possibly, I could... reduce my hours some? And its not because of Ron." she says in a rush, "It's just... well, I'm in a band now, and..." she sighs, "Sorry, that sounds lame. I just feel like some extra time off would be helpful. If you don't want to, it's ok, I just.."

"A band, eh? Hmm, a regular Pip Rocker, are ya? Well, that as it is, and with the summer hols comin, Fred and me'll have to hire a second potions person. Can't afford to cut hours, we need to expand, so think we're gonna look into a part time and switch you to part time, too. That suit ya?"

She sighs a bit, and smiles, "Thanks, boss, you have no idea how much that eases my mind. Thanks soooo much!! Hey, you and Fred should come to our next show!" she beams, "We're pretty rockin' if I do say so myself!"

"When is it?" I ask. "Have to see what's on the sched."

"Dunno." she shrugs, "I don't think we've booked it yet. But we usually play at this pub on Fridays, if you're ever without your Russina hottie and are bored."

"Oh, ok." she says, kinda drooping a bit, but still keeping her Pip smile, "Maybe we can get one during the week. Iva could come to. I mean, if she likes that sort of thing."

"Or, ya never know, could need the use of a kick-arse band for some bash at the Maison," I say with a wink. "Can you lot play Monster Mash? She Blinded Me With Science? Purple People Eater?"

She grins at that, "I'm sure we could learn."

Surprise visits

2009-05-22T05:22:41Z

I'm creatin' up the paperwork for a new raw materials distributor today. The clone's goin' over a few things at the Maison. Paperwork on both counts. Oi, I hate me some paperwork. One o' the drawbacks to business.

The door opens, and there's a knock on it.

"Oh, I know that look... that's the frustrated with work look," a teasing female voice says.

I lean back in my chair and smirk at my lovely Russian Lovely. “How couldja tell?”

"Ohhh, because I've worn that look many times myself, plus I've seen it on my business partner. So this is the back office? Trudes said it in such a dramatic whisper I was thinking I was taking a chance coming back here."

“Of course you are,” I say, spinnin’ around in my chair. “Mm-hmm, you are definitely a proper salve for the work-weary eye, Lovely.”

She grins. "Why thank you for the compliment," she comes further in, leaning against the desk and stops my chair, kissing me briefly.

"Aleksey and I decided to drop by after we finished riding at the stables in Nottingham," she says. "He wanted to see if you had anything new, so he's currently pulling Trudes through the store. So, what's giving you the frustrated work look?"

“Just paperwork,” I tell ‘er, running one hand up her arm. “Hate paperwork. I rather the gettin’ my hands dirty, blowin’ things up, creatin’ new stuff.”

I feel the chair pull forward a bit, as she had hook a foot around it. It stops as it gets closer to her, not leaving much distance now. "Hmm, I have to agree with that, Lubovnick. You seem the getting dirty type..."

“And you do have your own way with explosions, Krasivaya,” I tell her, puttin’ my other hand on her waist.

"Well I do try," she drawls, moving slightly, to sit directly in front of me, and I don't have to move my hands. "What's life without setting one off? And would you like a temporary distraction from the boring paperwork?"

“I always welcome distractions,” I answer, leanin’ a little toward her. “Specially if they mean you.”

"Always a talent of mine, good distractions," she murmurs before she closes the small distance between us, placing a hand on my shoulder, and kissing me.

We kiss for a good long bit, until she pulls away just the slightest bit for us to get a breath. “And you are soooooo good at it,” I observe and lick her bottom lip.

She chuckles, kissing me again as her fingers moving up to rest around the back of my neck. "Feel like dinner later tonight at my place? Aleksey wants to make you his guinea pig for some of his...creative dishes."

“An evening with a lovely Lovely, and her genius of an offspring to test disgustin’ lookin’ food? Sounds like my kinda evening. You got yourself a ginger for the evening.”

"Good. I also stopped by to let you know, you will be without your helper this month again as usual, on the 26th. Only this time we're both going to Moscow. Not sure how long I'll be there, but Aleksey will be there until the second of June, instead of the usual four days, so I hope you won't be too short handed at the Maison."

“Nah, don’t worry yourself over it,” I tell ‘er. “And tell Aley I’ll only allow it if he makes some mischief on his trip.”

"He's already had that blessing since the first trip," she says with a smirk. Then she stops possible conversation by kissing me again, her other hand now resting on my leg.

I kiss her back, suckin’ a little at her lip and running the tip of my tongue over hers. My hand on ‘er arm slips under her sleeve and finds the crease where arm meets back.

I slide my hand on her waist to her back, and pull her from the desk onto my lap, without breaking the kiss.

"Hmm, much more comfortable," she murmurs between kisses.

“Mm-hmm,” I agree, feeling the fit of our fronts gettin’ all warm and cozy. Ah, but she does feel and taste fantastic, a welcome turn to the previously dreary afternoon. My hands slip under her blouse in their respective places and nuzzle a little closer in our embrace.

I raise up my knee and rub the top o’ my thigh side to side on her bum and she murmurs in enjoyment the same moment I hear a creakin’ sound and a voice I never really fancied wantin’ to hear while in this sorta situation.

“Fred, George, whichever, Luna wanted somebody to bri…oh! Er…oh my…G…GEORGE!”

Vacation...at a price

2009-04-07T07:29:42Z

Mmm, what a weekend. Iva surely knows how to make a bloke happy, though do wish I coulda touched her more often. Ah well, next time, we’ll pamper each other, so we get equal give and take.

In any case, I drag my pile-o-mush self into the Wheezes, to the catcalls o’ Trudes (I’ll get my chance, just you wait, now she’s got a girl), and head to the backroom to check on stocks for ingredients.

"Fred or George?" a voice asks from the office, the door is open and one of the other twins is standing in the doorway.

“You got one of us,” I say, making my way toward ‘er. “What can I do for you, look-alike number two?”

"I had a question to ask of you.”

“I love questions,” I tell ‘er. “Shall we have a sit-down, then?”

"Alright," she answers. "And there is some fresh coffee."

“Mmm, haven’t had regular coffee in a while. This that Indian coffee you were talkin’ about?”

The twin nods. "Yeah. I like it better than regular coffee."

I chuckle at that. “Lookin’ forward to tryin’ some o’ this Indian coffee o’ yours.”

"Well, feel free to help yourself."

“Ta.” I walk over to the coffee pot and pour the oddly-liquid stuff into a mug. Bit surprised when it sloshes around all liquid-like. “So,” I say, settling into a chair. “What does our Paddy wanna ask?”

"How do you know I'm not Parvati?" she counters.

“Because you’re the dancer,” I explain. “Walk more on your toes. When ya sit down, you sorta float down.”

She smiles at this. "Well, you did catch me. There were a few things I wanted to ask. One is about time off and the other, about a change in the schedule." Now she looks nervous.

“Let’s do change o’ schedule first,” I say, reachin’ for a sheet on the wall with the weekly line-up.

"I was wondering if I could change some things." She sighs. "I don't have days off. And, I'm in need of one. I have dance on my days off and...I'm worn out," she admits. "So, I was thinking, if I came in during the mornings on Tuesday and Thursday, that would equal a days worth of work, right? Then maybe I could have a full day off."

“Sure,” I say, a little surprised to hear she’s wearin’ herself out and only now said something.

“You sure just one day’ll do? What day were ya thinkin’ of takin’ off?”

"For the job you said two days off," she reminds me. "And what days could you spare me?"

“Well, true, we said two days off, but there’s a reason for weekends, ya know. Rest up so ya don’t burn out. Best days to have off would be Monday or Wednesday.”

"I will take either of those," she answers, looking relieved.

I lean back in the chair and tap the lip o’ the mug. “Pad, what time does your dance thing happen on Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

"I have to be there a little before my classes. Usually I have to be there before five. About four thirty or so."

“Here’s my idea,” I say, takin’ a sip o’ the coffee. Pretty good, as far as liquids go “You come in before the place opens. Work ‘bout seven hours. That should give you time for a good siesta ‘for your classes, so you’re not worn out for ‘em. Then you can take Monday and Wednesday, have a day off with your own clone.”

She looks surprised at this. "Really? Are you sure?

“Sure I’m sure,” I assure ‘er. “You need proper time to recharge. Can’t be accused o’ workin’ our staff to exhaustion. Besides,” I add. “A tired person makes mistakes. Ya get the best work done when you’re well rested. So you agreeable to…maybe a seven to two, with a fifteen minutes for lunch, your Tuesdays and Thursdays?”

"If I stayed until three could I have an hour for lunch?" she ventures.

I nod. “Surely. So that agreeable for your new hours?”

She nods. "Yes. Thank you so much."

I wink at ‘er. “No prob. We all get what we want this way, eh? Now, what was the other thing ya wanted to ask us about?”

"I wanted to ask for some time off," she answers.

“Sure. You know you get two weeks paid vaca per year, right?” I say. “And Parv used one of hers in January. You doin’ a solo vacation, or you two together? A clone-trip?”

"Not a clone trip," she sighs. "I'm going to need a few days off because, if all goes according to plan, I'm going to take a trip across the pond. It's a surprise for a friend. You know him actually. Kevin."

“Oh, Green,” I say happily, nodding my head. “Sure, we know ‘im. Ronnard’s flatmate. And nice choice o’ words there,” I add approvingly. “If all goes according to plan…sneaky! When were ya hopin’ to take your hop across the pond?”

"Hopefully leave Monday and come back Saturday. I can come in the following Monday and Wednesday to help make up for it," she adds.

“What dates?”

"The thirteenth to the eighteenth."

My eyebrows shoot up and I take a swig o’ coffee. “That’s a bit short notice.”

"I know," she looks down. "That was why, if I can't, I might need a day or two off, to make sure he gets there alright. I plan on using a portkey," she explains.

I rub my chin. “Well, not sayin’ it’s impossible. Just have to make sure either Fredgie or me’re free to work on the books. Do a bit o’ scheduling musical chairs. Shouldn’t be too difficult, it’ll just be a bit of a crunch.” I take another swig, then finish off the mug. “When’s the latest you’d need to know by?”

"The sooner the better," she answers. "I haven't gotten the portkey yet."

“Mmm, yeah, and those aren’t like goin’ down an aisle at a Sparr mart and pickin’ one up. Right, let me go talk to the clone. See what we can do. I’ll letcha know by this afternoon, how’s that sound?”

"That sounds great. And thank you. I really appreciate it. This is going to mean a lot to him. It's his brother's birthday. They might not be twins, but you know how close brother can be."

“No problem,” I assure ‘er. “We know how close non-clones can be.” I just think about Ronnard and the Dox. May not be as close as the clone and me, but we know they’d beat up anybody what messed with the other. “Well, better get goin’ if I’m gonna try to rearrange the schedule. See ya this afternoon.”

"Alright. And thank you again," she smiles.

“But in return,” I add with a smirk. “You gotta prank somebody today. Don’t matter who, don’t matter how well, just a prank.” I wink and head out the door.

Dr. Frankenstoned

2009-04-03T07:36:28Z

After the party, Fredgie and I went home (Fred looked especially star-struck and one guess why, when he disappeared with his snuggle later on in the party) and repaired to our rooms, not bothering to dis-Bmovieize ourselves, so my head was hovering about a foot over the pillow from all that puffy hair I had goin' on. I was high on spirits and not thinkin' anything could damper the mood. I'd just celebrated the twenty-third year of my clone and me bein' together, after all. What could be better?

But somewhere durin' the night, my dreams went back a year, and when I woke up, my skin was stickin' to the sheets from all the sweat. My pillow was also damp as anything, but it wasn't for the same reason.

My eyes fly open, the dark room only disturbed by the spot here and there of glow in the dark whathaveyous, and the loud rumble in my right ear. Reggie's gone to sleep on my shoulder, like always, her paw curled around my newborn baby ear. Its birthday's comin' up soon, too.

My throat feels hoarse, and I put my hand to it, tryin' not to disturb my snoozin' princess. My heart's pounding. My breathing's fast. I squeeze my eyes shut and clear my throat. Musta been makin' a ruckus. Just hope Fred didn't hear.

To think that this year mighta been the first birthday I'd celebrated alone...to think I'd have to find something else to celebrate, 'cause our birthday's always been the same thing to me. The day we became clones. And it almost became the day we stopped being clones. And it woulda been all my fault.

I should've gotten over this by now. I shoulda been content with learning my lesson and moving on, but...when the image of that shot o' light hurtlin' straight for my own other half...straight from my chest, the spell I aimed...

The rumblin' in my ear changes to a sorta lickin' purrin' sound, and a feel Reginald's scratchy tongue start to work over my cheek.

"Hungry for a little salt?" I ask 'er, pettin' her head and wipin' my other cheek.

He tongue goes up the side o' my face, scratches my eyebrow, then comes to my ear, which she gives one gentle bite and then rubs 'er head against.

"Come on, Princess," I say, my voice a little raspy. "Lets get ourselvies down to the lab, put this coat to some use. We'll get some more sleep later."

I tuck my kneazle under my arm and slip outta my room, pausin' at the top of the landing to make sure my clone's asleep and undisturbed. Sounds all systems go. I tiptoe down and grab a brownie from the pan on the table along the way, yawning.

It's a project I been workin' on for over a half a year. Something I been doin' alone, mostly 'cause I work on it at night when I can't sleep 'cause o' that stupid dream. Don't wanna let on that I still have troubles from time to time, Fred would be upset. He's upset by enough from me and don't wanna add more to it, so I keep mum. And should this project work, there won't be no reason to worry him anymore. Well, leastwise not with this.

As the half-year's gone by, it's become less and less a project for my own purposes. When Dox tol' me 'bout that attack and what mighta done, I figured she might need it. And when the Scar mentioned something 'bout sleep aides and I told 'im 'bout the ribbons, I figured he might too. With all both of 'em have been through, with their battles and the things they seen, I can see how they'd need something to help aleviate the fear.

At first, I wasn't quite sure what exactly I was gonna make, but as I researched and read up and remembered lessons and whatnot, it came to my mind that whatever I made would have to be something pretty damned powerful, something more than a spell or a charm, and more than some potion you drink. When I always felt best was when the clone'd give me a great big clone-crushing hug, 'cause it meant he was there. So if I could make something what felt like a hug, then it could help.

But not only a hug. Fear...boggarts and dementors come to mind. Laughs. Chocolates. Happy thoughts. Think of a wonderful thing, any happy little thing...pixie dust.

I let out a giggle. Find it right funny, stuffed away in my little hidden compartment behind the floo, with Reggie on my lap. Yeah, pixie dust'd help. I lick a few brownie crumbs off my fingers and lean my head back against the bookshelves. Yeah, pixie dust. A hug, some chocolate...damn, suddenly I'm a bit peckish, even after this brownie. Yeah, chocolate with pixie dust. But how would a person make something into it. I mean, it's gotta be something beyond somethin you'd eat.

Mmm...cheese doodles. Nope, they wouldn't help, but I could go for some right now. What'd be like a hug? Remember when Fred was off with a past snuggle of his, couldn't sleep so I stol' 'is blanket and wrapped up in it. Smelled like 'im, and I pretended it was a hug. Wouldn't tell nobody 'bout it. He knew, o' course. Yeah, maybe a blanket would do. Blankets're like hugs for beds. Yeah, hugs for the single bloke.

"We got blanket hugs," I tell Reggie, and sorta laugh at my voice. Sounds a bit funny. Reggie looks up at me, sniffs my fingers, and her little kitty mouth goes ajar like she's just smelled something funny. Makes 'er purrs sound funny, too. I giggle at that. "Choose...doodles. Nah, only jokin'. What was before them doodles? Yeah, think it was pixies. All ya need is faith and trust and a little bit o' pixie dust. Where ya figure we can find pixie dust? Mmm, think I'm gonna go to bed."

Guess the good laugh did it. Dunno quite, but damned if I don't feel right fine and comfortable now. I crawl back through the fireplace and trudge up the stairs, feelin' my stomach sorta tryin' to pull me back downstairs, maybe for some cereal. Or another brownie. Oh yeah, Lee gave 'em. Huh, can guess what that means. Well, so I'm stoned. Least I can get back to sleep now.</lj>

Skive Day request

2009-03-15T05:11:22Z

Ya know, quite like that Paddy takes a long lunch to listen to storytime. For a while, the clone and I thought she was way too serious, but this storytime business is the next step to skivin’ off. At WWW, not only do we have sick leave and paid vaca, but we also got five skive days a year. Yeah, I know, sorta defeats the purpose of skivin’ off when ya got permission, but it was better’n “mental health” day. ‘Course we coulda just called ‘em “mental days” and have done with it, but the clone and I liked the sound o’ “Skive Days” better.

So while she’s off at ‘er storytime, I’m doin’ a little officework in the office, Coffee skitterin’ around the desk makin’ rings and whatnot. Little rascal. I finish fillin’ out the parchmentwork for our latest invention to get patented, then slip it into a folder so’s Fredgie can check it over. I know he trusts me to get it all done right, as do I him, but we’re clones. Excuses for interaction, dontcha know.

"Hello," I hear Paddy say as she enters the office. "I hope I'm not late."

“Nope,” I say, pushin’ back from the desk. “Was just finishin up some parchmentwork. How was storytime?”

"It went well, though the time after was the most interesting." She shifts, lookin’ a bit nervous. "And I actually wanted to talk to you and your twin about that. Is there anyway I could take off tomorrow or Monday?"

“Need a Skive Day?” I ask. “Or should I pry and askin’ what the interestin’ part was?”

"A Skive day?" she asks. "And well...he's a muggle and I just found out he knows about the magical world."

He, eh? Some bloke she fancies, mayhap? “This the storytellin’ bloke? That a fact?”

She nods. "And I wanted to show him Diagon Alley and a bit more, perhaps. But, as you know I don't ever have a full day off. And his days off are Sunday and Monday. I can make up for it and come in on Tuesday and Thursday morning," she quickly offers.

“Shoo, shoo, take a skive day,” I say, wavin’ that off. “Only on one condition, though.”

"What's that?" she asks, sounding a bit hesitant.

“You bring ‘im by the shop,” I instruct.

"You're going to prank him, aren't you?"

“What, prank a muggle?” I ask. “Only prankin’ of muggles we do is muggle-pranks. Anyway, we wanna meet Mr. Storytime.”

"Well, Mr. Storytime's name is Kevin," she smiles.

“Hmm, Kevin.” There seems to be a lot o’ that name comin’ around. “What day ya lookin’ to have off?”

"Tomorrow or Monday, whichever one," she answers

“How’s about Monday?” I suggest. “Don’t got the Hogwarts order to do, and too many people try to be respectable on Mondays, so best day to skive.”

"Alright. And thank you," she grins, looking excited.

“You betcha!” I say, grinnin’ back. “Enjoy your skive day, and lookin’ forward to meetin’ Mr. Storytime.”

She laughs. "I will. And I am sure he will too." Then she looks around the office. "I guess I had better get back to work, if I'm taking a skive day soon."

I get outta the chair and hold it out for ‘er. “Warmed it up, for ya.”

"Thanks." Then her gaze falls on my coffee mug. "I really hope it didn't get into the books or parchment."

I look down at the lovely ring Coffee’s made around the mug. “Nah, don’t think so. Just ruinin’ the wood’s about all. Good thing we keep the antiquities at home.”

She nods. "Probably is, yeah."

What do you get a lovely mum?

2009-03-12T17:19:58Z

She always comes in ‘round three, so I notice. Quiet brown hair, quiet plain face, quiet shy voice, and loud as banshees crush. Thursdays and Fridays, regular as clockwork, she wanders in on ‘er lunchbreak, all alone, cheeks goin’ a tad rosy, and payin’ for a tour of one through the Maison. And Trudes is happy to oblige.

I always see the girl comin’ out of the tour with confetti in ‘er hair. Trudes doesn’t often give the shiny confetti. Usually it’s packin’ peanuts or feathers, if a dunk at all. Yessir, I been observin’ our satirical saleswitch, too, and what sorta pranks she pulls out the play on that quiet little witchling.

I see Trudes lookin’ at the clock now. It’s four after. Witch hasn’t come in yet. Trudes presses a button and somewhere in the Maison I distantly hear a bloke yelp, followed by a muffled slork. He’s just been slimed.

Then a rude sound chimes and Trudes looks up uninterestedly, her face hardly registering the brunette walkin’ quietly in and shuffling her feet as she looks a mo at a few of the wizarding pics of the clone’s and my past exploits. Trudes, leans an elbow on her desk, picks up a quill, flops the extravagant feather around in a seemingly bored manner, not looking at the girl.

Finally, the witch quits beatin’ around the bush and walks up to Trudes’ desk. “A tour for one please,” she says quietly, her face turned resolutely to her coin bag as she fishes out the exact change to hand Trudes. Then she keeps ‘er head down as she counts it all out, then hands it to Trudes. The saleswitch holds out ‘er hand, their fingers knock together for a mo and they look at each other. Girl’s cheeks go all rosy again and she bounces on the balls of ‘er feet as Trudes mumbles somethin’ ‘bout needing to clean up slime ‘fore she sends ‘er up.

Trudes presses a button, her finger slips, she presses it again, finger slips, she punches it in short, frustrated, spastic taps, and finally pins the pesky button with ‘er elbow. Her face is tryin’ it’s hard to turn beet red and is doin’ a damned good job.

“PACKLESBY!” she snaps into the desk. “Slime doesn’t clean itself! Get on it, eh? We got people waiting!”

She removes ‘er elbow, though seems as it’s stuck, so she picks at it with ‘er fingernail, which she doesn’t seem to have hardly any to spare to do it.

“Um…I can…” The witch reaches out, shrinks back, then lunges for the button and claws at it eagerly, makin’ short work of the button’s show of defiance. Then she busies herself puttin’ her coin bag away, her face trying now to match Trudes’.

I smirk and disappear back into the lafeteria.

"I heard Trudes yelling. Do we have to start the count over again? " Aley asks as I come in. He's already putting the Cornish Nasties out and is working on pan of it. He looks over at me. "She made it through a week this time."

“Got flustered,” I smirk. “Ever hear o’ Murphy’s Law?”

"What can go wrong, will go wrong. She owes us both seven sickles now."

“Too true,” I agree. “But the most important rule o’ Murphy’s Law is what can go wrong, will go wrong, and always when ya want it to happen least. And she wanted it least! You remember I told you ‘bout that brunette she fancies?”

Aley nods and plates some more Nasties. "You said she liked someone. Is she still having a hard time talking to her?"

“She actually got a few words in this time, ‘side from ‘be a mo’ or ‘go on in.’ And smooth-talker, she mentioned slime. Ah, bless.”

"Maybe we should cut it from seven to four sickles then? Can you get the macaroni and sneeze out? I have to finish these and it'll end up burning."

“Sure, you got it, Aley.” I open up the pot and look down into the slimy-lookin’ noodle dish. “Looks positively nasty,” I compliment. “You added something extra in?”

He just shakes his head. "Unless confusion can be added ," he says under his breath as he concentrates on the last bits of the Cornish Nasties.

“One of our favourite ingredients,” I say. “Was I scribblin’ again, or you got something on your mind?”

Aley stays quiet for a mo, and I think he's going to end up keeping it to himself (Which he does a lot, I've noticed), but he turns to me. "Just Mother's birthday," he finally admits. "I usually have a gift for her ready by now, but this time I can't figure out what to get her."

“Well, our mum always liked best somethin’ we made ourselves…” then after a second’s thought, add, “Least what the rest o’ the lot made for ‘er. Didn’t much fancy what Fred and I made ‘er. Hey now, I got an idea think she’d absolutely love!”

He gives me a grin. "I should be afraid to ask, but what?"

“Well, why don’t ya make ‘er a great big banquet. You know how much your mum loves ‘er food. Make ‘er all ‘er favs.”

Aley's eyes widen. "Not that many!" He exclaims. "I'd be in the kitchen with Piska all day... and she'd probably threaten to mutiny."

I laugh. “Okay, so then maybe a third of ‘er favs. If ya want, I can help ya come up with a menu should go together well, and wouldn’t have you plannin’ mutiny yourself.”

He nods. "I like that... you won't be too busy though will you? Her birthday is the fifteenth.”

“I figure if you write down all you can remember, we can figure out a good menu over a slow day or two here.”

"I'll ask Mom her favorites tonight.. or have Piska do it, so Mom won't get curious." Aley grins. "Thanks, George."

“No prob, Aley,” I say with a wink. “Glad I could help.”

Refills!

2009-03-05T18:37:06Z

St. Vals gone and past, business has slowed down a smidge. The Valentines Hogsmeade Weekend was a blast, o’ course, and we were full up! Now we’re just plannin’ for the next major event. Our birthday.

It being Thursday, I’d usually be at the Maison, working in the lafeteria, but Fred and I switched, seein’ as my usual helper’s got lessons. So instead I’m working the Wheezes, putting up a new display.

I hear the bell over the door, announce in its usual raucous tone that we have a customer coming in and look over to see our very own Kiggs.

She grins when she sees me, "Fred or George? Or should I not bother asking because you won't tell me anyway?"

“Right you are, m’dear,” I say with a grin. “And judgin’ by the shiny on your finger there, I’d say you’re the future Mrs. Olive Branch.”

She snorts at this, "You knew that already, which ever one you are...unless you're Fred and George forgot to tell you and you're just being hyper observant. Anyway, I was wondering if you're selling your special stock yet or if that's still top secret friends-club membership only?"

“That all depends what sorta special stock you’re talkin’ about,” I answer, batting my eyes. “’Cause any customer here’d know that all our stock is special stock.”

Kiggles raises an eyebrow at me and takes out the silver cigarette case used to house our emergency brooms. "I need a top up before I leave for my next rune seek on Saturday..."

“Ah-hah! She shows the top secret friends-club membership card,” I say and wink at her. “Right this way into the club house, friend.”

She pockets the cigarette case and follows me into the 'club house' with a grin, "Good to know my membership's still valid...went to the gym last week to find out my card was out of date...for a life time membership, want to explain to me how that works? Cheeky money grubbing fit-freaks."

“Oi,” I say, stopping by a shelf and looking back at her. “Gotta turn a profit somehow, eh? Lessee, how many do ya need?”

"Well I still have 2 left...but there's three of us on the team and we wouldn't have got out of the last one alive without them..." she shrugs, starting to lean back then stopping herself, checking what she's about to lean against before deciding whether it's safe or not.

I can’t help frowning at this. A team. She let somebody else use the brooms. Now, granted, they did save lives, but there’s a reason they’re secret. “They don’t know where ya got these, do they?”

"I work with the wizard who helped you make them remember? Don't worry, no secret code violations that you didn't violate yourself in asking for assistance...since when did you ask for assistance with your creations anyway?" she retorts, rolling her eyes at this. "Besides, It's my job to keep them alive...sort of...but I don't want to be the soul survivor having to explain to the Professor why his first born son and star pupil got minced."

I relax a bit at this. “Ah, alright then. Didn’t realize. And ya know, Fredgie and I can’t be brilliant in everything. Have to be some flaws to us, dontcha know. Polly is a proper broom maker and we needed the consultation so’s the broom didn’t go all wobbly when we were tryin’ to save our necks.”

"Fair enough, I'll let you off then," she grins wrapping both arms around my neck in a hug. "Nicolas is good...nice guy too when he lets people see it and isn't hiding it with being an asshole."

“Never been in the position to see either,” I confess. “Only really talkin’ business, and a bloke what acts the asshole in business is really bad. Unless their business is bein’ an asshole, that is.”

"True, I guess...so anyway, top ups. How much?" she asks, looking around the shelves of stock.

“Whatever ya want,” I say with a shrug. “We never put a price on ‘em. Does get a might costly, though. Quality wood and all that.”

I see her grimace at this, "You don't make it easy do you? I was never good at maths and I'm not a retailer..."

“Easy’s no fun,” I scoff. “Besides, the other one usually takes care o’ the pricing. Um…s’pose a couple galleons each.”

Kigs nods at this and takes out her money, handing the case over for me to refill while she counts out the galleons. "Can I ask you something? When you met Zabini, how did you know he wasn't just another Slytherin snake? How did you work out there was more to it..."

“Well…” I pause a mo. “First time, Clone and I were just us. Had fun buggin’ the stuffin’ out of ‘im. But sorta figured when he came round, wantin’ our help with helpin’ Luna-moth’s business. If Luna trusted ‘im, and he made the trip from Portugal or Mali or Kazakhstan, or wherever, to help ‘er out? There’s gotta be more to a bloke than what all them Slythies were painted by us to be.”

She frowns at this, biting her bottom lip, deep in thought, "So Luna already knew him...you had more than just his word...thanks, George."

I salute to ‘er. “Why do you ask, anyway?”

"I ran into Flint a while back...I just...wondered I guess. I mean Ginny making friends with Malfoy, you and Zabini...I mean he tried to knock me off my broom half a dozen times but I think I know why now..."

“Flint, eh?” I tilt my head back and tap my chin. “Haven’t heard from any kooky inventor ravenclaws what have any ties with Flint, so couldn’t rightly say one way or the other.”

"I guess you're right...I mean I know what Oliver would say, he's trouble...I just...I don't know...but I don't want to find out for sure by getting knocked off my broom when he finally remembers he hates me."

“Mmm, yeah. Play it cautious ‘til ya know for sure,” I agree. “House prejudice aside, you two do got that past with the broom bludgeoning.”

"I think that's only because he fancies me..." she says and I almost snort until I see the expression on her face. "Well he never went after Angie or Alicia like that...and he was Slytherin, I was a Gryffindor Mudblood...he couldn't admit it without getting himself beaten half to death by his housemates."

She sighs and starts to pace, "You should have seen it George...he was sorta charming in a creepy way."

“Well, you know how blokes are when they fancy a witch. Dip their hair in the inkpots, flip up their robes, pick on ‘em mercilessly,” I grin, thinking of the stories Pip told me how Trudes used to treat her.

"Great...so my secret admirer tries to kill me every time I go flying..." she mutters sarcastically. "Now just to keep him and Oliver from meeting and getting all macho on me."

“Does sound like a chore to me,” I agree.

She starts to grin and I'd bet the wheezes she's thinking of Oliver, especially when she snaps out of it and starts to blush. "Um, anyway, here's your money..."

I gesture for her to follow me into the office. Lucky today is both the Patils’ day off. “Sit yer seat down there, Kigs, while I get the gubbins.”

She sits down to wait for me as I head to find the store of mini-brooms.

After my secret routine, I pull out the stores of our backup brooms. “When’d you get your last armour?”

"Um...only ever had one lot from you...on my birthday two years ago," she says, watching me curiously.

I jolt up. “Oi! You’re not takin’ the mickey, are you? It’s really been two years?”

"Well...one and three...four months. Two years this November...why?" she asks, frowning slightly.

I roll my eyes at my absentmindedness and reach in for a vest, too. “Thing is, Kigs, you remember when I lost that ear?”

"Yeh, you and the other prat decided to get all tough and try and take down Fenrir with just the two of you when countless numbers of fully trained Auror's have failed..." The look she gives me makes me wince and I realise how lucky we were not to have her and Mum team up on us in the hospital.

“Yeah, that,” I agree and plug on ahead. “Anyhoodles, seems that the vests have an expiration date of a year. Start to wear, ya see, and quicker when seeing heavy use. So,” I toss over her new vest and reach back in for the brooms.

"Thanks," she grins, automatically stripping off to change her vest. "After all I complained about you and Fred and here you are saving my life over and over..."

“Course!” I say, counting out four of the brooms and setting ‘em on the desk while she changes. “We wouldn’t let you get away that easy. You’re stuck with us whether you like it or not.”

"But why me? There were other Gryffindor's sorted that year...why did I get hijacked?" she demands, though I can tell from her tone she doesn't really mind. Her 'complaints' were never serious.

“Because your lovely mug had ‘gullible’ written in nice bold italics,” I tease.

"Rat!" she retorts, throwing her now expired vest at me.

“I think you mean niffler,” I return, catching the vest.

She opens her mouth to argue back, then pauses to think about this. "Considering a niffler's skill at digging out gold...and your almost obsessive interest in tormenting me...was that a compliment?"

“Nah. If you were gold, woulda been a Seeker what caught you, not a Keeper. But nifflers have been known for their mayhem, too. Remember when Lee set them things loose in Umbritches’ office?”

"Like magical racoons," she laughs, absentmindedly rubbing the back of her hand. "Good times...considering what was to come..."

“Yeah. She was something vile, wasn’t she?” I ask. “Was a pity not bein’ around longer to help you lot laugh it off.”

"Yeh...I missed you after you left," she says quietly, scuffing her foot on the floor and looking down. "Then at the end of that year Angie and Alicia left too..."

“Well, the world needed a good laugh,” I say apologetically. “Umbritches was one thing, but Moldy-warts on the rise, he’s only won if you can’t laugh at ‘im.”

"I think you're the only one that could laugh at him," she sighs then smiles, "Still at least with the store open there's no more restricted twinly access now I'm out of school."

“I dunno, Kigs,” I say. “You shoulda seen the sales for You No Poo. I tell ya, it was proper! And…ya know, laugh at ‘im in private counts. I’m not sayin’ laugh at ‘im in ‘is face. The clone and I were determined to make ‘im look ridiculous enough the world took ‘im a little less serious. And can you imagine anything a bad guy likes less than not to be taken serious?”

"I'd expect getting his ass kicked by a teenaged boy," she chuckles dryly. "And it wasn't just Umbridge...school was horrible in my last year without you guys."

“Aww Kigs,” I capture her head with one arm and ruffle her hair with the other. “You woulda been without us anyhow. But you do have a point there. Did you ever get our Final Battle Action Figure set?”

"You actually made-..." she gapes at me in disbelief, "Next you'll start setting up the RPG...thank goodness you haven't become so Muggle-adjusted to descover the internet yet."

“HAH! Pity the bloke what takes me on,” I chuckle.

She sighs and shakes her head at this, "Right so...supplies wise how am I set? I need to get back and start cooking dinner for Oliver for the next couple of nights else he'll go back to living on beans on toast." She pulls a face at this, shuddering slightly.

“No shit on a shingle for ol’ Wood?” I ask and ruffle her hair again. “Right. Supplies. Walk this way, my Kigs. We’ll get you airborne. Four you said you needed?”

"Yeh, that's how many I used before what with Greyback and then the runeseeks," she confirms then gives me a smile, "Thanks for this...y'know, just keeping me alive."

“Well, what would the world be like without our Kippary Chimes?” I ask over my shoulder as I open the drawer and then the special, secret compartment. “One, two, three, four! Here y’are.”

She takes them off me, setting the little case back in her bag safely and hands over a handful of coins, "True, you'd be lost without me."

“Well, maybe not lost,” I say. “Just severely misdirected. There’s a difference.”

She laughs at this, swatting my arm before pulling me into a tight hug, "Alright, well you stay out of trouble, or at least make sure you don't get caught! I'll seeya soon!"

“Kigs, we’d go out of business if we stayed out of trouble,” I remind her, squeezing her back. “And you wouldn’t wanna be responsible for that. Besides,” I say, pulling back and winking at her. “Fredgie and I wouldn’t be alive and free clones if we got caught half the time.”

"True enough...well just take care of yourselves and of each other..." she adds, waving as she heads towards the main shop to leave.

I wave after her and then lean against a nearby shelf as the door closes. Ah Kigs. Always good to see her.

Of vintage flicks and coffee with a mind of its own

2009-02-28T08:29:41Z

I don’t often go out and be social on my own. More often now, ‘course, tryin’ to give the clone his space and sorta try this being a single number ‘stead of a double. S’pose I gotta get used to it if things continue the way I think they will with Astair. We never discuss what’d happen, if she’d move in or he’d move out, but whatever the future…

I take a deep breath and grab up the coffee pot. I need company. Just can’t be a me. So I figure I’ll take Coffee to visit it’s pal. Poor bloke’s probably bein’ a mope, too. Hope a nice little cuppa with Coffee’ll cheer ‘im up.

Coffee sorta glorps to a stop against the side of the pot and I shake it with a sigh. “Come on, eh? Gonna see your mate. Your coffee mate. Heh.”

A little tendril extends out from the glorp and inches tentatively toward the spout. “That’s right, your pal Mr. Nickerson! You liked ‘im! Think he liked you too!”

I watch it liquidify and pour slowly into the vacuum flask. “Aww, don’t be sullen. Sorry I haven’t taken you to see ‘im in a while! Buck up! You gotta cheer ‘im up. He’s been feelin’ lonely.”

I look down into the top. It swirls around a mo and then settles down for the ride. “That’s a beverage,” I say fondly and screw on the lid.

With vacuum flask in hand, I head out the door, down the stairs, and Apparate to South Kensington to Babsy’s townhouse. Then I jog up the stairs and knock on the door.

“Oi! H’llo! Anybody hoooooome? Yoooooooohooooooooo!”

It takes a bit, but the door finally opens and Neddy pokes his shaggy head out, already looking puzzled.

“Oh!” he says, opening the door wider and smiling a little, “Hello George. I’m afraid that Blaise is… away at the moment.”

“Can’t be helped, I s’pose,” I say with a shrug. “Besides, Coffee was gettin’ mopey. So I figured I’d take it out, cheer it up a bit.”

“That’s nice of you,” Neddy smiles and then addresses the flask, “Good afternoon. I hope you’re well.”

We hear a metallic tinging noise from the flask. “Oh! Oi, s’pose I should open it up, you two can chat each other up proper-like. Mind if we pop on in, or we interrupting anything?”

“Well, as I said Blaise isn’t home…” he starts, then cuts himself off, blushing furiously, “That is… uh… yes, please come in. I wasn’t doing anything in particular.”

“Ta,” I say, stepping in. “Much obliged. Now we can release the little devil.” Ned closes the door and I unscrew the cap. Then I tip it to the side. I little glop sneaks up to the edge.

“Hello again,” Ned tells it, “Would you both like to come into the sitting room? I need to turn off the television- I was watching a movie.”

“What movie?” I ask, holding the cup of the flask out and shaking a bit of coffee into it so’s it and Ned can chat up proper.

“Oh,” Ned ducks his head, lookin’ sheepish, “The Maltese Falcon. I’m not a big fan of new movies.”

Well, that just tickles me bubblegum, blushin’ bride, and any other shade o’ pink! “Really now?! Well, you happen to be talkin’ to a true appreciator o’ vintage.”

“Really?” Neddy smiles, motioning me into a large armchair, “It’s nice to finally meet someone else with similar tastes, then. Blaise tolerates it fairly well, but he doesn’t much care for films at all, so…” he breaks off, biting his lip and lookin’ distinctly miserable.

“Aww, what’s up, Buttercup?” I ask ‘im, rufflin’ his hair. “Ya know, I have the same problem with that bloke. He doesn’t know how I can have such wrinkly tastes. But I tell ya, there’s just somethin’ super sultry ‘bout that Mae West, you can’t deny.”

Ned cracks a bit of a smile at that, “Agreed. I’m not even straight and I think she’s gorgeous.” Then he blinks, “Wrinkly tastes?”

“Let’s just say that twice my age is a tad too young for me,” I tell ‘im. “Well, you met my current squeeze, right? Iva?”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. Sorry.” He says, looking sheepish, “You’ll have to excuse me, I’ve not been… quite myself the past week.”

“S’alright,” I say, handing him the cup. “We can’t all be 100% all the time.”

He peers down into the cup, and smiles, “Oh, hello. I’ve been ignoring you dreadfully, haven’t I?” he glances up at me, “You and it won’t be offended if I don’t drink it, will you? I don’t usually fancy coffee… drinking it anyway.” He adds hastily.

“Nah, think that’s why the little cuppa likes ya so much,” I dismiss. “You’re not a barbarian, and you’re not half-bad at makin’ conversation at that.”

“Well, thanks.” He says smiling, “The same to you too. How are things at your shop? I’m sorry I haven’t had time to come by…” he blushes pink, probably rememberin’ all I said bout him comin’ in.

“Busy,” I answer. “Between that and our other business, we’re not bored, that’s for sure.”

“I’m glad. Can I get you anything? Er… coffee?” he says, glancing back at the cup, “Maybe some tea?”

“You askin’ me or Coffee?”

“Either,” he shrugs, smiling, “I have some biscuits too, if you’d like. I made them this morning.”

“Biscuit for each, sure,” I answer. “And a cuppa tea for me, but only if you’re makin’ a pot anyway.”

“I’ll be right back with it then,” he smiles, “If you like, feel free to start the film up again while the tea’s brewing. I was right near the beginning anyway.”

Ned sets the cup on the table and heads off in the direction of the kitchen, leaving me to get comfortable with the flask filled with the rest of our fantabulous coffee. I choose a super-cushy lookin’ seat and flop down in it, snugglin’ extra-snug into the cushion. The coffee in the flask sloshes cheerily and I tip the flask back, lettin’ a bit of it pour into my mouth. Mmm, delish.

Ned’s only gone a few minutes before he emerges from the kitchen bearing a tea tray complete with pot and biscuits stacked high.

“Here you both are.” He smiles, “Please help yourself.”

“Ta,” I say and pour myself a cuppa, then take a biscuit and lower it into the flask’s lid. The coffee hardens, so’s the biscuit’s stuck at a jaunty angle, half-submerged. I grin and pick up a biscuit for myself.

“Um, I hope you and…Coffee won’t think me rude for asking,” Ned says, pouring himself his own cup, “but does it… eat the biscuit? Or what?”

I scratch my chin. “Ya know, not really sure. I never fed it anything before, so guess we’ll see. S’pose it’ll just sorta poke holes in it, or maybe turn liquid and dissolve it.”

“Oh.” Ned seems to consider that, “How interesting. Oh, I meant to ask, how’s your brother? Blaise said you’re a twin, too.”

“Too? Is Babsy hiding something, or are you the multiple?” I ask, raisin’ a curious eyebrow. “And Fredgie’s fine.”

“It’s me.” Ned smiles, “My sister Josie and I are twins. She’s at university in Dublin.”

“Uni, eh?” I ask with a grin. “She roundin’ her ejamacation with muggle know-how, or are you muggle-born?”

“Half blood.” He answers, sipping his tea, “Mother’s non-magical and so is Josie. Only Dad and I have magic. Though I hardly ever use it anyway, so I don’t know if I count.”

I scoff at this. “Sure you count! Must be sorta weird, your twin all that different and such. Wouldn’t quite know what to make of it if Fredgie was a squib. But come to that, wouldn’t make all that much difference anyhow. Magic or no, twins are twins. You two close?”

“Oh yes,” Ned smiles, but then frowns a little, “Well, yes, we’re very close, but Josie… she’s about as complete an opposite from me as you can get. So we don’t agree on much.”

“Ah come on,” I say, leaning back in my chair and picking up another biscuit. “You both like blokes. And you’re both in the UK. And ya love each other. Wouldn’t quite call that complete opposites.”

“No I suppose not.” He agrees, then grins, “And how do you know my sister likes blokes? Maybe being gay runs in the family.”

“Call it twintuition,” I say. “And ‘sides, if she didn’t like blokes, you’d still have something in common on that front. But all differences aside, when it comes to twin, the twin-love’s really the only thing that counts.”

“Of course.” Ned smiles, “She’s a doll, really she is, and I love her to death. I kept pestering her to go to Oxford, but I think she was dying to get as far away from Mama and Dad as possible. Not that there’s anything wrong with my parents, mind, but Josie’s very independent, and Mama… well, Mama likes to be in charge of everything.”

“As mums will be,” I agree. “Mine’s been after me a bit about my dating preferences.”

“Thankfully my parents have no problem with my dating preferences,” He smiles, then looks a bit puzzled, “What’s wrong with dating older women?”

“Well, they’re all around Mum’s age, first off,” I say with a shrug. “And second, I’ll never have kids. Apparently she wants me to breed. I woulda thunk she wouldn’t want the future of impressionable minds in my hands.” I smirk. “But then again, they already sorta are, what with the clone’s and my joke shop. Also spendin’ time with Aley, teachin’ him to make disgusting lookin’ food.”

Neddy grins, “I’m sure you’re good with kids. You seem the type. And I can relate about the breeding bit. Mama is terribly distressed that if she wants grandchildren, Josie has to have them. Loads of my cousins already have kids of their own, so of course, the pressure is on. Never mind that we’re only twenty.”

I snort. “So, adopt! Then you wouldn’t have to worry ‘bout them unsightly stretchmarks or the like.”

Neddy chuckles, “Oh yes, I can see the look on Blaise’s face when I bring that subject up. He’d bolt for China or something.” He gets that depressed look on his face again. Seems he’s missin’ his Babs pretty bad.

“To pick out a kid?” I ask and poke ‘is side. “Soz, guess it’s an American joke. Gay couple with a Chinese kid.”

He lets out a little squeak at the poke, then smiles, “I don’t know if I’d want kids anyway. I’m not much good with them. They sort of frighten me.”

“You get on with me well enough,” I point out, “and I’ve been told by numerous folks I’m just a big five-year-old.”

“You don’t seem that immature to me.” Ned says, shrugging, “It’s not just me not liking kids- they don’t like me either. My cousins’ kids all cry when they see me.”

“The trick with kids,” I tell ‘im, “is not to let ‘em see you’re uncomfortable. It’s like cats. Cats can sense it just like kids. Only with cats, if you’re not comfortable with ‘em, they give you extra attention just to unnerve ya more!”

“I’ve never had a cat,” Neddy tells me, “but we always had kneazles. My dad works with animals, you see.” He grins. “Blaise hates cats, you know. He said you had a kneazle.”

“Reggie,” I supply. “Yeah, she’s a princess, she is. We got ‘er the same day Babs got his snoozer of an owl, fact. Twas the first time we say him since school.”

“Poor Rafi,” Ned murmurs. “He hasn’t been himself since Blaise went away. He’s been awake all the time and he’s not eating well.”

“Woah there!” I gasp. “That owl, awake?! I thought ‘e sleep-flew!”

“So did I,” Neddy agrees. “But he seems to have gotten insomnia. I just don’t understand. Blaise hardly pays him any attention, so I didn’t think he’d miss him that much.”

“Sorta like that white noise. While it’s there, ya just don’t notice, but when ya don’t hear it anymore, can’t sleep.”

“I suppose so.” He smiles. “Shall we put on the movie? It might be nice to have some company, if you’re not too busy.”

“Sure,” I answer, snuggling back against the cushion. “Start ‘er up!”

After-Vals with Iva

2009-02-22T00:19:51Z

January and the hols have been a bit busy, so Iva and I’ve not had much time to get together, save when she drops off and picks up Aley from helpin’ out at the Maison. Seems I see more of Aley than I do of her. We both been busy, and I’ve been spendin’ as much of my spare time with the clone as possible.

St. Val’s day, however, seems like the perfect opportunity to spend some time, though. However, it being the first Hogsmeade weekend of ’01, so the twin and I are on full duty at the Maison. The traffic in our little prank house those Hogsmeade weekends is terrific! Don’t know if it’s just kids wanna see their friends get pranked or they wanna get ideas, but the first weekend was a success, and yesterday ago was no exception. Of course, we made all the pranks and decorations valentines themed. Right down to Locksey’s grumpy dwarf cherubs.

Iva and I agreed to meet up for a date on Sunday, a slow day for both us. With Paddy and Parvy both working Monday, and Trudes mindin’ the shop, Fredgie and I can both afford to have a late Sunday night. I figured he’d be spendin’ some time with Astair that night, too. Everybody’s schedules work out.

After sprucin’ up, then mussin’ up, I grab the present, give Reggie a good scratch behind the ears, and head out of Chez Clone for Iva’s place.

Bon voyage beuverie

2009-02-12T09:54:51Z

Some sleep-flyin’ owl came swoopin’ in earlier today with a message from Babs. I remember that owl. First time we saw the Zamboni since Hogwarts, he was buyin’ the tired ol’ thing. Apparently it’s managed to bore it’s self to sleep.

Anyhow, the note said to meet ‘im tonight 8 o’clock, at the place of my choosing. So seven forty-five finds me in Rusty Grapes with a Phoenix in hand.

Babs comes in a bit later, lookin’ as tense as a crup, and twice as snappy. He smiles a bit when he sees yours truly though, and ambles over to sit down.

“Good evening,” he says, “I thought you might choose this place.”

“Not many places around with a clientele o’ hot older babes.” I quip. “So what’s the occasion?

“Nothing much,” Babs shrugs, signaling to Rolf for a drink. “I’m going out of town, and thought we’d have a bon voyage drink.”

“Ooo, a bon voyage beuverie! Let the drinking commence.”

“Well if you keep coming back, it seems I shall too,” he smiles, taking a gulp of his drink.

“Ya hear that, Rolf?” I call over to the harried tender. “Gonna have to learn this ‘ere bloke’s name. He’s gonna be a regular.”

“He’s not going to be as much trouble as you, is he?” he asks.

I turn expectantly to Babs.

“Not bloody likely,” Blaise answers with a smile, “I’ve no fondness for drinks that spontaneously combust, thank you.”

“Thank GOD!” Rolf says the exact same time I say, “Aww Babs, ya don’t mean it, do ya?”

“Sorry George dear,” Babs smirks, “But I love you too much to ever lie to you.”

I smirk back. “There we are, that’s more like it,” I say. “Was beginning to wonder what was wrong with ya, we been sittin’ here a whole two minutes and ya didn’t make one pass at me. Then again, that wasn’t quite tryin’ to drag me off to your bed.”

Babs raises his left eyebrow, “Well, I thought it went without saying at this point. You know how I feel about you, muffin. I’d simply adore to drag you off and have my wicked way with you.”

“Boo!” I retort. “You should know even if implied, a bloke never tires o’ hearin’ those three little words…how ‘bout shaggin.”

“Well, then, how about it?” Babs smiles, “Bit of a going away present for me?”

“Where you off to, anyhow?” I ask. “Gotta know what language to send you off in.”

Babs suddenly gets a shifty look in ‘is eyes, and seems mighty interested in his drink.

“Central Asia.” He says vaguely, “Near India.”

“Hmm…gonna have to get Paddy to brush me up on my Indian so’s I can send ya off all proper-like. How much time do I got?”

“Only two days I’m afraid.” Babs says, downing the rest of his whiskey and lookin’ to Rolf for another. “I’ve got to be gone by------.”

“Well, then I’ll just have to make do with a smack on the arse. That translates in any language! Mebbee not the same thing, but it does translate.”

Babs smiles, “Quite. Where I’m going, you wouldn’t want to try it, however. Not worth losing your hand over. Still, as we’re not where I’m going, I give you leave to smack, pinch, fondle and/or caress said arse any time or way you please.”

“Hm-hm!” I grin. “That a fact? How generous.”

Though our usual banter’s commenced rather swimmingly, it does make me a might suspicious. Babs took a full two minutes to even get around to makin’ eyes at me, and he’s hardly smirkin’ at all. All these smiles. Just smiles. Ain’t natural, I say. Something’s up. Don’t know if he’s like to let me in on it. Well…if Mr. Tight-arse is gonna be Tight-lip about it, I’ve got my own way to find stuff out. Time to start drinkin’ pints again.

“Of course it’s a fact,” Babs is saying, taking a big swig of his new drink, “You ought to know that by now, darling. You mean so much to me after all.”

That last bit sounded…sorta serious. Hmm. Mr. Ice Machine getting’ all mushy. Yeah, definitely gonna have to give my pubbles on the phone. Have our dear little Babs grow a tail. Not like I’m gonna try ‘n stop im. Just so’s I know what’s goin’ on.

“Well, o’ course,” I say. “But you’re still too young.”

“To my everlasting dismay,” he says, smilin’ again.

“I know,” I say somberly, putting a hand on ‘is shoulder.

“I know you do.” Babs sighs, “It’s my lot in life to love men that won’t have me, I suppose.”

“Aww, love?” I coo. “Babs, I didn’t realize I meant that much to ya.”

“Course you do, pumpkin.” Babs chuckles, then gets all serious lookin’, “Still… you do know that I…. That our friendship….” He’s really not looking at me now, starin’ instead at his drink, “well, it’s been lovely. Thank you.”

“Been a pleasure,” I say. Kay, now ‘e’s gettin’ more serious. I honestly don’t know quite what to say. “Been a good friend,” I decide, finally.

Blaise smiles a little ruefully, “You have, or I have been? Because I assure you that you have.”

I smirk. “You have,” I say. “Bloody pronouns. Damned essential, aren’t they?”

“Yes. Quite.”

Babs is just staring into his drink now. This looks worse than I thought.

“Should I just go on pretending I’m not noticing something’s up, or should I ask what the bloody hell’s going on?”

He looks up at me, hesitating. Then he sighs and slumps down into his chair.

“I’m in trouble.” Blaise says finally, “I seriously fucked up a few years ago, and its coming back to bite me in the arse now. And I deserve it,” he says in this rush, “I mean, I know I do. But…. I might not make it back from this business. And I’m finally happy. Neddy….” He stops abruptly and shakes his head, “I’ve said too much already.”

“Not necessarily,” I say. “From the sounds of it, sounds like you’re burstin’ to get that off your chest. Feel right honoured you’d trust me enough to tell me. Anything I can help with?”

He doesn’t say anything for a second, then he bursts out, “It’s all my fault! All of it, the whole sodding mess it’s all my fault! And if I don’t make it back, I’m only getting what I ruddy deserve, but I don’t want to give everything up! I just….”

Woah there. That was quite unbabsly. If the uncharacteristic overabundance o’ unsmirkin’ smiles was, this certainly tops that.

“Well, fact that you got something makes ya happy, means you’ve got something to fight for. Assumin’ you’re fightin’. I mean, I just assumed, with the whole ‘might not make it back’ thing.” I clap ‘im on the shoulder. “We’ll all be waitin’ for ya to get back, eh?”

The hand that’s holdin’ his drink is shakin’ a bit.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he says a little desperately, “Really I didn’t. I thought… I should have… I swear to Merlin, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

I squeeze ‘is shoulder. “S’alright. I know.” I take ‘is glass with my other hand and remove it from ‘is shakin’ hand. Half the drink’s already sloshed onto the bar. “Tell ya what. I got something I think’d help. Got me and Fred out of a tight spot.”

He looks over at me, eyes a little unfocused, “What?”

After I set the glass a bit away from ‘im, I reach into my pocket and fiddle with the ciggy case ‘til I find the brooms. I take one out and hold the mini-broom out to ‘im.

Babs stares at for a second, “Very cute.” He says finally.

“Innit?” I ask with a smirk. “Don’t worry, don’t reflect my own accommodations. Now this is our secret emergency escape plan.”

Blaise blinks at me, then shakes his head, “I can’t accept that. You should keep it.”

“I got another,” I say with a shrug. “Besides, I’m not the one in troub…well, not in too much trouble,” I add with a wink. “This thing’ll afford ya fifteen minutes flight-time once it’s full-size.”

Babs is still shaking his head, “No. No, really, I can’t. I shouldn’t. I told you, it’s my fault anyway, so if I…. If I…. It’s no more than I deserve.” He looks away, slouching down further in his seat, “You wouldn’t… you wouldn’t offer it if you knew.”

“Don’t be too sure,” I say’ pryin’ his hand open and placing the broom in it.

“I am sure.” He says, rasing his voice a little, “I wouldn’t blame you either. But you would. I mean, you’re a Gryffindor, bravery comes naturally to you, and I’m just… a coward.”

“Wouldn’t really call rightin’ wrongs cowardly.” I watch ‘is face go a little green. “Alright, if you’re so sure I won’t, try me. It’s the only way we’re gonna settle this whole tug o’ war with the broom. What’d you do was so bad even I wouldn’t offer help?”

“I let someone die.” He chokes out, “I left him, and he died. I should have made sure he was getting away alright. I swear, I thought he was right behind me. But I should have checked. I should have pulled him along with me.”

He takes a deep breath and says, “I was in Pakistan. I was smuggling illegal potions ingredients over the boder from Afghanistan. My partner, Imaan… well, we were more than friendly, you know? I did care about him, I really did. He meant the world to me. Then one night we were going through this gully, and we happened on a group of Afghan tribesmen that were patrolling the border. We tried to get away with the stuff, but it was slowing us down. So we ditched it and tried to run for it, but we were outnumbered, and they knew the territory better. I managed to pull us into a canyon, and lost them in the rocks. But I lost sight of Imaan. I thought he was just hiding somewhere behind me. So I kept going. I didn’t stop to make sure he was alright. I just kept running, hiding- trying to save my own skin. I found a spot to lie low, and I stayed there. I stayed all night and all the next day, but Imaan never came. I managed to make it back to our camp, but he wasn’t there either. I waited for another day, and then I ran back to his family’s village.” Babs pauses in his tirade and takes a shaky breath, “The Afghans left his body with his brother.” He says tightly, “And his brother spat in my face and told me it was my fault, and I knew he was right. And now I’ve got to go back there and do a favour for his brother, to try and pay back the horrible debt I owe his family. But there’s a chance I won’t… come back.”

I’m quiet a mo as I take in all this. Quite a lot of info he just dumped in my lap, and quite unexpected. I blink. Consider. Then say, “Well, if ya ask me, the important thing is that you regret what happened. I mean, not everybody who would go off ‘n risk ‘is life to make up for neglect what ended in fatality. I mean, not as if you meant to get ‘im killed. So, way I see it, so’s you can clean the slate, make up for it, and live to go live your happy one guilt less, looks like you’ll be needin’ something can help you escape again.”

Babs blinks up at me for a long time.

“You…” he starts, then clears his throat, “That’s very kind of you. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I answer, not my usual response to something like that, but then again, this isn’t your usual convo, neither.

“I… well, I should probably go.” Blaise says, “I’ve already taken up too much of your time. Thank you again. It’s been a pleasure knowing you. And your brother. Please tell him that for me.”

“Will do,” I say. “You send that snoozer of an owl when you get back, eh? And we’ll have a welcome back drink. But in the meantime, keep that broom on hand. If ya need it, just telescope it on out. And don’t forget…fifteen minutes.”

Babs is lookin’ at me like he’s never seen my like before.

“You… still want to see me?” he asks incredulously, “When I get back?”

“Course you slanty-eyed bugger,” I say, chuffin’ im on the shoulder. “There’s only one Babs, after all, and you still haven’t managed to bed me.”

He cracks a small smile, “That’s true- I haven’t yet, have I? Well, in that case, I should be back, God willing, in no more than a month. Keep your calendar open, darling.” He hesitates then says, “And thank you. For… well, everything, I suppose.”

I wink at ‘im. “Sure. Been a pleasure, it has. And I’ll mark the date with hearts.”

He laughs quietly, “Alright, it’s a date, then. Take care of yourself, George. I’ll send word as soon as I can.”

“Lookin’ forward to it,” I tell ‘im. “Know I don’t have to tell you to take care. A bloke what’s got a happy life to come back to won’t go all careless-like. Least not likely.”

He smiles, “Yes. Goodbye George. For now.” He adds.

“See ya later, Babs,” I say.

Babs smiles and nods, standing from his chair and tossing a few coins on the bar. As promised, I smack ‘im soundly on the bum and wink. “Somethin’ to send ya off with.”

He tosses his head back and outright laughs at that. “Thank you for that. A lovely send off. I’d return the favour but,” he shrugs, “I doubt you’d appreciate it as much as I do.”

“Far too young,” we say in tandem and smirk.

“Have a lovely vacation, Babsy! Bring me back some souvenirs!!!”

“Oh yes, it’s on the top of my holiday to-do list.” He rolls his eyes, “Have a good night, Weasley.”

“And you too, Zamboni.”

Mums the word

2009-01-24T06:23:18Z

I can't remember if it's Sunday nights Mum works or Friday nights. One o' those two she has off and I can never remember which. Sorta hope it's tonight so I can avoid gettin' my ear stretched or talked off, and get a chance to chat up Dad alone. 'Course gotta spend a mo with Percy, teachin' 'im about the finer art of gnome-put, one of the sports of Weaslympics.

I pop over to the Burrow and see it as lit up and cozy and friendly and smelling-good as it always is. Doesn't necessarily mean Mum's home, but it's a safe bet. Get the feelin' I won't be able to weasel my way out of a visit with her. Not that I mind much. Love Mum, love 'er to pieces. Only wish she'd let me alone with how I live, how Fredgie and I live, all that sort.

When I get up to the house, I look through the window for sign of Dad or lack-of-sign of Mum. Strain my ear to hear if she's about. Not a sound. Little odd, that. I furrow my brow and cast a few quick charms, see if there's been some nefarious doings about. Don't detect anything. I check the protections on the front door. Nothin' odd there, either. I put my ear to the door again, then send out an extendable ear. It creeps along under the door and into the room for parts unknown, listenin' along. Still no sound.

A tad worried, I reel the ear back in and stuff it in my pocket, then do a quick silencing spell on the soles o' my shoes. Open the door as noiselessly as I can. Open the door up. Step quietly into the kitchen, and take a look around me. Nothin' seems out of order. A few o' Mum's new trinkets are around. A few more darnin' spots on the chair cushions. Think that's a new cleaver mark in the wall. Mum musta threw a fit about something and 'er magic threw a cleaver. Oh no wait, that was a mis-fire when Fredgie and me were playin' Lockhart Shooting Gallery (It was a tie, he got four books, I got four books. Mum was furious).

I move to the base o' the stairs and listen hard. No sound. Nobody's home. So why's the light on? All the lights on. And there's a fire in the fireplace, too.

Hope nothing else happened with that wacko Light business, and Mum and Dad and Perce didn't flee the country again. I put my foot on the bottom stair and start to ease up when there's a big flash o' green light and a great load o' coughing from the fireplace.

*cough*cough*hack*clearsthroat*cough*"Fred!"

"George," I correct, knowing she won't believe me anyways. Half the fun of it. A greatly diminishing fun, at that. So many people are pickin' up on tells. Course could have something to do with which raises an eyebrow, a grandmum or a daughter. Not that there's been much eyebrow raisin' lately, for neither.

"Oh George, dear, I'm sorry, of course! How are you? Oh come here, give us a hug," she bustles out as she strides over and clamps 'er arms around me in a tight squeeze.

"Oi!" I squeek out. "Mum, ease up, eh? Love you too, but oi! Can't manage to give you one too."

"Oh, I'm sorry, dear."

"Where were ya, anyhow? Dad around?"

"No, I was just dropping Percy off at Bill and Fleur's for dinner, and need to make dinner for your father when he gets home. He's having a late night tonight."

"Ah, so he's not home?" I ask, thinkin' to myself I shoulda seen she was in grand-mum mode with how tight she was squeezin'. Just off to see the weaslings'll get 'er extra snuggly and thankfully she's more like to overlook disappointments. Lucky me!

"No, he's late tonight, so I've dinner to cook up. Could you give us a hand, George?"

"What would ya like me to mangle?" I ask.

She pauses. "On second thought..."

"Heh. Soz, I can't stay too long anyhow. Got some malfunctions at the new place I gotta take care of put promised Katie I'd drop by here and chew on Dad's ear 'bout something."

"Oh, what's that dear? If you've got to get back to your place, I could just pass along the message."

Woah, them twinlings really musta gooed over the prickly outta Mum in a major way tonight. She's not even clickin' 'er tongue about the Maison!

"Sure, s'pose you could do that. Well see, you remember Katie Bell, eh?"

"Oh yes, nice friend of yours, was she?"

"Yeah, the nice friend," I confirm. She hardly was much endeared by Lee.

"What does dear Katie want with your father?"

"Well, didn't go on about it much, just said she wanted to help a friend and needed Dad's help, so could I fix it so's they could meet up."

"Oh, I see. Well yes, yes I can tell your father to get word to her."

"Ta Mum, really do appreciate it," I say and hug 'er, kiss 'er cheek, and try to step out of reach 'fore she squeezes my head off.

"Would you like to stay for a bite at least, George dear?" she asks.

"Can't, Mum, sorry. I gotta get back to that place, fix the problem, and get home to Fred 'fore the Tori Catch-a-Chicken gets cold."

Mum actually rolls 'er eyes at this, but before she's got a chance to berate us for ruinin' good food, I start for the door. "Gotta go now Mum, love ya, bye!"

After a flustered good-bye from Mum, I step out into the Devon air and a hop, skip, and a jump later, I'm back at the Maison. Once I'm safe in the mini-flat behind the top part of the place, I call out my patronus and tell the little silver rascal my message to Kiggles, that Mum's said she'll talk to Dad and he'll get in touch with 'er soon. Then I send 'im off and get down to the new business at hand.

Getting those crazy kids together

2009-01-18T05:49:27Z

I X’d Babs to have him come visit the Maison…purely innocent, you understand. Didn’t get a response, but I hope to Hades he does pop on by. I got a surprise for ‘im!

Sure enough, the door opens, and his Babsness strolls in, looking amused.

“You know,” he says conversationally, “I really thought I’d been slipped some sort of hallucinogenic drug when your owl showed up. Did you do that to the poor creature, or did it come to you that way?”

“Fell into a vat of blue dye, he did,” I explain, throwin’ my arm around his shoulders. “How ya doin, Babs?”

“I’m doing well,” he smiles, “Better, now that I’ve seen you, of course.”

“Aww, flattered I am,” I say, batting my eyelashes. “Well Sweetie, I got a surprise for you’s gonna cheer ya up further!”

“Mmm, you’re going to get naked in your office and let me cover you in chocolate sauce?” he smirks, “Am I on the right track?”

“But first!” I say, leading ‘im down the hall. “I got somebody you’re gonna wanna seeeee-eeeee!”

“Oh yes?” he asks, left eyebrow raised, “Your twin is already naked in your office with chocolate sauce? Two for the price of one?”

“Close,” I say. “Nope, your girlfriend’s back in town.”

Babs looks at me curiously, “I’m sorry, dear, I thought you said girlfriend. Sure;y you’ve noticed that my tastes of late have leaned more toward the testosterone side of the spectrum. And who do you mean, anyway?”

“You’ll see!” I sing and lead him into Doxie’s room.

Afternoon coffee between two twindividuals

2009-01-14T03:29:03Z

Sorta thankful Parv went off to her wedding thing after all them kids went back to school, and before them Hogwarts orders started up again. I couldn’t spare the weekend to pick up the slack, since I’m workin’ the laf with Aley. Thankfully all we got pending is Flitty’s tatts.

I’d considered takin’ the day off, but she comes back Wednesday and I reckon I can wait that long. In the meantime, I’m arranging the stock shelves from the melee of weekend sales and Pip and Thack’s mad-house rush to replenish.

"George or Fred?"

The other Patil twin speaks up. “Do you have a moment? I just have a quick question to ask.” She looks nervous, though I don’t know why.

“Over coffee?” I suggest. Fightin’ off the coffee might help take ‘er attention off ‘er nerves.

She hesitates. "Is it going to attack or something?"

“Only if you want it to. Might just play.”

"Well, as long as it doesn't do too much damage. I've got dance to focus on and it'd be bad if I couldn't come into work," she answers.

“The coffee never did worse than knock me out for a few seconds,” I say with a shrug. “And that was only the super strong stuff. Don’t worry, it’s safe enough.”

"Thanks," she smiles. "Is now good? It really it just a short question."

“Sure, come on back to the office, eh? You’re already set up there, you can get back to work whenever you wanna kick me out.”

She laughs. "This is your business," she reminds me. "So you can come and go as you please."

“Well then, in that case, I’ll just come into the office as I please and make some coffee.” We walk into the office and I head over to the coffee service. I spend a few secs whippin’ up a pot to brew, and then pull over a chair. “What’s on your mind then?”

"Well, it is more of a favor. I know that things are more difficult without Parvati. I was wondering if maybe I could leave an hour early. I could come in tomorrow for a few hours to make up for it," she quickly adds.

“Nah, nah, you keep your day off as a day off,” I say, waving the thought off. “What’s the occasion?”

"Well, not really an occasion. I wanted to get some more time at St. Mungos before it gets too late."

“Mungos?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. “Didn’t know you needed to visit Mungos.”

She shakes her head, leaning back in her chair. "No. I have a friend there though."

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, leaning back myself, but to grab the pot and pour us two mugs. “Been in there m’self. Can get a bit lonely when you’re alone. So what’s your friend in for, if ya don’t mind my askin’.”

"He fell of a roof and injured himself on a chainsaw and on a tree in the process. He was in a muggle hospital for awhile and has been in St. Mungos since around New Years."

I cringe at the thought. “Yow! Well, hope for speedy healings, that’s for sure.” Least he doesn’t have to grow an ear.

"I hope so too, though looks like it will be a few more weeks," she sighs.

“Hmm, not your basic injury, eh?” I remember when Dad got bit by that snake, he was in there for a good while ‘cause they couldn’t get the bite to stay closed. Bloke doctor tried to sew it shut. Mum had a conniption. “Well, good on him for gettin’ into Mungos. Much as I love ‘em, Muggles have some strange ways o’ tryin’ to heal a body.”

"They do the best they can," she answers with a shrug.

“That they do,” I agree. “And do quite well at that.”

"So would it be a problem if I left an hour early? I meant what I said, i can come in for a few hours tomorrow," she offers, then glances at her coffee mug, looking wary.

“I know you been workin’ extra hard to make up for Parv bein’ gone,” I say. “Keep your day off and you’re welcome to lead an hour early. I know you’ll make up for it Wednesday.”

"Thanks," she gives me a small smile. "And Parvati will be back soon too." She looks happy about this.

Ah yes, twinpartation. Always difficult for one twin when the other’s away. Nobody would get it as well as a fellow twin would. Sure, it’s only been a week, but for a twin, it’s at least twofold. Twin-math.

“Throwin’ her a welcome back bash?”

She shakes her head. "Not really a party. Hopefully I can get some time with her during the evening when she gets back."

“As much a party as a twin could ask for.”

She laughs. "That's true. It's just...it's been hard," she admits.

“I know it,” I say, scooting my chair closer. “Even a night’s hard. A night feels like a week. A week feels like a month. Let’s not even start on months!”

She nods and sighs. "Nights are hard. And I have to stop myself from picking up the phone to call her."

“Oh, I hear ya.” I tap the rim of my coffee mug on hers. “Something only a twin would get.”

She nods. "Exactly." She pauses before asking, "How do you get through it?"

“I have a kneazle,” I answer. “And I make things blow up. Or…I occupy myself otherwise for the night. How ‘bout you?”

"Dancing helps. So I've been dancing a lot. But it's lonely in the house with just me. Oh and our new owl."

“Mm, lonely. The bane of a twin’s existence. It’s downright unnatural.”

"Something else a nontwin wouldn't understand."

I kick off and start turning in my swivel chair. “Don’t see what’s so hard to understand, really. When the first second you start to exist, you’re with another person who at the exact same moment starts to exist, and you exist right next to that same person all through it, when the other person’s gone, it feels like for a moment, ya don’t or something.”

She nods. "People don't have that...connection. Parvati and I can always tell if something is wrong with the other, even from a distance."

“Guess it’s one o’ them things uncomprehendible ‘less you got it. People think you’re selfish when ya feel lonely without the other. But it’s a whole different ball o’ wax. Twinemotions’re a thing in and of itself. Eternity and existence in two people together.”

She’s quiet a mo before adding, "but sometimes you get another person in the mix."

“Mm. Yeah,” I agree, immediately thinking of the ‘nother person in Fredgie’s and my scenario. “That’s always tough. And scary.”

"I am happy for her. I am. But sometimes I miss her, even when she is here."

Preachin’ to the choir, Padma, I think to myself. “I know,” I reply. Oh Pads, do I know.

She looks at her hands, drumming them against the mug. "I don't tell her about that though. About how it feels, because he makes her happy. Merlin, after they broke up I did everything I could and helped them meet so they could talk and they got back together." She looks back at me. "You are going through it too?"

I pause a moment, never liking to talk about anything with anybody but Fred, but Fred’s the one person I can’t talk to about it, and Padma’s prob’ly the only other person’d understand.

“Yeah, I am,” I answer, sliding down a little in the chair.

"Does he know?" she asks.

I look down at the mug in my hand, the coffee’s raised up in little spikes. “Yeah. Sorta…let it slip one night. Does she?”

She shakes her head. "No, she doesn't. She might have a feeling or know how I feel, but I've never told her."

“Tough, isn’t it?” I mumble. “Not bein’ able to say a thing, and ya always want to.”

"Yes. But I'd feel horrid if she ended it because of that. She was so miserable without him. I couldn't hurt her like that," she scruffs the toe of her shoe on the floor.

I think on how happy Fred is with Astrea, how he was when we were so swamped with work he couldn’t go see her. Much as I don’t like her…

I sigh. “Another thing nobody else’d get. A whole nother kinda lonely. Least we both get it, so we can say what we wanna to them, but not have to.”

"And it doesn't get easier," she sighs.

I groan on the inside. Not like I was thinkin’ she’d say it would get easier, just that I want to think it could. Don’t like how much this thing makes me feel like I’m stuck, like I’m drowning and being strangled.

“You like ‘im alright, though?”

"I like him alright, I guess. And do you like her?"

I shake my head, not trusting to say the words. I still feel guilty in saying it, but at least a little better as I’m telling somebody who’d understand. “Funny that, ‘cause I got ‘em together. She’s nice enough. Just don’t like her.”

"Because you're used to it being you and him and now it is you, him and her, right?" she asks.

“No, don’t think so,” I shrug.

"Then what is it?" she gives me a quizzical look.

“Couldn’t rightly say. I tried to like ‘er, mostly for Freddie’s sake, but…”

"But couldn't?"

“But couldn’t,” I confirm. “’Course maybe it coulda helped if we didn’t have that damned agreement,” I mumble to myself.

"Agreement? What kind of agreement?" she asks, clearly having heard what i said.

“Oh. Oi.” I scratch my chin. “Well, see back at Hogwarts, sorta ‘bout the same time Fred started datin’ Angelina, we…made this agreement.” Was more Fred suggested it. “If one of us was datin’ somebody else, couldn’t say anything about it. If we didn’t like ‘er…yeah, that sorta thing. She was off-limit for pranks. We couldn’t tease ‘er. Ya know…”

Padma frowns. "But then you're not being honest with each other. What if she was really a bad sort?"

I shrug. “Can’t say mum. And you see my quandary ‘bout the honesty thing. You better’n most, I bet.”

"It helps to talk to another twin when talking about twin trouble." She sighs. "I wish I knew what I could say about your problem. Do you both make time for just the two of you, without it being about work?"

“Yup, we do.” I nod. “Make time to invent together, have our movie nights, just be clones. Wouldn’t really call inventing work, ‘cause we been doin’ that our whole lives. It’s just what we do.”

"Does that help? Usually if Parvati and I haven't had a lot of time together for one reason or another, it helps, because it's just us and no one else."

“It always helps,” I answer. “Sure. Always feels right just us. But reckon I got different thoughts about the future o’ things.”

"What do you mean?" she asks, moving to take a sip of coffee, which then turns solid. She frowns at it then turns back to me.

“Well…y’see, I never been serious when I date. It’s just for companionship and fun, mutual, y’understand. Because I know my future’s always with Fred. Only…Fred does get serious. I know he thinks future with another person.”

She winces. "I know what that's like. Do you think it will happen? Things being that...serious I mean."

I sigh. “Yeah, I think it will. Maybe not with her, maybe with her, but figgur it will.”

"Then that leads to a lot of other questions and worries, doesn't it?"

“That it does,” I agree. “How ‘bout you?”

"I think she'll marry him. One day. I don't really know what I'll do when she does," she admits.

“You think you’ll get married? Would ya mind livin’ in the same house with them?”

She laughs quietly. "Just had a break up a few weeks ago, so I don't think marriage is something I need to consider yet. And I don't know. It's a bit weird, when it's the three of us. They'd probably want their privacy too."

“Most certainly,” I agree. “You free to talk about that sorta thing with her? What’s gonna happen if she does? Bet you worry ‘bout it, all that living arrangements sorta stuff.”

"We haven't talked about it. They've only been together a few months. I haven't brought it up yet."

“S’a tough thing to bring up. Scary, I bet. Sorta…worried about the answers.”

"Yeah. I mean without Mum and Dad, it's been just us. She's all I've got left. I'm not a Gryffindor, so I'm not really brave. I think I'm kind of scared to bring it up."

“And bein’ a Ravenclaw, bet you overanalyze the dickens out of it.”

"Guilty as charged," she laughs.

I grin, though I don’t feel the happiness behind the grin. Just sort of a kin-ship. “You’re not alone.”

She raises an eyebrow. "Are you a Ravenclaw disguised as a Gryffindor?"

“In my case, it’s purely obsession,” I chuckle. “Hardly what you’d call overanalyzing. More…paranoia. The brave can be paranoid.”

This makes her laugh. "Well, depends on the amount of paranoia. Being a little paranoid is okay."

“We make quite the pair, don’t we?” I ask and shake the spikes in my cup into little coffee ball bearings. “An overanalyzer and a paranoiac. S’too bad we twins couldn’t fall in love with another pair o’ twins. All move in together. Be a twin household. Would solve loads o’ problems.”

"It's probably happened. Do you think it would make it better if that happened?"

I let out a laugh. “Well, yeah. All four people live by the same principle o’ life. Understand the twinnitude. But doesn’t matter a snit, would never happen.”

"Well, not with our twins smitten with nontwins," she agrees.

“Yeah, and the fact the only way that would happen if is one twin was forty years older’n the other twin.”

"Really?" she asks. "That might be hard, because last I checked, that hasn't happened yet."

I snort and the snort develops into laughter. “They’d be a right miracle o’ science, they would!”

She laughs too. "Well, actually now that I think of it, they do. Aging potions."

“Boo…cheating,” I dismiss. “Fred and I know first hand aging potions’re no substitute for real maturity.”

She tries to hold back laughter, but fails. "I think everyone saw or heard about that."

I grin in pride. “Them whiskers tickled. Wish we’d gotten a picture of it.” I scoot my chair closer and throw my arm around her shoulder. “Well…know you’d rather have told your twin, but is somebody else’s twin a passable substitute?”

She laughs and wraps her arm around me. "Yes. Especially one who has similiar concerns."

“Maybe we oughta get together for Lonely Twin night when they’re off bein’ in lurve.”

"That would be nice. We could call it an undate."

“Could surely do that,” I agree. “But only when both our twins’re off, eh? Know we gotta get in as much twin-time as we can.”

"Of course," she answers.

I grin. “It’s an undate, then. Now, when do you gotta get off to see your Mungos mate?”

"In a few hours. Just to leave an hour early."

I nod and shake my coffee mug again, the jingling turning into one big clunk. “S’pose we both better get back to work, eh?”

"I guess so. But I know I feel better. Do you?" she asks.

“A tad, yeah,” I say. “Even if you’re not Fred, ‘least you understand. Thanks for the ear.”

"Well, I'm always willing to lend both," she smiles.

“I’d offer both mine,” I say and start to laugh, “but last time I lent my left, it never came back. Had to grow a new one!”

"One is fine," she laughs.

We laugh together for another good minute and then I toss back the rest of my coffee, which has solidified into a rather large jawbreaker. “Ow. Bugger. Well, anytime ya wanna borrow my right ear, you know where to find me most days.”

Burning things

2008-12-19T06:04:34Z

When Fredgie and I got the first complaint about the food, we thought it was somebody just not likin’ eatin’ what looked like brains and bogies and whatnot. We sorta laughed it off and went about our businesses. Because the fact of the lafeteria is, the food looks gross. Healthy and tastes good, but it looks nasty. It’s just the way it is.

But then we sorta got other complaints, sorta in passing, about the food. Was a might curious, since people come to the Maison for juvenile humour, and eatin’ brains and bogies is all a part of the immature laugh.

Sadly, it wasn’t ‘til Dox had to call in not-comin-in and Aley came to give us a hand in the laf that somebody came by and complimented us on the new cook, that it was unburnt for once. Sorta made me do a clone-take (double…get it?) on that one. Unburnt…for once? Hmm.

The Fredge and I had a lovely long talk that next week about it. We were concerned as clones can be about our little Doxie and why she had to skive off work, and we didn’t really wanna face that she may be doin’ an unacceptable job of it, but with the complaints comin’ from our patrons, and now knowin’ what it was all about, we had to face facts on it. Dox had to be moved duty. Family or no, the integrity of our immature cuisine was at stake, as well as our reputation, the reputation of our business, the sacrifice poor Zonko made, all our staff…well, fact o’ the matter was, had to be dealt with.

And I get the happy privilege of chattin’ up the Dox about it.

I sit in the office, near the staff-room, and crunch at my coffee as I watch the Thursday crew arrive.

I see her walk in as she pulls her hair back into a ponytail. She looks distracted and tired, but otherwise, she looks like the same old Doxie. She walks into the staff room and sits down on a chair as she rubs her face a bit to wake up.

I get up from my chair and step across to the door to the staff room. “Shouldn’t you already be awake? You just clocked a full over at the Daily Pathetic, after all.”

She winces, "Yeah, sorry." Ginny stands, "I'm sorry I wasn't here that other weekend, George. I left you in a pinch. It won't happen again."

“S’alright,” I say. “Had a mate I promised to teach a bit o’ culinary nastiness to, and he helped me feed the masses. Could ya spare us a minute, though? Wanted to chat you up about something.”

She nods, "Yeah, of course. Always."

“Step into my parlor, said the spider to the fly!” I grin and wave her down the hall to the office.

She rolls her eyes and walks down to my office and steps inside and flops down into a chair, "Look, if you're upset because I didn't tell you what happened, it’s just because I didn't want to worry you and Fred when you have this place and WWW to manage. I didn't want you to take time out when this is more important." She bites her lip and stares at me.

“Oh come off it,” I snort, walking to the coffee service and spooning out a bit of the stuff for my Dox. “We worry more when we don’t know what’s happened. You know, we do have the most active imaginations in the family alone, and doubled up the way we are? You can imagine the terrors we can dream up.”

"Bet you didn't dream this up." She mutters. "I was stuck at Shell Cottage. According to the healers at St. Mungos I wasn't allowed to apparate for a few days so my ribs could heal properly." She takes the coffee and sets it on my desk, "I went looking for Astrea. Alone. Some Wizards decided they didn't like our family much and beat me up pretty badly. Draco found me unconcious and vomiting blood and brought me to the hospital. That's why I wasn't here. I didn't have a choice, but I'm still sorry. I was stupid going down Knockturn alone."

Did she say…Draco? No need to ask why he was down Knockturn, but what was he doin’ haulin’ Ginny off to Mungos when he’s done nothing in the past but shoot verbal bogies at our family and make Crabs and Boils crack their knuckles in our general direction. Maybe the mono-browed diseases got lost on their way home from Hogwarts and the ferret had to face facts it was either chip a nail or be nice.

“Hmm. Well, Fredgie had ribs, have to give ‘im that galleon, though I got the blood-traitor deal, though I thought your hex’d rebounded and you didn’t wanna risk guano in the food…eh, either way, it’s even.”

"I haven't even had a chance to send off a hex towards anyone lately..." She says thoughtfully then stands and walks towards me and hugs me tightly, resting her head on my shoulder. "I don't think we'll ever be even with as many times you tricked me into being a "special helper" for your inventions." I can hear the joking tone in her voice, "Thank you for understanding."

I pat her back. “S’alright, k. And I got something to give ya, too. Well, Fredge and I do, that is.”

She pulls back and looks at me. "If it's going to make me ill I don't want it."

I laugh and pat her on the head. “That’s our Dox. Nah, you’ll like these. But they are top secret and family only, you hear me? No lettin’ on to anybody, and I mean it.”

She frowns and swats at my hand, "I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to...you know that. I can keep a secret."

I nod and cast a few privacy charms on the shut office door, then nudge the coffee mug in ‘er hand. “Little do you know, my dear Dox, what remarkable geniuses your older twin brothers are.” I smirk.

She looks down at the cup then quickly puts it back on my desk, "What does it do? Turn me into a coffee bean for a short amount of time? I really don't want to be turned into one. It will take too long to get the smell out of my hair."

I snort. “No, not that, Doxie, though that is quite a wonder in itself.” The coffee glirps bashfully. “Just tellin’ you to drink up, eh?”

She shakes her head, "Not until you tell me what it does so I can be prepared. I'm not a big fan of surprises at the moment."

“Boo. It’s just coffee,” I say, to which my coffee hardens into a solid block. “Ah bugger. Where’s the ice pick?” As I search around my desk for the ice pick, I say, “But that’s not the big secret you’re not s’posed to tell anybody else. You ruined my big build-up to it, Dox.”

"Just coffee that gurgles and changes consistency? Excuse me for being a bit cautious." She sighs again, "I'm sorry I ruined it. I didn't mean to."

I stick my tongue out at her. “Go on, Dox. How bad can it be? I’m drinkin’ it! Ah-hah!” I sit back down in my chair and with one hand, start stabbing at the coffee with my ice-pick, while my other hand takes up my wand and starts tapping and waving and spelling and some such, til a secret drawer pulls outta the desk.

"Fine." She says in an exasperated tone and takes a small sip and swallows it quickly as she puts the mug back down on my desk, "Happy?"

I grin and shake a shower of coffee chips into my mouth. “Now as I was sayin’, Dox, your older twin brothers are geniuses beyond your imagination.”

"...yes, we all know that. What did you invent this time, then?"

“This, dear sister, your second skin!” I pull out from the secret drawer one of the body armours and hand it to her.

She looks from it to me, then back to the armour in her hand. "Umm. What is it, exactly?"

“I’m rubber, you’re glue,” I return.

"No riddles, please. I already have a headache." She tells me as her frown grows deeper.

“I wasn’t riddling you,” I say, pulling the silver case out of the drawer. “I was giving you a straight and honest answer. Isn’t that what you’re always askin’ us for?”

"So this..." She holds it up, "Sticks to me once I put it on and I won't be able to get it off ever again? I'll get all stinky because I won't be able to shower properly."

“Hex me,” I say, instead. “Only proper way for you to get it, I’m thinking.”

She looks startled, "What hex?"

“Just any old hex,” I say, knowing she’d never use the three it doesn’t work against.

She bites her lip and points her wand at me. She says nothing but a shot of something comes from the tip of her wand then bounces back towards her and she quickly dodges it. "What the bloody..." She says as she looks back at me and pushes her ponytail back over her shoulder, "It repels hexes?"

I smirk. “I’m rubber,” I explain, pointing to my chest. “And you’re glue. What bounces off me, sticks to you. It repels any spoken spell and shoots it back at one-third the strength. It works for all spells but unforgivables, but it only stops the effects the spells, not the physical force of the spells. They last about a year before they start to wear down, depending on if you’re doin’ regular daily wizards duels or not.”

She looks at the shirt in her hand again, "How did you invent this?! George this is..."She stops and looks at me, "And you're giving one to me? Surely someone more important should have one? Like the Minister or something?"

“Minister?” I spit. “Important? Not that wasp!” Does Ginny even know what that woman did to our family? I scowl. “Nobody’s more important than family. You wear that every day. Don’t ever take it off ‘til you get a new one.”

"What did she ever do to you?" she asks me, "And for being so important it was nice of you to tell me about Percy. I didn't find out about him until after I got home. Great conversation that was between Bill and I, 'Oh, by the way. Percy was obliviated and has no idea who you are.'" She glares at me throws the shirt back onto my desk, "I can take care of myself. I went two years without any contact from my family. I don't need special favours from you."

“We tried to contact you, baby sis, but you never answered back. Tried countless times, like when Mum and Dad had to make a run for it ‘cause o’ that Minister of Muck.” I get up and hand the armour at ‘er, looking her square in the eyes. “I’m not gonna force you to wear it, Dox, but we’ve had enough of the family being torn apart.”

"I never got them! Do you honestly think I would have picked Quidditch over our family?! I would have come back within seconds if I had known." She doesn't back down when I look at her, "I wouldn't know anything about that, would I?" She says in a low, angry voice. "I don't need it nor want it. Like I said, I can watch after myself." She sticks her chin out a bit in defiance, "And I don't need any help from you or Fred."

“Ginevra,” I growl. “Don’t be a prat. We all got it. Bill’s got it. Charlie’s got it. The whole family’s got it!” I close my eyes. “Honestly, Gin…I almost lost Fred, and that’s the only thing what saved ‘im. Please take it.”

"Don't. Use. My full name." She tells me in a growl to match my own, "Do you have any idea how much I missed all of you while I was gone? How much I wanted to see you? Have you come see my play? I had no contact from this family for two years and you wonder why I'm being a prat?" She stops and takes a step back and turns away for a few seconds and takes a deep breath before she looks at me again, the angry fire has gone from her eyes now and she grabs the shirt out of my hand roughly, "I needed you." She finally says in a whisper. "I know I'll never be as important as Fred because you have that...twin....connection. But for Merlin's sake, I thought my family had pretty much disowned me and I had done something wrong....made the wrong choice...should have stayed behind and done everything differently. Not one owl. Nothing. How would you feel if Fred left for years and never owled you? Maybe if that were to happen you'd finally understand why I'm so...angry at you. And not just you...everyone."

“We tried, for Pads sake, don’t take it out on us that our owls never reached you. You know how many times we tried? Don’t you go getting mad and blaming us saying we didn’t do something we tried time and time again to do, Ginny.” I clench my fist. “Honestly, how could you think it of us, eh? And we couldn’t find you. How do you think that made us feel?”

She opens her mouth like she's going to snap back at me but sits back in the chair instead. "I know. I'm sorry." She puts her head on the backrest, "That's not why you asked me in here though, is it?"

“Come to that, no,” I say, my voice returnin’ to its normal clonitude. “Fact is, Dox, doesn’t seem the lafeteria’s quite the right fit for you, sorry to say.”

This time she snorts, "Ah, the food burning. I should have known."

“Yeah, that,” I say. “Hope ya don’t mind it, but Fred and I’d like to fit you in a better spot, iffin that’d work out for ya. See, much as we love ya to bits, Dox, we can’t sell burned food to folks.”

She rubs her face again and nods, "Yeah, of course. I understand."

“Besides, you were always loads better prankin’ folk than feedin’ ‘em.”

A grin crosses her face and she giggles softly, "I learned from the best, didn't I?"

“’Course! Now see, you already got a head start on Packlesby and the lot, havin’ had our generous tutelage all them years.”

She rolls her eyes, "Not everyone can be as fortunate as me, What can I say." She says in a dramatic voice. "I should go or I'm going to be late and your customers will be so disappointed that they missed out on my expertise."

“Wait a mo,” I say quickly. “Gotta figure you a post, don’t we? You got a room you fancy?”

She shrugs. "Not really. Wherever I'm needed is fine."

I tip back and tap my chin. “Hmm…why don’t we start ya out in…the den. Loads o’ stuff to work with there. Let me quack Trudes so’s she can train ya up for the switches and safety counters and spells. We know you’re quick on the catch, so no worries there. I’d give ya the tour, but I gotta get busy m’self.”

She stands, "I understand." She starts to walk away but turns around at the door, "I'm sorry I yelled you and thanks for this." She holds up the armour. "I really do love you, you know. Both of you." She smiles and nods one more time, her eyes lingering on mine for a few seconds, then makes her way out and towards the den.

“Love you too, Dox,” I say quietly once she’s off to do her thing. I sit back in my seat and shake the coffee flakes around in the mug, throw a handful in my mouth (where it turns taffy-like), and then grab for a parchment to write to Iva, askin’ if I can teach her son more disgusting food while I look for a new cook.

Giftie idees

2008-12-16T10:59:14Z

I take the new recipe the clone and I’ve perfected and patented, and make a few copies, put some protection spells on ‘em, laminate ‘em, seal ‘em, and pray to Pads that Pip doesn’t incinerate ‘em.

“Gonna go run this down into the mad scientist’s laboratory. Pray to The Three I come back in one piece,” I tell Fred, pocketing one of the Ultra-Recipes.

I leave Fred laughing, yet promising his prayers, and trot on down the stairs into Pip’s den. “Oi!” I call in. “Genius entering. Make way.”

“Come on in, Fred and/or George,” Pip calls back.

“Got something new for you to try-and-not-blow-up,” I say.

“Cool,” Pip says, looking up from her cauldron, and I can’t help but laugh at what she’s got on. Her lil heart shaped face is half obscured by these enormous googly lookin’ safety goggles, and her hair’s fallin’ out of the tie she’s got it pulled back into. Looks more like a mad scientist than ever.

“Pip, or should I call ya Gizmo?”

“Huh?” she says, then crosses her eyes as she looks at the goggles, “Oh. Yeah. Hang on.” She pulls them off and smiles at me, shaking her hair outta her face, “There. What’s the new gig I’m not to blow up?”

I hand ‘er the recipe card. “And stick to the recipe, yeah?”

“You got it!” she salutes, military style, giggling. “Absolutely no explosions. Although from what I hear, you and the double have caused your fair share growing up.”

“Yeah,” I smile wistfully. “That we did. Well, ya gotta blow up a few eggs to make an omelet, dontcha know.”

“I’m not sure that’s the exact expression, boss.” She laughs, “From what your brother told me, you guys frequently rocked the house to the foundations.”

“Yeah, looked like a fair mansion before we got to work. Now looks like the Shriekin’ Shack! Say…” I say, stuffin’ my hands in me pockets. “How many o’ them flamin’ drinks you pour down Ronnard’s throat?”

“Just the one you guys bought us,” she shrugs, “then we had a few beers. Why d’ya ask?”

“Ya never did let on how that went,” I say. “Getting’ tired o’ waitin’ for you to come runnin’ all giddy to us to dish the details.”

“You don’t get details,” she says primly, nose in the air, “Since when am I the type of girl who kisses and tells?”

I snort. “Say what, eh? What about that muggle bloke back in August?”

“I didn’t tell you anything,” she protests, “You just guessed. Plus I was sleep deprived. There were extenuating circumstances.”

“WOAH! Hol’ on there, Pip. Extenuating? Them’s fancy words, they are. Okay then, I’ll leave it to my imagination how it went.” I tilt my head up and stare at the ceiling, where there’s a perfect, cauldron-shaped circle o’ soot. Then I gasp. “Pip! I didn’t know you were so…”

“Flexible?” she quips, “Sexy? Gorgeous in the nude? Any of those works for me, boss.”

“Was thinkin’ more along the lines of…naughty.”

“That too.” She smiles, “So, I guess I’ll just leave it up to your evil imagination. Are you George? I think George is the only one I told about Kevin, but I can’t remember.”

“You don’t think the clone and I share gossip?” I snort. “Pip, now really.”

“Point taken,” she shrugs, “Well, either way.” She looks around, all furtive like, “I need to ask you a very secret and important question.” She whispers.

“I’ll give you a very public and frivolous answer,” I promise.

“Cool,” she says, leaning in toward me, “My question is this: should I get Ron a Christmas gift, and if I do, what would he like?”

“Of course you should get ‘im something. He’d be super-chuffed. Lessee now…” I muse, lookin’ at that sooty cauldron-shape again. “He loves food,” I say, “but don’t make ‘im something, I’m thinkin’. Erm…”

“Really, you don’t think it would be too soon to be giving gifts?” she says, tuggin on ‘er hair. “I mean, y’know, I don’t want him to think… I don’t know.”

“What, that you fancy ‘im?” I laugh. “Don’t you worry none. He’ll be chuffed. Poor bloke’s always fancied he’s been in other peoples’ shadows, even though he towers over ‘em all. Erm…likes the Chudley Cannons. And chess…dunno. What did you have in mind?”

“I wasn’t sure,” she admits, twisting her scarf, “I mean, we don’t know each other that well yet. Lets’ see, we talked about… movies, chess, skateboarding, Quidditch. You.”

“Aww…” I bat me eyelashes. “How sweet.”

“Hmph. Sorta.” She says, eyes twinkling, “Next time, I’m going to weasel out some embarrassing stories about you.”

“I can’t wait to see what Ron thinks he can embarrass us with,” I snigger. “Ya got any hobbies, aside from makin’ toxic stuff in cauldrons?”

“Yes, of course I do,” she says, “I like skateboarding. And music. I like going to concerts. I used to surf in California. Do you have any hobbies?”

I laugh. “Pip, I’m not askin’ to get to know ya better. I’m askin’ for ideas for Ronnard. Seems to me, best present for somebody just getting’ to know somebody else is somethin’ you like you figgur he might like, too.”

“Yeah,” she says slowly, thinking, “Yeah, I like that. Good idea, boss!”

“Happy to help!” I say cheerily. “Was that public and frivolous enough for ya?”

“Perfectly.” She smiles, “I’ve already got your gift, and the double’s.” she pauses and smirks, “And Trudes’. She’s gonna love it!”

"Uh oh!" I laugh. "Just don't be too...vindictive," I decide after a pause. "We do gotta work with 'er, after all.”

“Aww, it’s not bad.” She scoffs, “just a little…playful. Yeah, playful.”

"Yeah, well you two just make sure it doesn't get to the point as it effects the workplace, eh?" I say. "It's one thing to prank somebody. And it's one thing to not like a person. But it gets the point where nasty pranks and snipin' takes place..."

“Don’t be silly,” she says, “you know I wouldn’t break the cardinal rule. Don’t worry your wee red head about it.”

“Pip, with you…I always worry.”

“It’s fine, boss,” she assures me, “You just wait til you see your gifty, though. It’ll knock your socks off!”

I pull up the hem of my robe and look down at my heliotrope wool socks with bright canary yellow galleons. “Wait ‘til I have more mundane socks on, eh? Sorta like these.”

“You got it,” she salutes cheerily, “Done any gifting yourself yet?”

“A smidge,” I say. “But was right busy this past weekend, coverin’ for Dox. Had myself a helper, who was a huge help, I might add. Mebbe this next weekend.”

“There’s some great stuff round the Alley,” she tells me, “But I got yours…elsewhere. Trudes’ too. Dunno where I’m going to find Ron’s. I’ll have to go on a quest to find it.”

“You’ll manage!” I laugh. “Well, gotta get back to the world o’ retail!”

“Bleh!” she makes a face, “Customer service. I tried that once.”

“And that’s why you’re down here.” I pat ‘er on the head. “Practice that one up a smidge at the end o’ your quota run today, iffin ya want. Otherwise, start production tomorrow on it, eh?”

“You betcha!” she says, “You want me to let Thack have a look-see too?”

“He’s got his own recipe for it,” I say. “Just pass on whatcha do to him and he’ll charm it finished.”

“Oh.” She furrows her brow, “It’s weird, but I only ever see Thack in passing. I mean, I didn’t know he even existed until, like, a week ago. I bumped into him in the hall and was sure that he was burglar or something.”

“Well, he’s got his own dungeon to inhabit,” I say. “Pleasant enough bloke, but keeps to hisself. You’ll see ‘im at the Christmas party.”

“What Christmas party?” she asks blankly, blinking.

“Last Monday ‘fore Christmas,” I explain. “Clone and I were talkin’ about it and figure we got enough staff we can have one finally.”

“Oh cool!” she says, “Great! What should I bring? Any food? Anything else I should do? Need help decorating?”

“Nah, think we got the decorations and food covered. All ya need to bring is yourself, and a guest iffin’ ya want.”

“Hmm,” she frowns, “I’m not sure wgo I would ask. I mean, Kevin’s a muggle. I guess I could ask Ron, but…I don’t know. What do you think?”

“Kevin? That your, er, muggle bloke? You’re not still, er, enjoyin’ friendly conversation with ‘im, are ya? What with Ronnard and movies and such?”

“If by friendly conversation you mean sex, the answer is no.” she says a bit crossly, “But we are still friends. I don’t sleep around.”

“Just askin!” I say, puttin’ my hands up. “Ya know, older brother duties and whatnot. Didn’t figgur you would, but ya know…Ronnard’s sorta…er…sorta been jilted, I s’pose you could say.” Irk. Rather not think about her. Way she just up and left like that, leavin’ poor Ronnard as he was.

“Oh.” She says slowly, “That’s too bad. He’s sucha cutie. Well, don’t worry, I won’t break his heart.” She sighs and leans in a little, “Actually, I’m not sure about things with Ron. I mean, I like him. A lot. But… I don’t know. Maybe its just on my side of things.”

“What makes ya say that?”

She sighs again, “I’m not really sure. Just… I mean, I know he said he had work and stuff, but he hasn’t owled or anything. Maybe he didn’t have as good a time as I did.”

Looks like some little brother needs a boot up ‘is arse.

“I’m sure ‘e’s just loads busy. And ‘e’s a tad absentminded. Well-meanin’ bloke and all, but…a bit spare in sense. So dontcha worry none, eh?”

“Ok.” She smiles a little, “If you say so. You know him better than me, anyway.”

“Sure. Go on, have fun practicin’ that recipe after you get your lot done, but I gotta pop back on upstairs, eh?”

“Sure.” She winks, “I’ll do my best not to make sure the building’s foundation is up to code.”

“It’s only the strongest foundation in the world. It can only take so much.”

“Uh-huh.” She agrees, “Go on, then. Get back to the mirror image.”

I salute and head for the stairs. “Pleasant chattin’ with ya, Pip.”

To Chaz from a clone

2008-12-12T06:54:43Z

Dearest Chazley,

The Clone and I have seen to an open bar at the reception! All paid for. Hired up the tender. No, no, thanks isn't necessary! Really, it was a pleasure. Anyhoodles, we'll see ya at the rehearsal dinner and then the at the attaching of ye olde balle and chayn.

-Both of 'em

Days off?

2008-12-10T21:44:35Z

“I like the new place,” Trudes says, shoving a box to the back of the shelf. “Don’t get me wrong, Whicheveryouare, and it’s loads of fun to prank the knickers off all them people, but I don’t like this whole being in charge thing.”

I hand her another box from the crate I got in me arms. “May be so,” I muse, “but you’re the best qualified. I mean, you been with us a year and a half. Pranked the clone and me numerous times. And we’re not gonna bring in some green bean off the street knows nuthin’ ‘bout how we work, tell ‘im to run our Maison d’Mischief.”

Trudes slides the last one back on the shelf and heads for the next display. “I’ll manage your ruddy Maison,” she says lightly, “since you’re payin’ me enough for it, but soon as there’s somebody else as comes along you think could do it better, don’t think there’ll be any hard feelins if you take my position away and just have me on regular prank duty.”

“’Course you know, soon as you’re not a manager anymore, you don’t get manager pay or benefits.”

“Being a manager’s far too much responsibility than I fancy,” she sniffs. “You know, I was a lot more agreeable before I started working here and had to run the whole place every time you and that other one of you decided to go play poker with the local wildlife.”

“Exactly. Who better to run our Maison? You can put up with us, you can put up with anybody!” I grin.

She gives me a level glare. “Very ha.”

“Besides, look how zen you are behind them controls. You’ve spooked many the regular customers. Fair gave Iva a stroke, you did!”

“Keep me behind the controls, but I don’t wanna run the place. You think I like having to run up the stairs and lecture Packlesby for activating the rubber floor a second too late? No! Get somebody else to play Maison Mum.”

“Yeah, alright, I’ll keep my eye out, but don’t hold your breath it’s gonna happen anytime soon. We need somebody competent in there. We need somebody as got a wicked sense o’ humour, can put up with dung and dish it out, somebody can take control when control’s needed. Now you’re the person as fits the bill, I’m sorry to say, and we’re right pleased you’re takin’ acre o’ the place ‘til we find you a replacement.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbles, raisin’ on ‘er tiptoes to set a package on a high shelf. “If I didn’t do it, Merlin knows it wouldn’t get done. And you pay well enough besides.”

“That’s the spirit!”

I hear the door open behind us and Trudes glances back and then turns to me. "Another twin. Don't know which. Why identical? Why me? Honestly."

“Because you know,” I say gravely, “that it is our duty to torment poor Trudes. Hello Itentical Twin, how goes the bookkeepingorotherwise?”

"Fantastic," the Patil twin drawls coming up to us. "I just got done with deliveries, and here," She hands me an envelope. "And I have to say, I know entirely too much about our Professors now." She pauses. "Especially Flitwick."

I laugh. “Aww Flitty, one of our best customers! Bet whichever of you is blue will never be the same, knowin’ what you do about your old Head o’ House.”

"Apparently he's also quite fond of the Prank House too. He said that it's all the talk among the Professors, except for a certain one that sees no humor in anything. I think you can guess who he is." As Trudes starts to reach down for the box, a flick of the Patil wand and it's in Trudes’ hands, opened for her. "Busy here I take it?"

A flick of Trudes’ wand, and Patil’s robe-front resembles a pirate shirt, poofiness and all. “Holiday season,” she says. “We got a lull, so this one here” (she jabs her thumb in my direction) “was helping me restock. Give us a hand? Or do you want to take him off mine?”

"Mind if I take him off your hands?" She suggests. "I have to overwhelm him with bits of information and you'll get help in the form of my sister in about two minutes. Tops."

I feel Trudes spin me around and then shove me toward Patil. “Take him. I’ll get more done when he’s gone.”

I look over my shoulder and pout. “Aww, Trudes, I’m hurt.”

She smirks at me. “You reap what you sow, Oh Gardener of Trouble.”

"Poor man," Patil mutters, as I get steered to the back office. Again the door opens and Patil glances back. "Hey, Pad?"

"Books are done," she returns.

"Knew that, sis. Trudes needs help."

"No, I need my sanity returned," Trudes counters.

"Pretty much the same with everyone," Patil retorts.

“Well that’s true,” she agrees. “If they don’t come pre-nutters, the twins install it as you go. Go on, I’ll just fetch Thack if you want to be identical together. For the life of me, I don’t get it.”

“You should take home a Grow-A-Clone,” I say. “And Thack’s got about eight more crates to charm.”

“Well I’m not asking that cauldron-exterminator,” Trudes grouses.

“Be nice,” I say. “Honest, it’s one thing to insult in good humour, but when you mean it like that…”

“Yeah Boss, I’ll keep a lid on it if she will.”

“I’ll talk with Pip. Go on, I’ll be out in a mo, right?”

She turns and waves. “Take your time. Miles and Nitty are out there.”

I nod and we go into the office. As the door closes, Patil turns to me. "Speaking of the books, Padma and I actually went over some of the past ones and straightened them out, so now everything balances out. At one point it looked like you were actually losing profit cause some numbers were all wonky but Padma got that straightened out. But everything up to now is good. Has Padma asked you about needing the nineteenth off for her dance?" Patil, obviously Parvati, pauses again. "Well make that both of us, as I would like to be there to see her dance."

“Nope, hasn’t quite yet,” I say, nodding to Padma in greeting. “Were they, now? Hm, s’pose that musta been over the summer. Hmm…nineteenth, you said? Well that’d be a Friday, wouldn’t it?”

Padma nods briefly back before going over to help Trudes. "It would be," Parvati admits. "She can't control the days the performances are. But if it helps, I'll stay as late as I can on Friday, and come in early on Saturday. But she really needs that day off."

I tilt my head back, looking up at the ceiling. “Performance, eh? Hmm…thems things can be unavoidable, true enough. Think she mentioned something about dance when she was negotiatin’ days off. Well, Friday’s one o’ the busy days, got the Maison open that day, too, but the Hogwarts orders won’t need to get done at least. School out ‘n all.

“Hmm…tell ya what, we’ll call it a trade,” I say. “See, the clone and I need the next day off, and we need all the hands we can get in the store. So we’ll switch some days around that week, arrange it so’s you get your day off, both o’ you, Pip, Thack, Nitty, and Miles all work that day. Trudes over at the Maison, so Pip doesn’t drive ‘er more nutters she claims she is. The clone and I work Friday with the crew. You and your clone work the next day. But we’ll need one o’ you to open the store. Get you a key. Think that’d work?”

"I can open the store," Parvati answers. "And it's fine with me, and I'm sure it'll be fine with Pad. Just as long as Padma can have her night, that's all that matters." She grins. "Dancing is pretty much her addiction, like acting is for me."

“We all need our vices,” I muse. “Acting, dancing, pranking…if you can make money off it, so much the better.” I pat her shoulder. “You got your day off, both of you. Bring a camcorder and embarrass the jabeebers out of ‘er for us, eh?”

Parvati laughs. "I'll do that." She goes quiet. "Now this might be a bit harder. I was invited to a wedding in January. My boyfriend's brothers. It's in early January and Connor has to be there a day or so before the wedding and he also wants to show me around Chicago after it, so I think I need about a week off."

“Erm…early January…might be able to do that,” I mumble, thinking. Early January’s when the childerlings all go back to Hogwarts. Shop won’t be as busy, as all the money went to Christmas shopping and the kids’ll be gone. There’ll be Christmas money to use at Hogwarts to order, but usually it’s pretty slow at first. Same goes for the Maison. “Let me know the dates. I’ll check it against schedules and previously submitted time-off dates.”

"We have to leave on the sixth, and we'll be back on the fourteenth."

I lean against a wall and tap my lips with my wand, thinking. Then I reach over to the desk and grab up a scrap of parchment, writing the dates down. “Is that Pad, too?”

She shakes her head. "Padma's not going. I tried to get her to come, but couldn't."

Twins without twins. If they’re anything like Fredgie and me, it’s gotta be tough, a week away. It was a nightmare, that month I had to stay in California to help Buttercup, even with the distraction of the local Orient Alley lovely. Then again, maybe it’s just harder on one than the other.

“Right, noted,” I say, scribbling on the parchment.

"Going to be odd," she mutters, "We haven't been seperated since the funerals... except when Padma had to come here about something when we were living in India...Got back in time just for our birthday."

“Something a non-twin wouldn’t get,” I say, nodding. “Pad’s prob’ly tryin’ to give you space to be with your snuggly.”

"Interesting way of putting it," Parvati says dryly. "There's something else I think should be mentioned and it has nothing to do with days off or the like. You remember me and Padma mentioning something about our parent's company when we came here for the interview? "

“Sorta.”

"We were supposed to inherit after our parents died," There's hitch in her words, but she quickly goes over it, as if ignoring it was there. "But complications rose up and long story short, we didn't. We've been trying the past couple years to get it back, and we're close to doing it. What I'm saying is, Padma and I are grateful that you two were willing to hire us, but I'm also stating we're not going to be permanent like I think Trudes and the others are. But we're not just going to up and leave when we get Patil Antiquities back, not without making sure you have replacements for us."

I’m quiet for a mo, taking all this in. I’ll need to talk to Fredgie about this, he’ll need to know we need to start lookin’ for a new bookkeeper. Things’ve been runnin’ so much more smoothly since the Patils came to work for us, the books get done and we can both lock ourselves into the basement to come up with new products. We were able to start up our prank house.

“You got a timeframe for us?” I ask. “Any clue? And any recommendations for where we should start lookin’ for replacements? Don’t suppose you clones have got clones lyin’ around anywheres.”

"Timeframe? Some things are still up in the air. But within the next few months. And we still keep in touch with the board members of Antiquities, so they can probably help us find replacements. We'll do the finding George. We won't leave you two in a lurch. Padma and I were taught better than that when it comes to business. I thought it would be best to let you know now, instead of just dropping it on you without any warning."

“Always take care of your associates,” I grin. “And they’ll take care of you. A rule o’ business some people just don’t see the value in.”

"And something that should be taught to certain others," Parvati says in a light tone, but I hear the bitterness. But it's gone as soon as she smiles. "And tell you what, once Padma and I get the company back, I'll send you a crate of Mango's, one of the exports that Patil's deals in. I doubt you'll be interested in Antiques."

“Actually,” I laugh, “I love ‘em! You should see some o’ the vintage stuff I got up in the chez. Got one o’ the original joy-buzzers, I do. And First Edition Mickey comics.”

"Ah, I mean vases, furnitures, desks, pottery." Parvati corrects.

“Ah, well okay, mebbe not, then.”

"Maybe not. I'm going to go help Trudes and my sister out. And I'm glad your not freaking out over this. Anyone else, probably would."

“You gave us fair warning,” I point out. “And you’re not leavin’ us high and dry. Will be a shame to lose the novelty of another pair of identicals, but that’s just something you learn to accept. Just because somebody starts workin’ for ya, doesn’t mean they’re gonna work for ya forever.”

"I'll make sure Padma and I will do our best to find another set of twins," Parvati assures me as she opens the door and then we hear a yelp and a loud thump. Parvati bends halfway out. "Pad?"

"We're fine," Padma calls out. "Trudes accidentally stocked too high!"

"Reggie's fault!" Trude's calls out. "Nothing broken though. Bones or merchandise."

I see a kneazley streak zoom past us into the backroom. “Nothing broken, nothing to worry about. Oi, look out, here comes a mob.”

"Padma and I can straighten it out, you and Trudes can take on the mob."

I clap Trudes on the back. “Well, come on then, Trudes! Let’s go sort this out.”

“Oh great,” Trudes grumbles, but I can see the smirk on ‘er face.

The door opens and the brief moment of calm we had is over as the store is crowded and the Patil's disappear into the back and our day goes back to the holiday norm.

Bogies, barf, and bloke-chats

2008-12-08T06:00:14Z

“Alright, the key to great snot is…can ya guess?” I ask from my spot at the cupboard.

Doxie’s been laid up this weekend, so to keep the lafeteria producing, I decided to call in a helper in the form of Aley.

Aley frowns, and I catch a nose twitch. "I don't need to," he says solemnly, but there's that glint in his eyes.

I snort. “I meant for the hambogies. Ya got your blended relish, and it’s fine as is, I s’pose, but you’ll notice it’s a bit too green. Have ya ever seen actual green snot?”

Aley shakes his head.

“Right. And we wanna make this glop look as realistic as possible. So…what colour do we gotta turn it to look like real snot?”

"A pale yellow, or just yellow with some food colouring."

I put my finger to the side of my nose and wink. “True, but there’s something we could add would get it that nice, lovely yellow colour, maybe a little brown with some chunks, and it’ll give it that nice, salty bogey taste.”

"Like what?" Aley asks a bit tentatively.

I reach into the cupboard and fetch down a jar. “Marmite,” I say, handing ‘im the jar. “Yellow-brown, salty as anything! And the perfect addition to our relish snot. Just a spoon in the blender, and just a few pulses so’s it only mixes in part-ways. Gotta give it a good texture too, ya know.”

"Mischa uses Marmite when she makes pizza. You should try her pizza," Aley pauses. "That is if there is any left over after Mother gets her share."

I think of Iva eating a Marmite sandwich and can’t help but laugh. The reaction she has to food is definitely not any sorta reaction one would think would come from Marmite. “I’ll have to make sure I send ya home with a few hambogies and some macaroni and sneeze. You wanna learn barfaits next?” I say, stepping up to the griller and flippin’ the beef patty.

Aley nods and his eyes land on the grill. "I can do that while you get what you need for them," he suggests. He was a bit shy about it all when we first started, but started to come out of his shell a bit more.

“Sure. I’ll line the buns and veg up for ya, so’z you can just plop ‘em on down once you’ve got ‘em grilled up.” I lay out a long line o’ fixins and start for the Just Desserts cupboard. “So, how ya like cookin’ for the Maison? Think you’re gonna make your mum some o’ this stuff at home?”

"It's fun. A break from lessons. And if Mischa lets me. She usually just has me help her."

“Maybe she’d like to learn some new recipes,” I grin. “But they’re secret recipes, right? No givin’ ‘em out ‘cept to your cook. We got a patent on ‘em.”

Aley nods as he places the beef patties on the buns and starts with the vegs. "Patent.. that means only you and Fred can make it right? Anyone else does and they get in trouble?"

“Somethin’ like that,” I nod. “It means that we invented ‘em, and if anybody wants to use the recipe, they gotta get permission from us. And anybody we let use the recipe for market production, we get some of what they make from it.”

"Done with the hambogies. What's next?"

“Next is barfaits,” I say, handing ‘im the chocolate sauce, caramel sauce, mint sauce, and marshmallow sauce. “You can guess what we’re gonna make the sauces look like.”

Aley lets out a snort and a laugh and I grin, happy to bring out the kid in the kid, so to speak.

“Now the great thing about barf,” I say, gettin’ out the nuts and dried fruits, and candy corns, “is that there’s all different kinds! So with barfaits it’s perfect, since regular parfaits are all about layers. And the funnest part is mixin’ ‘em all together, seein’ what looks the grossest, and puttin’ in some fruits and nuts to make it really chunky and gross-lookin!”

Aley's laughing throughout it all, and nearly drops the bottle of chocolate sauce, but catches it easily enough. "Oops," he murmurs, setting it down on the counter with the other stuff.

I chuckle and get out a small bowl. Pour a little chocolate sauce in, a little mint sauce, and a tiny bit o’ marshmallow. Then I drop in some candy corns and stir. Makes quite a gross lookin’ pale greenish brown. “Mmm…” I say, holding out the chunky vomit out to Aley.

He takes it without hesitation and makes mmm noises as well. "Good... can I make some myself and then let you try them?"

“Sure! I’d love to see what sorta disgusting concoction you come up with.” I grin. “Ya know, this sorta reminds me of what Fred and me used to do in the Great Hall at Hogwarts. Used to put a bit o’ this with a bit o’ that, stir it all up, see who could make the girls next to us move first.”

"Why?" He asks as he starts lining some things up and then after a moment he starts mixing things together. An occasional pause before he takes each item but he's doing pretty well.

I laugh. “Just one o’ those things, I guess.” Prob’ly for Fred it was the same reason I aggravated Nervy as much as I did. “When you go off to school, maybe you’ll understand a little better.”

"Probably," Aley mutters as he mixes the barfaits.

I get out a parfait glass, drop a scoop of ice cream in, and pour some sauce from one of the bowls on top. “You’ll be headin’ off to school next year, eh?”

"Uh huh. Same with Kiros. He knows he's going to Durmstrang and hopes I can go there too." He pours some of the mixtures he made into the glass and then I hand him a couple more, and he pours more into them.

“Are you?” I ask, scoopin’ some more ice cream on top of the bottom layer of sauce. “Hopin’, I mean. Or do you know where you’re gonna go, already?”

He shrugs. "Most likely Durmstrang. Both my parents went there, and I'm sure Mom would prefer me going there and I want to be with Kiros, so... George, try the banana and mango one.. I put almonds in it. Doesn't taste too weird does it?"

I take a taste and ponder for a sec. “Hmm…dunno, it works alright, I think. Should go next to the sherbet scoop, I’m thinking.” Then I look at ‘im. “What’d your pick be?”

"I don't have one," he says and I recognize him trying to evade the subject again. "Just going to school and staying in one place for a few months is what I want." He winces then and turns his attention right back to the barfaits.

“Well, I can understand that,” I say, dropping another scoop on top of the newest layer of sauces. “Ya know…if there’s somethin’ you wanted to say but didn’t want your mum to know, just let me know, right? Not good to keep things bottled up.” And I should know, I add to myself.

"I think she knows, which is why she hasn't been taking me with her to Tokyo or Moscow lately... I haven't been there except the four days I was with my da.. Kirill. Pass the chocolate sauce."

“Is it better?” I ask. “Stayin’ put while she does her business? Bet ya miss ‘er.”

He nods squirting the chocolate sauce in a new concoction. "But she's never gone long. Are we making anything else?"

“We could make another batch o’ macaroni,” I suggest.

"Ever thought about colouring the cheese sauce?" Aley asks as he finished up the last barfait. "Make it different kinds of mac and sneeze?"

“Hmm…not really,” I ponder. “Could bring it up with the clone.”

"Okay. Finished."

“Excellent, let’s have a look.” We lower down so’s we’re eyelevel with the barfaits. “They look positively disgusting,” I congratulate. “Let’s put a candy-corn on top of each and stick ‘em in the ice box, eh?”

Aley nods and I hand him the bowl of candy corns. We do that and then carefully put the barfaits in the ice box. When done, we quickly clean up.

The sneeze is almost gone, so Aley and I right-quick start a new batch. As Aley starts the water and gets out the cheese (cheddar and blue-cheese), I wonder what it is he wasn’t sayin’ about schools that I think he wanted to say but didn’t wanna make a fuss about.

Waffles with Pip

2008-11-22T08:28:53Z

Never been in Pip’s neighbourhood. When she said Whitechapel, I pictured it quite a bit seedier. Dunno, that burly bloke what looks about as friendly as a rugby tussle in a maelstrom, standin’ out front ‘er place makes me feel right at home!

Said bloke gives me the glare-down as I open up the door.

“Evenin’ gent,” I greet ‘im.

He mutters something about how I’m not the usual bloke and shuffles away from the door.

“Predictability’s overrated,” I tell ‘im and head on up to Pip’s door.

I bang on her door a few times before I can hear somebody shufflin’ toward it. I bang a little harder and hear the security charm bein’ undone.

“What? Who is it? Oh!” Pip blinks up at me. “It’s you. What are you doing here, boss?”

“Harassin’ the locals,” I reply. “Come on.”

“Come on what?” she asks, yawning. “I was just dozing off in front of the telly.”

“Come out. Hang out. Let’s paint the town chartreuse!”

“I do like chartreuse,” she admits, “but I’m in my jimmies. Bunny slippers and all that. Let me get dressed, huh?”

I take a quick look-over. True enough, she’s got this ginormous blue sweatshirt on over some garish pink and green plaid pajama bottoms. All topped off by the infamous bunny slippers.

“So?” I say. “Covers ya up just the same.”

“Yeah, but…” she starts and then shrugs. “Okay, where are we going?”

“Dunno. Whaddya got a hankerin’ for?”

She grins. “I know a great place that’s open all night. Round Knockturn—they make great waffles.”

“Waffles at midnight sounds proper,” I grin. “Lead the way, Pip.”

She turns a speculative eye on me suddenly. “Hey,” she says sharply. “If I have to go out in PJs, so do you. So the way I see it, you’ve got two choices. One, you can transfigure your clothes into pajamas or two, you can borrow mine. Your choice…uh…George?” she tilts her head to the side. “I think?”

“What have ya got?” I ask.

“Um, black, purple plaid, and orange,” she ticks off on her hand.

“Purple,” I say. “Goes best with me firey locks.”

“Yeah,” she agrees with a wink. “A total match. So what’s the occasion? I mean not everyday I’m dragged out to have waffles by a red-headed twinster. What gives?”

“Just for the halibut,” I shrug.

“Yeah right,” she says, going into the next room and coming out with a pair of purple bottoms. “Here ya go.”

“Wot, just the trousers?” I ask. “Not that I’m ashamed o’ me manly chest, but you know what they say; ‘No shoes, no shirt, no service.’”

She giggles and tosses ‘em to me. “You can keep what shirt you’ve got on. Unless you want my bathrobe with rubber ducks on it..”

“Quite like that idea, actually,” I muse. “Now, if I have me niffler slippers with me, I’d be all set!”

“Next time,” she says, handing me the robe. “Help yourself. Loo’s that way, if Iva would mind me seeing you in your unmentionables.”

I shrug and head on down to ‘er loo. I’m not the least bit surprised to see a few cauldrons set about.

“Thought you were gonna hide your cauldrons,” I should out as I change trousers.

“Well I was,” she says from just outside the door, “but then…I decided that it would be weirder if I got rid of them. Y’know. Anyway, Kevin thinks I tie-dye clothes in them, so it’s okay.”

“Good thing you lived in Berkley for a few years, all I can say. Right! Trousered up! Let’s go.”

She salutes sharply, “Righto! Follow my lead.”

We shuffle out into the hallway, and she locks up behind us. Down the stairs we go, and out the door. Mountain of a man is still hanging around outside, and gives me a rather menacing look.

“What’s with the getup?” he rumbles.

“Oh, hey Brad!” Pip says brightly, “We’re going out for midnight waffles in our pajamas. Cool huh?” then she gets this stern look on her face, and puts her hands on her hips, “Brad, did you finish your paper for class tomorrow?”

Hugeness sort of shuffles his feet and, Merlin above, he actually looks guilty.

“I done half of it,” he mutters.

“Well, you march your arse right back home and do the other half!” Pip scolds, shaking her finger, “Go on now! Do you think half is good enough? Forget it! Go one, get to it!”

The guy sort of protests, but after a glare from Pip, wishes her a good night and trundles away.

“Proper, Pip!” I congratulate her.

She shrugs, taking my hand and tugging me off down the street, “I’m sorta the neighborhood mom, y’know. C’mon, boss. You wanna Apparate, or walk?”

“Apparate works for me.”

“Coolness.” She winks and drags me into a nearby alley. She giggles, “Jeez, my neighbors are going to think I’m banging some red-headed guy in an alley. Not a reputation I need.”

“Aww, they’d just be jealous is all.”

“Yeah, jealous of me.” she says, “Hold on, yeah? I can’t remember the coordinates.”

“You can’t? So we gonna go apparatin’ around ‘til we find the right ones?”

“Aww, shut it.” She grouses, “I know how to get there. I just couldn’t tell you how to get there. Hold on.”

“Just so long as you know we’re goin’.”

She sticks her tongue out- standard response- and clamps on to me and we pop away.

When we arrive, the place is marginally hoppin’. People comin’ off work, people gettin’ ready for it. Loads of ‘em gots pale skin. Must be vamps. “Oi, Pip, what gives? This place is practically undead!”

“Funny man.” She giggles, “It’s open all night, and the food is great! Max sure knows how to cook!”

“Sure hope so. I’m starved! After you, Pippin McDuffle.”

“Sure thing Georgie!” she winks, “I’ve given up trying to decide if you are or not, so you’re George tonight, kay?”

“Well, as the other of us is off for the weekend with a witch younger’n you, I’d say it’s a safe bet I’m who you s’pose I am.”

“Good.” She says, waving cheerily at several of the vamp waitresses and plunkin down into a booth, “I happen to be very fond of George. Hey Valerie!”

A young (I guess) blonde waitress comes over, smiling, “Evening Marley! The usual?”

“Naw,” Pip grins, “We’re having waffles! Right boss?”

“You betcha!”

“Waffles it is,” Valerie smiles, fangs showing a little, “I’ll tell Max you’re here. Anything else I can get you?”

“Just milk for me.” Pip says, “George?”

“Milk’s good,” I agree. “Large, so I can grow up big ‘n strong.”

The vamp laughs and heads off to the kitchen with our order. Pip smiles at me suddenly, biting her lip a little.

“So what’s bugging you?” she asks.

I look over at ‘er. “Mm?”

“I said, what’s bugging you so much that you decided to make the long journey to Whitechapel to have a pajama party?”

“Mmm…Saturday night. Empty house.”

She sighs, rubbing her eyes, “Y’know, one of these days it would be great if you actually answered me. I’m just trying to be your friend.”

I raise my eyebrows. Then sigh, too. “Pip…”

“Look, I’m sorry if you don’t want me to say anything,” she continues, “but I’m not going to just sit here and have you be all evasive. Not when something’s wrong, and not when I’m trying to make you feel better. That’s what friends do, y’know.”

I take a packet o’ sugar from the little sugar caddy and nudge it around the table. “Only ever really talk to Fred,” I tell ‘er. “Nothin’ against you.”

“Well, obviously you haven’t talked to Fred, cause it’s still bothering you.” she says, as Valerie the vamp brings us our milk. Pip smiles and thanks her, and then goes quiet.

“Well…you’d be right about that,” I say, starin’ into my milk.

She sighs, “Okay, you don’t have to say anything. I won’t force you to. I just wish you would. I mean, obviously you like me enough to set me up on a date with your little brother, so I must be doing something right.”

“Yeah, you’ll have to tell me how that went,” I remind her.

“What makes you think I’m going to give you details?” she smiles coyly.

“Because you owe us!”

“I owe you nothing,” she protests, “I brought you porn!”

I’m surprised bow how many people don’t turn around at her exclamation.

“Okay, point,” I say, pickin’ up my milk and takin’ a swig.

“Yeah.” She says, then furrows her brow, “But…I don’t mind saying that brother is….surprising.”

I laugh. “There’s a word for Ron. Surprising. And I’ll just leave that to my imagination.”

“Not in a bad way,” she says quickly, “He’s just… not like a lot of other guys.”

“Glad to hear it.”

She looks at me, all hard-like.

“Ok,” she says slowly, “so you don’t want to fish for details about your ickle brother’s hot date. You must be troubled.”

“Oi! Was just protectin’ the…surprisingness, I was!”

“Please.” She huffs, “You must think I was born yesterday. You haven’t even asked if we….y’know. I thought for sure I’d have to fend you both off with a stick come Monday.”

“I’m waiting to attack with Fred,” I say, crossing my arms.

“Well, that’s fab.” She says grumpily, then sighs, “I’m sorry I’m being all bitchy tonight. I’m kind of strung out about this Ron thing, and I think I’m sort of taking it out on you. I still wish you’d tell me what’s bothering you, but I’m being more pushy than usual. Sorry.”

“Why should you be sorry?” I ask. “I have a natural effect on people that make ‘em wanna throttle me.”

“That’s certain,” she chuckles, “but usually I’m pretty immune.”

That thought’s interrupted by the waitress bringing our waffles over. We tuck in right away, and for a minute there’s just chewing. Then Pip swallows and says, “So, how are we gonna paint the town chartreuse? Any plans?”

“Didn’t really have anything on my mind,” I shrug.

“Well then, how’s about this,” she leans forward all conspiratorially, “We get sundae stuff from a convenience store, rent a bunch of awful horror flicks, and get comatose on sugar and fake blood.”

“Plan Nine,” I say.

“Yeah, Plan Nine,” she rolls her eyes, “Do you guys think of everything?”

“Just about. How’s about I make ya a barfait?”

She blinks for a moment, “I’m sorry, I thought you just said ‘barfait’. Are my ears that bad?”

“Yes, they’re that bad, because I did.”

“Oh.” She says, “Yeah, okay, whatever that is, I’m game. My place or yours, sir?”

“Hmm…there’s less hazard in my place, what with them bubblin’ cauldrons about in yours, so are we feeling reckless or safe tonight?”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” she shrugs, “but my place is a mess. Fred won’t mind if we use your private twinny space for our Marathon of Horror?”

“Prob’ly wouldn’t if ‘e were home,” I reply. “But he’s out.”

“Oh,” she quirks an eyebrow at me, “where’s he at?”

“Off for a weekend away,” I say.

“Oh, cool.” She smiles, “That must be nice. Well, looks like we got the place to ourselves.” She bats her eyes at me, “I promise to behave, boss. Cross my heart.”

Must be nice? It’s a nightmare.

“That we do. And if you behave, I’ll be disappointed.”

She laughs, and points her fork at me, “Okay, you got it. I’ll be on my worst behaviour. Every mother’s worst nightmare of the witch her son brings home. How’s that?”

“Brill!” I cheer. “How’s about Evil Dead, eh? Ay-shlee…Ay-shlee…”

“Let me out now!” she parodies, “Ashley, it’s your sister! I’m alright now!”

I snort. “Don’t let ‘er out. Ain’t ya ever seen a horror? Eh? Oi, I tell ya, people in horror films are idiots. It’s no wonder they all bite it.”

“No joke,” she giggles, “and what’s with all the girls falling over three thousand times when they’re trying to run away?”

“Well, gotta make the audience feel smart somehow, eh?”

“Yeah, well, that’ll do it. How ‘bout Dawn of the Dead, too?”

“Don’t know as I got that one, but Plan 9 is a def.”

“I’ve got it.” She snaps her fingers, “We can pop over to my place first and grab it.”

“And when we get to Chez Clone, I’m slippin’ into my nifflers.”

“Yeah!” she enthuses, then looks puzzled, “Wait, what?”

“Couple o’ nifflers Fred and I had stuffed,” I say and then burst out laughing at the look of horror on ‘er face. “They’re just slippers, Pip.”

“Oh, right.” She says, wiping imaginary sweat off her brow, “Slippers, yeah.” Then she grins, “Aww, how cute! Niffler slippers- neat!”

“That they are.”

“So, what do we need to get before we go get the movie from my flat?” she asks, pulling out a pen and tugging a napkin infront of her, “Ice cream? Popcorn? Sundry other goods?”

“I’m makin’ barfaits, poopcorn, and lemonade.” Movie nights. I want movie nights with Fredgie. I shake myself. Good on him. He’s got a weekend away. I’m happy for ‘im. Don’t be a mopey bastard, George.

She gives me this weird look, “Yeah, okay. I’m not going to ask about the weird food. Oh, hang on, Trudes mentioned something like that.” She wrinkles her nose, looking disgusted, “God. Trudes. Major buzzkill.”

“Yeah, noticed you two wanted to gnaw on each others larynxes. What’s up with that?”

She sighs, “Well, I don’t know, exactly. It may or may not have something to do with an alleged incident in fourth year.”

I raise my eyebrow. “Just what is said incident? You got me all curious-like?” Hmm, could this be a breach of employer-employee morale? Let’s just call it getting’ all the facts to employee animosity.

“Well, Trudes and I had Potions together- y’know, like Gryffindor had Potions with Slytherin? Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had it together, too. So one day we’re in class, and we got partnered together…well, she was annoying the hell out of me. I mean, she fucking put my hair in the ink, and tripped me and poked me and…jeez, it was so annoying. So I tossed a little something in the cauldron and went to the loo. By the time I came back, her face and hair and robes were this horrid puke green colour, and Snape had given her detention for like, two weeks.” She shrugs, “and ever since then, she’s hated my guts.”

Oi, sounds like Trudes had it bad for Pip! Either that, or she just forgot her quill. “Well, she was a budding prankster, even from early one. She just needed our expert guidance, y’see. So it was just annoying, as opposed to absolutely brill.”

“I guess,” she shrugs, “I just got so fed up. I mean, it would be one thing if it was just that one day that she was doing it. But it was every class! And not just Potions! I mean, every class! Seriously, I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

I laugh, patting her shoulder. “Oh Pip.”

“Oh, me.” she smiles, “What d’you mean, ‘ohPip’? Am I missing something?”

I shrug. “Just sayin’! Now, you done with your waffles so’s we can go regurgitate ‘em watchin’ awful horror?”

“You bet!” she grins, motioning the vamp with the check, “My treat, boss!”

“Much obliged,” I say. “I got next.”

“Sure, sure.” She says, slapping down the galleons and smiling at the waitress. “Back to mine, then?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“C’mon, mate.” She smiles, tugging me up outta my chair, “Let’s go! Ashley and Cheryl await!”

“Yy-ashley!” I screech.

She doubles up laughin’, causin’ the shady Knockturn characters to give us the eye.

“Ready?” she asks, linking arms with me.

We step up to the door and I stop. “Let me oht noo!”

She laughs and then scrunches up her face as we apparate back to her flat. As soon as we’re inside, she heads over to the telly and starts rifling around for the movie.

“Actually, since we’re already here,” I say, “we could just stick around here. I figure I could scrounge up the fixin’s for somethin’ absolutely disgustin’ lookin’. Like make some egg pusstard.”

She looks horrified, “Oh, jesus, seriously? Okay, well, help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” I say, rubbing my hands and stepping into the…erm…looks like arson in here.

“Do you cook with a blow-torch?” I call out.

“Sometimes,” she calls from the next room, “Help yourself to drinks too.”

I open up the ice box and look in. Beer. Beer. Butterbeer. Beer. Butter. Beer. More beer.”

“You got any beer?” I call.

“Oh, shit, am I out already?” she says, coming in looking annoyed, “I swear, that stuff drinks itself.”

“Cannibals,” I note, taking out a box of juice.

“You said it….Hey!” she says, peering into the fridge, “There’s plenty of beer in here. You had me worried.” She pulls a bottle out and reaches for a bottle opener on the counter, pops the top off and takes a big swig.

“That’s the oldest tree in Pottersville,” I say, punching the straw into the box. “I mean…Bedford Falls.”

“No, you mean Pottersville.” She grins, “Don’t you know where you live?”

“Hot dog!”

She laughs, and lights the burner, “I wish I had a million dollars!”

“Sorry, you’re not getting a raise.”

She pokes me a couple times, “Yeah yeah. Aren’t you supposed to be grossing me out with your culinary disgustingness?”

“Yes. Eggs. Sugar. Milk. And it’s time to make some puss!”

A firm education in fun

2008-11-13T06:11:24Z

After the noon rush, it’s settled down at the Maison. Only the few skivers from work showin’ up and takin’ their tours, but there’s a lot of lulls. Hopefully by the weekend, it’ll pick up some, even if they only come for our fairly disgusting fare.

I stretch up and look around the empty lobby. The swamp replica is blurping lazily where it sits, the portraits of three of the marauders (just little silhouettes of a stag shape, a dog shape, and a wolf shape) have stolen into other portraits we put up nearby and grabbed some pencils to write nasty messages out of boredom. Ah, wizarding portraits, gotta love ‘em.

Fredgie’s gone back to the back room to look over a few order parchments, and I’ve taken solo post at the front door to welcome any and all skiving or primary pranksters.

To my right I got the sense of someone nearby and a glance tells me that I'll enjoy this visit. I grin as I recognize Iva AND Aleksey, Iva laid down with a few shopping bags from the looks of it as Aley sees me at the door.

"Hi George," he greets me. Then it looks like he hesitates. "George right?

“You got it, kiddo!” I say, ruffling his hair. “Takin’ your mum shopping?”

Aley grins. "Uh huh. I got her to get me a lot of stuff."

"Because you know all you have to do is smile and say please and I'll get it for you," Iva says dryly joining us. "Hit a slow moment?"

“More like the slow moment hit us,” I tell ‘er. “People need to practice skiving more. The Maison’s young yet. People’ll catch on. What’re you two doin’ in town ‘sides you charming the money outta your mum’s purse?”

"I got Mother to take a day off," he looks proud of that fact. "She's too busy sometimes." Iva mock scowls at her son, and he just shrugs. "You are," he says pointedly and then turns back to me. "And Mother mentioned you opening a prank house. I wanted to see."

“Well good on you, mate, for gettin’ her out. Bet all you had to do was smile and say please, eh?” I ask, then grin. “And ‘cause you did such a good job of it, it’s on the house. I’ll even take ya through myself. Trudes,” I call over to our surly saleswitch. “Witch the lobby, would ya?”

She waves from her spot behind the podium. “Go have fun,” she says.

Iva blinks at what Trudes says and she turns to me. "That really Trudes or does she have a twin as well?" She asks in a low voice.

“Spooky, innit?” I ask, moving toward the door. “Dunno, think havin’ her on slime-trap-door-deployer duty’s quenched ‘er thirst for bloody idiots. One weekend workin’ here, she was practically purring.”

Ivanka just shakes her head, and Trudes, in another spooky gesture, has Ivanka put her many bags with her so nothing happens to them. Iva looks grateful and startled none the less and when she returns to me; "I'm not sure how to take her like this," she says sounding amused by Trude's damn near personality switch.

"What's first?" Aley asks, speaking up.

“It’s not really a ‘what’s first,’” I tell ‘im. “Ya just go on through the house. You ready?”

He nods, and the way he's shifting on his feet, he's crackling with anticipation. Kid may be quiet, but he seems to be coming out of his shell.

“Would you do us the honour of leading our party?” I ask, opening the door to the stairway.

"Okay," he agrees and bounds up to the door. He halts to a stop though, glances back at us, and then shakes whatever hesitation he had and goes past the door.

He is greeted, most spectacularly, by a bucket of water landing on ‘is head. Not the most elaborate of pranks, but never discount the simple classics just ‘cause they’re that.

Aley shakes his head, and brushes his wet hair back with his hand.

"Least it wasn't a bucket of rotten eggs," Iva mutters, clearly thinking a prank that must have been pulled on her once.

"Come on, Mother," Aley grabs his Mum's hand and pulls her through the door, probably expecting the same thing to happen, but it doesn't as it has to be reset. "Ah, next time." He grins.

"Next time."

“Or maybe not!” I say with a laugh. “You never know what’s gonna happen in here.” I follow them into the room, a simple, innocent looking study complete with desk and parchment rack and a bunch of other goodies. There’s a plate of treats set out. Some are gag treats and some are just plain regular ones.