Chapter Text
Mr. George Weasley,
After careful consideration and deliberation, I am pleased to offer you a position as my apprentice in the upcoming school year. The position is an arduous and tiring one, but I am sure you understand the benefits it could provide in the future. Your apprenticeship contract and badge have been sent along with this letter, for you to peruse and familiarise yourself with at your convenience.
Should you find yourself with further questions, do not hesitate to send them my way. I hope you will embrace this opportunity and look forward to discussing the terms of your contract soon.
Cordially,
Professor Severus Snape
Potions Master
***
“I can feel you reading over my shoulder, Gred,” George rolled his eyes when his brother only shrugged, the movement causing Fred’s chin to graze against the top of his head. “At least have the decency to tell me what you think of… this, if you’re going to hover no matter what I say.”
“It’s an interesting offer,” Fred said casually.
George gently pushed his brother away as he spun around, meeting Fred’s serious gaze. His eyes were still on the letter, but George knew better than to assume it meant he wasn’t thinking about the situation. Turning it over in his head, wondering what angle Snape was going for. Wondering what he would gain from taking George on as an apprentice, when they both knew there were other deserving students in their year who would have jumped on an opportunity like this.
“I’ll have to look at the contract,” Fred finally added, and George’s shoulders relaxed ever-so-slightly. “I’m sure it’s airtight, but you never know.”
George hummed, tapping his fingers anxiously against the thick parchment. Next to it, the deep green apprentice badge shone temptingly, its smooth surface calling George’s name. When he’d felt the heft of his Hogwarts letter, he’d worried that Owen had somehow been chosen as Head Boy, leaving George to fill the void he would have left in the Gryffindor Prefect ranks.
He didn’t know if the offer of apprenticeship was more or less daunting.
“You’re not turning this down.”
It wasn’t a question. They’d discussed the possibility already. Both of them had seen an improvement in their grades in the past two years, their determination to open up shop combined with Uncle Gideon’s presence pushing them to do better than what they’d settled for in the past. So, when their professors had asked them about their interest in apprenticeships at the end of their Sixth Year, both of them had expressed their willingness to go deeper into their studies.
But George had thought it would be Fred.
And he knew, deep down, that his twin had believed the same thing.
There was no resentment building in his brother’s eyes and a few years ago, that would have been enough for George, but now–
Now, George spent hours of his days wondering when he and Fred had somehow become their own individuals, separated by more than the few physical differences they’d been careful to keep hidden. Twin-speak, which had always felt natural, had started to feel more superficial as time passed.
His link to Fred was as strong as it had always been, and yet he knew they were growing into something different, and the shift scared him.
Not because he wished to be enmeshed with Fred forever – Merlin knew they’d been trying to be seen as their own people for years now – but because he didn’t care as much as he thought he should have. Because the thought didn’t bother him. Because when he looked at Fred and had to ask himself what was going on inside his brother’s mind, he was filled with equal parts terror and excitement.
Excitement, because they were both starting to become the individuals they’d wanted to be all along.
Terror, because of moments like these, when he stared into Fred’s eyes and wondered if there was resentment hidden somewhere he could no longer find it.
A cuff to the back of his head jerked him out of his spiralling thoughts. He cursed and glared at his twin, who rolled his eyes.
“You’re being a dolt,” Fred said dryly. “I’m happy for you, Forge, truly. Besides, I was coming here to show you a letter of my own, and this apprenticeship of yours makes it even more promising.”
“For the shop?” George brightened at the thought of their business venture.
They were close, he knew. So fucking close.
“For the shop,” Fred agreed, reaching out to grab George’s folded contract just as he dropped an opened letter onto the now-empty desk. “Read it at your leisure, brother mine. I’m sure you’ll have to check for some definitions along the way.”
“Sod off,” George snorted, though he made sure to have his wand on hand in case he did need help with the flowery vocabulary of Fred’s letter.
His room was silent for the next few minutes, the atmosphere only disturbed by the quiet turning of pages and Fred’s humming – which came to a sudden halt when George sent a hex his way.
Fred’s letter was less confusing than George’s, if only because the two of them had actually been expecting it. It had come straight from their most promising business partner, a half-blood by the name of Chanchal Luthra who owned a shop in Diagon Alley and had been delighted to hear from them when they had first reached out to other businessmen in the area.
George adored the man, who had quickly taken to him, raving about George’s pranks and colourful ideas – even the ones that Fred turned out, judging them to be too risky in their current state. They’d met him a few times before they’d left for Canada, and George had been glad to learn that the man was serious about his desire to help them get their feet on the ground once they graduated from Hogwarts.
This latest letter was even more positive than his previous ones. Chanchal had been in contact with the attorney Fred had secured for them with the money from the tournament’s betting ring. Apparently, Sawyer had seen merit in associating with Chanchal, and Chanchal happily reported that he’d found a spot they could hopefully use to set up shop come next year.
“Merlin, Fred,” George whistled when he got to the end of the letter, careful to fold it back up the way he knew his twin preferred. “This is the best news we’ve gotten all year. Absolutely wicked. If we have a front secured, we can even start developing some more products to distribute at school. Get ourselves ready for the grand opening.”
“I know,” Fred grinned at him, his attention immediately ripped away from the contract in his hands. “I don’t want to jinx us, dearest twin, but I do believe we’ve got ourselves a good deal here.”
“And since we’ve got so much to celebrate–”
“–it would be remiss of us not to include the others,” Fred completed for him. George’s heart lightened, excitement filling his veins once more. “You have the supplies?”
“Gred, you wound me!” George raised a hand to his chest, faking hurt as he leaned over his temporary desk and drew out a chest he’d been keeping tightly locked, just in case one of their lovely housemates found their way into his warded room.
“My apologies, Forge,” Fred smirked.
“Don’t apologise,” George snorted. “It doesn’t suit you. Now, are you ready to show our favourite friends what’s to come this year?”
“It would be my greatest honour,” Fred winked, and bent over to unlock the chest in front of George, his gaze lighting up with unrestrained joy as the two of them admired the many products they’d managed to design, create, and perfect over the past year and a half.
George lovingly took out a box of Silver Sparkling Snakes – the names were all his inventions, of course – and grinned as he considered how he could best catch Angelina off-guard. He’d have to make sure Katie wasn’t around, since he had no desire to use her phobia against her, but he thought Angelina would appreciate this particular bit of ribbing.
When he spotted the open boxes of products in Fred’s hands, he couldn’t help but settle deeper in his chair, something within him clicking into place.
Perhaps the apprenticeship wouldn’t be such a bad idea.
After all, he would be a fool to believe anything could tear Fred and him apart. Some bonds simply couldn’t be broken.
Fred stared blankly at the letters in front of him.
He’d been trying to work for the past hour and a half, but the other half of his and George’s chosen office taunted him. He’d been certain that he would be okay with this apprenticeship, and he so hated being proven wrong that he’d been determined to get through this latest pile of paperwork to show he could function fine even when George wasn’t around.
It grated at him to realise he wasn’t quite as adaptable as he’d believed.
One month into their arrangement, he was beginning to realise that his feelings around the matter weren’t linear.
Some days, he loved the quiet of their office. He would gaze over at George’s messy desk, roll his eyes at the absolute chaos of it all, and go back to the contracts and business books he was desperately trying to get through.
And then other days, he would sit as he was today, blankly gazing at a chair that wouldn’t be occupied until the following day, when George wouldn’t be busy with Snape’s orders.
He’d known, from the moment his twin had received Snape’s offer, that George would struggle with the idea of leaving him behind. He had seen it in the way George had refused to tell their family about the apprenticeship, and had felt it when George frowned at him, uncertainty radiating off him in silent but noticeable waves.
His brother had always been the one brimming with emotion, and Fred liked it that way. He liked that they were two sides of the same coin: chaos-incarnate, overflowing with creative ideas, determined to make a name for themselves. George, bursting with joy and anger and nervousness and excitement. Fred, cool and collected even when they were at their worst.
He liked that order very much, and he despised this newly-found uncertainty that plagued him when he was left alone with the business plans they needed to finalise before January.
He flipped aimlessly through the letters in front of him and sighed at the sight of yet another proposition he would have to carefully analyse with a dictionary by his side. It was frustrating, he thought, to realise how little one knew even at 17 years old.
Before he could sink deeper into his chair and lose his last bit of sanity for the day, a knock sounded at the door, dragging Fred out of his stupor.
He combed careless fingers through his hair, tugged his tie back into place, and leaned forward in a perfect look of nonchalance. In less than an instant, he turned himself into the Fred Weasley he reserved for their customers; a front George had helped him come up with when they’d realised their reputation as pranksters somewhat impeded upon their reputation as proper businessmen.
“Come in!” He called out, only to sag back into his seat as he caught the end of green and silver robes, a wisp of dark brown hair, and the edge of a smirk. “Merlin, Avery, you had me thinking I had a customer coming in.”
“It’s past dinnertime, Weasley,” Wren Avery drawled, closing the door behind her as she stepped fully into the room. “Your better half was looking around for you, but Professor Snape caught him at the end of the meal and dragged him away before he could come and drag you out of here. I thought I’d do him a favour.”
Fred snorted, raising an eyebrow at his yearmate as he watched her cross over to George’s side of the room, glance at the array of notes scattered at his desk, and finally stalk over to him, draping herself elegantly in the chair across from him.
“Making yourself at home?” He asked dryly, though his lips were already tugging up into a smile.
“As always, Freddy,” she smiled back at him, some of her sharpness disappearing for a moment before her mask snapped into place once more. Even in the safety of his and George’s front, Wren didn’t let herself slip. “You’ve been sulking again. Missing that twin of yours?”
Fred hummed, ignoring Wren when she rolled her eyes at him. He didn’t have the energy to delve into the matter of his feelings and the absence of his brother whilst also dealing with the usual wave of excitement that overwhelmed him every time he spoke to Wren.
Clandestine meetings had a way of bringing life to him even when misery had been at the forefront of his mind less than a minute earlier. Wren sneaking into Fred and George’s office to offer a hand in friendship, Lee sneaking in to give them the ingredients they’d been missing for their experiments, those were the things Fred craved.
The business was necessary, but the deals and the secrecy and the alliances he was creating… Those were the things he loved.
“Here for business, birdie?” He asked Wren, only for her to flick her wand and toss a stinging hex at him quicker than he could react. He moaned dramatically, holding a hand up to his shoulder.
“You’re being a twit, Fred,” she sighed once he stopped his blathering. He just smirked at her. “You don’t have to sequester yourself in here, you know? You’ll make a pathetic businessman if you don’t know when to give yourself a break. What’s the use in George slaving over potions and products if you’re too burnt out to make good on your side of the deal?”
“Sod off,” Fred grunted, though his voice held no true bite. “I was just answering a few letters before dinner.”
“And now you missed the whole thing,” Wren huffed. “You’re lucky the house elves like you.”
“Not as much as they like you,” Fred said, batting his eyelashes innocently at Wren until she relented, calling for a house elf and smiling when one appeared in front of her within seconds.
Less than a minute later, leftovers were steaming atop Fred’s desk, a slice of his favourite dessert kept to the side.
“Eat,” Wren said sternly.
“Of course, my liege,” Fred teased her. This time, he caught the flick of her wrist and deftly dodged out of the way of her spell, cackling at the put-upon look on her face. “Repetition won’t get you far in life, birdie. You might want to try a little ingenuity. I’d be delighted to give you lessons in creativity.”
“Don’t test me,” Wren snapped, narrowing her eyes at him. Fred raised his hands up in surrender.
His friend was mostly harmless, but he knew better than to push her past her limits. Regardless of her own beliefs, she was an Avery in name and blood, and he was well aware of the spells she had up her sleeves.
The only thing hindering her creativity was the ban on Dark Magic placed upon the school, one that she was determined to see upheld now that she’d been granted the position of Head Girl.
October had barely started, yet Wren had already managed to catch six different students practising Dark Magic in hidden corners and shadowy rooms.
When George had learned that Fred had made a friend out of their prickly Head Girl, he’d fallen at his feet in fake prosternation and had thanked Fred for his sacrifice. They both knew it was nothing of the sort, but Fred couldn’t deny they benefited from a certain leniency that most of their yearmates couldn’t claim for themselves.
“Did you only come here to force me to eat, Wren?” Fred asked as he picked at his food, frowning at his carrots and his small appetite.
She didn’t reply.
“Bloody Slytherins,” Fred rolled his eyes, taking a pointed bite of his food before glaring at Wren. “Satisfied?”
“Keep your mouth closed while you chew, heathen.” Wren wrinkled her nose up in disgust, and Fred resisted the urge to do it again simply to aggravate her. “I already told you why I was here. Your brother missed you at dinner, and it didn’t escape my notice that you’ve gotten into one of your funks again. Figured you’d be hanging around here like a miserable ghost, and it seems I was right.”
“How clever you are,” Fred said dryly.
“I’m here to be your friend, prick,” Wren hissed at him, and Fred snapped his mouth shut. “I know your gaggle of Gryffindors is… busy at the moment, and I thought you might appreciate some company. Though, why you don’t spend some of your free time flying with your teammates instead of languishing here, I’ll never understand. You do care for the sport, don’t you?”
“I’ve got work to do,” Fred pointed out, waving at the papers in front of him. “Besides, I’m talented enough not to need extra practice. I could recite our playbook in my sleep if I wanted to.”
“Are you purposefully missing my point, Freddy, or are you truly this thick?”
Fred met her challenging gaze with a blank stare of his own.
He didn’t acknowledge the mess in front of him, the wrinkled state of his shirt, and the spark in his eyes that struggled to make an appearance now that his twin was almost perpetually occupied elsewhere.
But Wren’s eyes put all those things on display despite his unwillingness to speak them into reality.
“I’ll read them for you.”
“Bird–”
“Get out of here, Fred,” Wren said seriously. “I’ll mind the front for the rest of the evening, draft up the important points about your correspondence, and you can go frolic around with your friends.”
He didn’t protest again.
Instead, he slowly got out of his chair, rounded his desk, and wrapped Wren into a short embrace, snorting when she hesitantly patted his shoulders.
“What would your little Prefects do if they knew how soft you were, Avery?” He joked as he pulled away from her, laughing at the put-upon look on her face. “That wasn’t a threat. Don’t worry, birdie, no one will hear about this. And if you need anything…”
“I will,” Wren smirked.
Fred only laughed harder as he tugged his robes back into place and stepped out of the office for the first time that afternoon.
Perhaps George wasn’t the only one who could bring that distinct bit of brightness into Fred’s life. And perhaps Wren hadn’t been wrong when she’d said he was sulking. Not that he’d ever admit it to her face.
The favour would suffice.
The dungeons were as dark as they’d always been, yet George felt himself relaxing into the familiar abyss as he turned the corner to his personal – if temporary – lab. A quick tempus revealed he only had a few minutes left before he needed to tend to his potion, and he hurried to open the door before any of the little snakes could catch him and drag him into a conversation that would put him decidedly behind schedule.
Ever since Professor Snape had taken him on as his apprentice, the younger Slytherins had started looking to George whenever their Head and deputy weren’t around. If they saw him lingering in the dungeons, they would inevitably have a question for him.
Most days, George was happy to fill this strange role they’d imposed upon him, but most days, he wasn’t running late.
He sighed with relief when he shut the door to his lab behind him, tapped the stone next to the doorknob and felt his wards reactivate.
From there, his hands and feet acted almost on instinct. He still stumbled from time to time, the layout of the lab not quite what he would have chosen for himself, but he’d mostly acclimated to this little space Snape had chosen for him. He’d realised that having his own space made experimenting a lot easier than the half-assed efforts he and Fred had attempted to create a lab of their own.
Now, he walked around his lab with confidence, stirring the Animal Transformation potion he’d been working on the past few weeks before finalising the other potions he’d been brewing at the same time, mostly products he’d perfected before Snape had even taken him on.
It was tiring work, having to keep up with a schedule in a way he never had in the past – and especially not the year before, when his NEWT timetable had given him the freedom to roam as he wished. However, despite his initial hesitation, George had found that he loved the menial work of cutting up ingredients, the responsibility of brewing for the Infirmary, and especially the time he was able to dedicate to his and Fred’s newest line of products.
He grinned and hummed to himself as he approached his Animal Transformation potion again, analysing the viscosity and colour of the mixture in the hopes that he would finally crack its code. So far, all of his attempts had failed at various stages of preparation, and he had a feeling he would have to go through many more melted cauldrons, minor explosions, and outright vile results before finally finding the solution to his problems.
The knock that startled him wasn’t a surprise, but George still had to jump away from the nearest workstation when it echoed around the room.
He hurried to open the door and smiled brightly at Professor Snape, watching in delight as his jaw ticked, the same way it did whenever George utilised his most innocent looks, his most pleasant smiles, and his most guileless looks.
Oh, Snape trusted him with his potions and his work and his students, but George knew they still had a long way to go before he trusted that George wouldn’t purposefully cause mischief in his dungeons.
“Professor!” He greeted his Master with genuine enthusiasm, ushering Snape in, the wards letting him pass without resistance. “As you can see, despite your best attempts to throw me off my usual rhythm, I’ve managed to make it back here and tend to all my potions on time. Some call me a master of my craft.”
Snape’s mask didn’t crack, but George could tell by the look in his eyes that he was at least a little impressed by George’s assiduity.
“Though, I wouldn’t have had to rush down here in a frenzy if you hadn’t kept us longer today,” he continued with a huff. When Snape raised an imperious eyebrow at him, George didn’t even flinch.
He considered that progress, since both he and Sylvie had spent the first month of their apprenticeship looking over their shoulders, constantly dreading the sight of Snape’s cold looks and disappointed sighs.
“Perhaps I would not have had to extend our class, Mr. Weasley, if the student body learned to be punctual, organised, and studious. Can you tell me what Mr. Spratt did wrong this afternoon?”
George resisted the urge to bristle on Jonathan’s behalf. He knew Snape wasn’t asking him out of maliciousness or a desire to pit George against his classmates. He simply wished to see if George could detect the small errors his yearmates made on a regular basis and correct them without prompting.
“One clockwise stir too many,” George replied easily. “Which could have been salvaged if he’d immediately added the spider eggs you’d left at our disposal, but Jonathan didn’t think to bring any back with him. Either he assumed he wouldn’t make a mistake during this particular stirring sequence, or he forgot about the instruction altogether.”
Snape hummed, stepping away from George to look at the potions still brewing around them. His eyes scanned over his tried-and-tested potions blandly before stopping on the Transformation potion.
“Another failure, then?” The professor asked, and George wilted internally.
“I– was hopeful.”
“The texture doesn’t alarm you, Mr. Weasley?” Snape prodded him, and George had the decency to wince this time. “I thought you’d moved past this particular problem.”
“Yes, I know,” George pouted. At least Snape hadn’t vanished his experiment on the spot; he’d let George take a sample before doing anything drastic. One of the many perks of being an apprentice rather than a regular student whose mistakes could potentially harm dozens of his yearmates. “The addition of another teaspoon of nettle seems to have interfered with the thickening agents. Which is a shame, since I think the extra nettle would have been a good soothing component to counteract the dragon scale.”
“A shame indeed,” Snape said, already stepping away from the potion to sit at the chair George kept on hand specifically for these little mentor-mentee meetings. “Suppliers will be contacting me with new resources soon. Perhaps a different kind of dragon scale would suit your purposes better.”
“That’s what Charlie said when I asked him,” George grumbled, hating the thought of having to send another letter to his brother to admit he’d been right. He’d never hear the end of it; Charlie found the idea of George working with Snape hilarious, and he took every opportunity he could to tease George about his work ethic. Charlie wouldn’t let him forget that he’d failed to notice a problem that Charlie himself had identified as soon as George had brought it up.
Never mind that George wasn’t the one who worked with dragons day in and day out.
“Regardless,” Snape said with a wave of his hand. “Your potion is progressing well. A single setback won’t ruin your work. Now, sit. We have to discuss the added responsibilities you’ll have to be taking on in the upcoming months. I ask that you don’t bother Miss Fenwick with this particular set of tasks. I’m sure she’s told you about her struggles already, and we’ve decided to focus solely on the deepening of her creativity before moving onto anything else.”
George nodded seriously, taking his preferred seat and waiting for Snape to speak again. Even if the professor hadn’t requested it, George would have never gone to Sylvie for help with his responsibilities. She was a brilliant brewer, but she and Snape were struggling to unlock the innovation she would need to go from a potioneer to a Master of Potions.
“I am… worried for the younger students,” Snape finally said, the skin around his eyes tense. “Argo has been doing a wonderful job of introducing the subject to the first and second-years, but now that his first class has transferred over to Slughorn’s care, complaints have arisen. I was aware, of course, that his pedagogy left something to be desired, but I did not take action as I should have. I’ve brought this up to the board, of course, and I hope smarter decisions will be made in the near future. However, until then, I need someone I trust to provide the instruction that Slughorn cannot deliver.”
George didn’t gape, but it was a close thing.
“Oh, do wipe that stricken expression from your face,” Snape smirked. “I do not give out empty compliments, Mr. Weasley, so take this one as it has been handed to you. You make for a competent potioneer, but your interpersonal skills are just as important, if not more. I’m aware of the… goals you wish to achieve with your brother, and it would do you well to interact with others more often than you currently are.”
“Well, I’ve been busy with–”
“I do not need excuses,” Snape rolled his eyes, the movement so small George almost missed it. “I know why you’ve been busy, and I do not hold this against you. However, it would do you well to spend time with children and teenagers rather than your potions. You’ll be tutoring select groups of students who I do not believe will succeed in their OWL exams if they are not given additional support.”
“How do you even know which students need help?” George frowned. Snape categorically refused to help Slughorn with his marking, which was entirely fair considering Slughorn didn’t help anyone at all. Still, George had been convinced this meant his mentor was in the dark when it came to the OWL students.
“How I found out is none of your concern,” Snape drawled. “Your only concern, in fact, should be for the lucky children who will work closely with you in the next few months. You will start with theory but, as my apprentice, you have my permission to organise practical sessions so long as myself or Professor Pyrites are available to supervise. You will have to mark their work independently, but you will be excused from the rest of your usual marking duties. Does this seem fair?”
Fair wasn’t the word George would have used. It wasn’t fair that certain students were failing because their professor couldn’t give them what they needed. But George wasn’t going to complain; he’d always enjoyed teaching Ginny when she was little, both of them huddled over children’s books as he carefully enunciated words for her to copy. And so, he nodded confidently, and didn’t comment upon the injustice of the situation.
Snape didn’t need him to state the obvious.
“Good,” the professor smiled tightly. “Your help is appreciated, Mr. Weasley. And now that the formalities have been taken care of, why don’t you tell me more about your current projects with the other Mr. Weasley? I believe my Head Girl is quite invested in your success.”
“That she is,” George grinned. “She’s been our saving grace. Fred can get quite… in his head about the business and everything we have to achieve, and I think she manages to get him out of his funks when I’m not available.”
“Ah, yes,” Snape snorted. “Several of the other professors have mentioned that seeing the two of you detached has been quite a shock. For the first time, Mr. Weasley, I no longer have to correct my colleagues about you and your twin’s identities.”
“The badge probably helps,” George said mock-seriously, biting back a smile.
“Possibly,” Snape smirked. “Though, I believe your independence should be celebrated more than their paltry achievement. It has been refreshing to see you thrive, Mr. Weasley. You will make quite an accomplished Inventor someday. So long as you have a plan, of course?”
“Of course,” George laughed. “That’s what Fred’s for!”
“Ah, yes,” Snape said, exasperation mixed with something kinder tinging his tone. “Of course. The beauty of teamwork.”
And perhaps it was a joke, or a taunt, but George couldn’t find it in himself to mind the words. They rang rather true to him, from his place deep in the dungeon bat’s lair, knowing his better half was upstairs working on the paperwork he would never have the patience for.
Knowing at the end of the day, Professor Snape and Avery would push them out of their work spaces and force them to enjoy their evenings with each other.
It wasn’t a half bad life.
George was vibrating with excitement.
Fred had to refrain from rolling his eyes at his twin and his endless energy. He would have, perhaps, if they hadn’t had an incredibly interested customer in front of them. The fifth-year boy was a Hufflepuff Fred only vaguely recognised, though he didn’t mind the anonymity when it came to their shop front. In fact, their best clients were usually the ones they didn’t know personally, if only because those precious few felt as though they could get away with more.
But this particular boy, with his bright, eager eyes, and a smile so wide it was infectious, held something even rarer than their private dealings with unknown students.
“New products can sometimes be… defective,” Fred said carefully, ignoring George’s put-upon look. His brother would have loved nothing more than to jump at the chance to sell his experimental potions to anyone who asked, but Fred understood now that there were steps they needed to take if they wanted things to be done properly. “The Animal Transformation potion is only on its second prototype and, though our resident Potions Master has determined it isn’t harmful, we also can’t guarantee there won’t be unexpected side effects.”
“I get that,” the boy nodded, a degree of seriousness crossing his face as he glanced away from George and towards Fred instead. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t willing to take a few risks. Look, you need someone to test your products out in the open, and I’m happy to be that person. If you think it’s too dangerous, I respect that, but I’m not going to rescind my offer.”
“He’s perfect, Gred,” George sighed wistfully.
If George had his way, all of the younger wayward students would have been adopted into their family and inducted into their business already.
“You’ll have to sign a waiver,” Fred continued, though he could feel the eagerness coursing through his blood too. He bounced from one foot to the other, the only way to contain the restless feeling threatening to overtake his logic. “You’ll read it twice and if at the end of that, you’re still happy to proceed, we’ll take you on. Sound fair?”
“More than,” the boy grinned. “Does this mean I’ll get priority on all future products, or only the ones you’ve created so far?”
“We’ll see,” Fred answered before George could make a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep.
“If it’s not dangerous, baby badger, I’ll make sure you get the first taste,” George added despite Fred’s warning look. “Now, why don’t you go sit at my desk to read that over while I have a talk with our reticent Forge here?”
“Watch your words, brother dearest,” Fred said sharply. “You may be our creative mastermind, but don’t think I’ve forgotten how to terrorise my siblings.”
George laughed, but Fred knew the threat had landed when his twin glared at him and attempted to jinx him behind his back. Fred smirked, dodged the spell, and smiled innocently at George.
“Low blow, Gred,” he chuckled. “Resorting to petty spellcasting now? How the mighty have fallen. And here I thought you had some new tricks up your sleeve. Maybe Professor Snape isn’t working you hard enough if this is the best you can come up with. Don’t the two of you have anything more innovative bubbling in the dungeons?”
“Pretty sure Snape would have my head if he knew I was using jinxes,” George snickered. “He’d be asking me to recite every curse I know in order to come up with a better plan to take you down. None of our potions, though. You can joke about it all you want, oh brother mine, but don’t you dare touch those brews.”
“As if I’d ever get caught,” Fred drawled, not bothering to dodge the jab to the ribs that George aimed his way. He took it with a laugh and a smile. “Though, if you keep producing the kind of potions you brought back this week, I can promise I won’t mess with your stock. And we have a volunteer , Georgie.”
“Baby badger so eager to throw himself to the lions,” George said, his voice brimming with equal parts deviousness and envy. “We’re not the little ones anymore, Freddy. You know, I’ve seen that kid around some of my pupils. The pupils I teach. Because I’m being trusted with those sorts of things now.”
“How disgusting,” Fred teased. “Responsibility is a… look on you.”
“Oh, don’t even try,” George snorted. “We both know it suits both of us ridiculously well considering how hard we tried to make ourselves as irresponsible as possible. Uncle Gideon really ruined it for us both, you know?”
He had, and yet he’d also turned both of them into the best versions of themselves. He was the reason Fred could imagine their shop beyond their NEWTs. He was the reason Fred could imagine getting his NEWTs, full stop. And he was most likely the reason George had buckled up the previous year and made a real effort to show his talents in the subjects he’d already been a natural at.
“I think our legacy will outlive us regardless,” Fred reassured his brother. “I mean, these new products are bloody fantastic and I’m sure the profit will be worth it, but nothing beats the toilet prank and the thousands of ways we came up with to send Lockhart running every time he saw us. The Weasley Twins will live in Hogwarts’ heart forever.”
“Sap,” George said, his eyes sparkling with humour. Underneath it all, Fred could see genuine happiness. A feeling of deep satisfaction. The knowledge that they were building Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes from something solid, rather than a dream they were both afraid to speak out loud. “It pains me to think that of all professors, Snape’s the one who’s going to come out of this thinking of me as a… good student.”
“Truly, you walked into that one yourself,” Fred cackled. “I never thought I’d see the day when you would straighten your spine for anyone, let alone the dungeon bat.”
“Not so much of a bat after all,” George said, his lips twisting into a thoughtful moue. “You know, I think he has a family.”
Fred choked on air, earning himself a curious look from the boy across the room. Light eyes gazed at him for a few seconds while Fred recovered from his sudden fit. As soon as he calmed, the boy went back to his waiver, his lips moving as he read.
“Seriously?” Fred hissed.
“Feels sacrilegious, doesn’t it?” George huffed. “And yet, there’s no denying that he gets private visits in his quarters and shuts them to everyone else, even his apprentices. And he has some sort of picture that he looks at whenever he’s stressed and thinks no one is looking. It’s tucked in one of the hundreds of robe pockets, obviously.”
“Obviously,” Fred shook his head in disbelief. “Well, fuck.”
“Classified information, Gred,” George told him, his gaze cautionary. “Snape might not be the bastard we thought he was, but he still has a mean streak and a half. He won’t take well to his students getting involved in his personal affairs.”
“I’m not going to tell tales, Forge,” Fred glared at his brother, partly because he couldn’t believe his twin didn’t trust him, and partly because… Well, perhaps the thought had briefly crossed his mind. Wren would pay a hefty sum to get her hands on information pertaining to her Head of House.
“Hey, I’m done.”
They both jumped at the reappearance of the fifth-year boy.
He looked more settled now, his face screwed up with determination. Fred noted now how neatly he was dressed, the perfectly styled outfit in contradiction with his windswept hair, waves sticking out unevenly around his soft features.
“I’ve signed already.”
“Atta boy,” George laughed, slapping the boy’s back. “Told you this one was a good one, Fred. Knows how to recognise valuable products when he sees them. They’re my own inventions, you know?”
“He knows,” Fred said, smiling amusedly at his brother. “So, little mister…”
“Grey,” the boy completed for him. “Or Leo, if you prefer.”
“Mister Leo,” Fred winked at him. “Everything seems to be in order. I’m sure you read this in the waiver already, but you can choose to remove yourself from this service whenever you so wish. This isn’t a lifelong commitment.”
“Though you’d be a lucky bloke indeed to benefit from this for the rest of your life,” George interjected. Little Leo grinned at him, mischief and excitement fighting for dominance on his face.
“He would be, indeed,” Fred played along. George beamed at him. He was vibrating again. “So, you’re ready to start?”
“More than,” Leo said, bouncing on his heels. “I wasn’t sure what to think when Hani dropped hints about this place, but it’s even better than anything I could have imagined.”
George and Fred exchanged the quickest look before turning to Leo again.
“Of course—”
“—we should have known.”
“Our little lion—”
“—little snake does so love to spice up our lives.”
Leo blinked at them.
“Yeah,” he finally said. “That really is a bit creepy. Do you reckon you could make a potion that would make it possible for people to twin-speak for a while? It would be an instant best-seller. I’ve heard some of the younger pairs of twins try to replicate it, and it’s never quite as successful as what you two manage to do.”
“Well, thank Merlin it isn’t,” George gasped in mock-offence. “Little Mister Leo, twin-speak is our trade secret.”
“Not something we’ll ever be looking to replicate,” Fred confirmed. Leo only shrugged, seemingly unbothered by their reaction to his suggestion.
Fred liked him. Not that he was surprised; Hani had impeccable taste in friends.
“We’ll get the waiver back to you tomorrow,” Fred said once he realised the boy was waiting for him to sign the contract there and then. “I’ve got to check that everything’s alright on the legal end, and then I’ll have to get both of us to sign off on this as well as Professor Snape, who’s in charge of—”
“And that’s your cue to escape,” George whispered loudly, winking at Leo as the boy slipped out of the room without hesitation.
Then, it was just Fred and George again.
They stared at each other, wonder sparking between them.
“Can you believe—”
“I didn’t think it would actually—”
“A customer!”
“We’re actually doing this, Georgie!”
George closed the distance between them in an instant, clapping his hands against Fred’s back, his warm arms encircling him for a moment before letting him go.
“We’re bloody doing this, Freddy. You and me, Professor Snape, Avery, and some random kid Hani managed to convert over to us. What a team.”
What a team, indeed.
It was going to be a damned good year.