Squicktastic!

Chapter 2: Pretty Kitty and Squicky Piggy

Fred slumped against the wall. His day couldn't get any worse. At least, that's what he had told himself at breakfast when he became the target of flying syrup - for the third day in a row. And by his darling baby brother, too. Poor Ron. He was going to end up enchanted to have a peacock tail by the end of the day as penance for this horrible assault. But maybe that would teach the boy not to flirt with disaster if he couldn't handle the consequences. Ron will just have to pay.

A soft sigh escaped his lips. Waiting for punishment from the house head was worse than the actual punishment. Fred spent these minutes contemplating what he would do to someone like him. Luckily, McGonagall wasn't as creative as he was.

"Mr. Weasley."

Fred jumped up from his perch against the wall. He smiled up at Professor McGonagall. "My, Professor... you really are looking radiant these days. Are you using a new moisturizer?"

McGonagall pursed her lips together and motioned inside the Transfiguration room. "Enough of that, Mr. Weasley. Compliments like that may have gotten you out of trouble before, but I realize that I have been much too lenient with you and your brother. If you are to be able to enter the wizarding world as fully functioning adults, I'm going to have to instill in you a better since of decorum."

Grinning, Fred plopped down onto one of the desks. "Oh, couldn't we just leave that to my Mum? She's used that line often enough-"

"Silence!" she snapped, slamming her hand down on the desk.

Fred jumped. The woman wasn't usually this sharp with him. Usually it was a stern talking to, maybe a detention or two, and a couple of points from Gryffindor. That's how it had always been and by Merlin, that's Fred wanted it to stay. He motioned to the desk and mumbled behind closed lips.

"What was that, Mr. Weasley?" she asked, tapping her wand against the desk.

"Mmmmhmmhm..."

"Speak up, boy!" the professor snapped. "I haven't sealed your lips yet."

"But you told me to be silent..."

"Shut up and tell me what you were trying to say!"

Fred paused, trying to sort out the seemingly contradictory statement. He concluded that it would be more beneficial to talk than to face her wrath. After all, he didn't want to become transfigured into a tea kettle or some other inanimate object by accident if he got her mad enough - Lee Jordan had mentioned that happening to his older brother's roommate's sister a few years back. "I was asking if I should take a seat, or would you prefer for me to stand?"

McGonagall pursed her lips together once again. "Any position is fine. You'll be punished just as easily either way."

He dropped down into the seat, delicately placing his wand on the desk in full view of the professor, as was their detention custom. McGonagall reached out and swiped the enchanted wood and slipped it into a fold in her robe. "You won't be needing that anytime soon," she muttered, her hands moving to the clasp near her neck.

Fred's eyes went wide... why did he have the sudden feeling of impending doom?

The feeling was well founded. No sooner had her fingers fluttered across the clasp did the robes drop to the floor, revealing a skin-tight leather cat suit. She threw off her glasses, shook her head to release her long silver hair from its captive hairdo, and commanded the transfiguration of her grade book into a long cat-of-nine-tails whip.

"Um... P-Professor?" Fred stuttered.

"Shut up boy," she purred, resting a black stiletto boot against his chair. She tapped the whip on the ground and laughed quietly. "I'm going to teach you a lesson because you were a very... very bad boy."

"Professor McGonagall... I think you're trying to seduce me." The professor tossed her head back and roared with laughter. Fred swallowed hard. "And I don't think I like it!" he finally squeaked out. "Author! Author!"

What now?

"The professor?! Why did it have to be the professor?!" Fred screamed.

Well, she's really talented. I mean, she can transfigure a radio out of bamboo and coconuts.

"What's a radio?"

Never mind.

"I think you should-"

I know, I know... go annoy George now.

***

Harry sighed. Another summer with the Dursley's. Why couldn't Dumbledore just let him go live with Sirius... or the Weasleys? It just wasn't fair.

"Are you going to eat all of your cake?" Dudley asked, motioning towards Harry's plate.

Harry sighed, not bothering to glance down at the plate. "I can't eat cake when I'm not given a bloody piece, now can I?"

Dudley erupted into fits of laughter. Harry gripped the edge of the table to stop the vibrations in the floor the fat boy's convulsions had caused. Again, Harry stopped to ponder why Dumbledore insisted upon putting him through this torture year end and year out.

"Dudley-poopykins-iwinsies," Petunia called sweetly from the kitchen. "Do you want another slice of cakey-wakey?"

"Yes Mum," Dudley replied, just as saccharine sweet, delivering a swift kick to Harry's shins on the word 'Mum'.

That was it. Harry had had it. He was finished with the Dursleys. If there was any way possible, he was getting out.

Quite without warning, the idea came to him.

The Weasley's had fixed the Dursley's fireplace onto the Floo Network late last year while the Dursley's had been on holiday. If there was still that little bag of Floo Powder in his bag, this might work. It wasn't enough to send him through, but maybe he could send a letter. Harry leapt up from the table and dashed upstairs to his hole of a room.

"MUM!" Dudley shrieked. "He's leaving before I'm finished eating!"

Vernon Dursley placed his newspaper in his lap and glared at the boy. "Well don't just sit there, go get him back! My son is not a pansy arse who's afraid to get what he wants!"

Dudley nodded, struggling to pull himself out of the chair. The weight he'd gained from the pieces of cake had latched on to his hips and forced him off balance. The boy tumbled to the floor right in front of his mother and the stove.

"Oh! Dudley-wudley!" Petunia exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

Dudley didn't have time to answer - he was too busy protecting his head from the boy jumping over it. The tumble had given Harry enough time to write a note, grab the Floo power, and make his way back here. The heroic boy-who-lived crumpled the note, tossed it and the pinch of Floo powder he had into the fireplace and yelled "The Burrow!" In a green flash, the paper was gone.

"And what God-forsaken magic have you just performed, boy?" Vernon roared, slamming his paper down again.

Harry smirked. "Oh, nothing Uncle Vernon. It's just a pretty trick."

"You're lying, boy," Vernon growled. "If I found out you lied, it'll be back to the cupboard for you!"

"Oh, he wasn't lying."

The Dursleys turned to face the voice that came from the fireplace. Instead of the wood there stood two identical boys, both smirking and tapping their wands against their arms. "W-Who are you?" Vernon stuttered.

The boys bowed. "Allow us to introduce ourselves. My name is Your Worst, and my companion here is Night Mare."

Harry smiled. "Fred... George... where are the others?"

"They should be here in a few," George answered. "We were the closest when we got your note."

"This is black magic! Evil!" Vernon snapped, only to be silenced by Fred's wand pointed at his mouth.

"Would you like to keep your vocal chords, or can I play 'cat's cradle' with them?" Fred laughed.

"You leave my father alone!" Dudley shouted, finally getting off of the floor and waddling towards the other twin.

"Oh please... this is who has been oppressing you for so long, Harry?" George asked, shoving the fat boy down to the ground. He leaned over the little piggy and smiled. "I'm afraid you're not quite as scary down there."

Dudley looked up at the boy who'd hurt him. A glassy look came over his eyes as he glared at the twin. "You... you have the loveliest eyes," Dudley murmured.

"Well, thank you, I try to-" George stopped as soon as he realized what was about to happen. "Oh bloody hell."

"I can see myself in your eyes."

"No you can't."

"Just like I can see myself in your arms," Dudley swooned. He sat up slowly and encircled his arms around George's legs. "You are so right!" he cried, tears starting to trail down his plump face. "I have treated him as... as sub-human! It was wrong! So w-wrong," he blubbered.

"Sweet Merlin," George mumbled. He tried in vain to yank Dudley from his legs. "Get a hold of yourself, man. Remember? I'm magic scum."

"I have seen the error of my ways!" Dudley roared. "I was wrong. Harry is a fine cousin... one could ask for none better." He tilted his eyes upward. "Although, I would like to get to know YOU better," he added with a swinish grin.

George paled. "Getoffgetoffgetoff!" he shrieked, finally removing himself from the terribly grasped. "What did I ever do to you!" he whimpered from his protected position behind Fred.

It was on the list!

"Don't feel bad, George," Fred supplied. "The one before that was McGonagall."

George's face contorted in revulsion. "Ugh. Squicky."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

You know, you two are giving me more problems than Draco ever did.

"That's because that git will get with anything that has legs," Fred supplied.

And Hermione. She understood the literary importance of this work.

"Repressed," George replied.

Look, you don't have a choice. Let's make the next one a little bit more entertaining, shall we?

Fred and George nodded. "We solemnly swear that we won't ruin a good story."

Thank you.

"We'll see how long it takes for her to come up with a GOOD story," George whispered, Fred nodding in agreement.