Hermafrosts

8:30pm

There was shrieking at Wheezes. There was always shrieking at Wheezes. Even when it was almost empty, Angelina heard shrieking. From the lights and the flashes and the whirls and the bangs and the laughter and the... well, the shrieking.

She grinned and stepped into the shop, shaking the rain out of her hair and looking around. Despite the overall nervous gloom of Diagon Alley, there was a huge crowd inside Wheezes, even at this late hour of the day. Kids, parents, grandparents, couples, teenagers, everyone looking either cheerful or harried. Or both.

"Oi! Captain!"

She turned to see one of the twins hurrying towards her, and it was a sign of how long she'd been away from them that she didn't immediately recognize which one.

"Merlin! What are you doing here?" asked the twin as he reached her. She returned his exuberant hug, frowning slightly; it bothered her to no end when she couldn't tell them apart. He stepped back, laughed at her expression, and tilted his head slightly, just enough so the hair slid back and she could see - ah. Right. No earlobe. She suppressed a wince.

"How are you, George?"

"Bloody useful, that," he said, turning to somebody who'd hurried up right behind him. She was shocked to recognize Lee Jordan, looking almost unrecognizable with short hair, thick glasses, and a beard and moustache. "Dunno why we never thought of self-mutilation as an aid to identification before, I'm telling you."

Lee hugged Angelina enthusiastically. "Did the extra-eared one know you were coming?"

"No, it was a spur of the moment thing."

"He'll be thrilled to see you," said George. "He's just in back right n- careful!" He shoved her down as a shower of sparks flew at them from the back of the shop. He straightened up and gave her an apologetic glance. "Sorry, I'll be back in a mo'. Bloody kids..." He hurried towards the source of the sparks.

Angelina glanced around at the controlled chaos of the shop. It was packed, as usual. Probably more than usual, as it was the first day of the Easter weekend. How the twins could live with so much bloody noise was unbelievable, but they thrived in it. She did too, normally - loved crowds, excitement, fun. Just not to this insane degree.

"So you just decided to drop by?" Lee asked. "Where the hell have you been, by the way?"

"Nowhere exciting," she said with a grimace. "I've missed everyone."

"Well we've missed you too, but..." he trailed off as George came hurrying back.

"I've got fake papers," Angelina shrugged. "Can't lie low all the time. And this isn't a bad place to go, if you're looking to be among wizards but not run into any of the wrong ones."

"Yeah, that's what I figured too," said Lee. "Busy weekend, persons of interest less likely to be noticed. Particularly if they're as cleverly disguised as I am."

George rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, I still think you're an idiot for risking it," he said. "You know we're being watched, you berk." He turned to Angelina. "And you do know the Ministry's doing random spot-checks on papers, right? I dunno where you got yours, but-"

"I got them so I wouldn't have to be in permanent hiding or leave the wizarding world entirely," Angelina said defensively. "What's the use of having them if I'm too scared to use them?"

George nodded. "Yeah, we know, but... just be careful, right? Some Muggle-borns get the choice of leaving or being sent to Azkaban. Those with fake papers... don't."

Angelina scowled. "You telling me to be careful. That's rich."

"We're pureblood as the driven snow, mate. We've even got the papers to prove it." He grimaced in disgust. "Me and Fred wanted to put them to best use in the loo after we got them, but Lee convinced us to keep 'em. Poor Dad, handing them out to all of us when they came in. Thought he was going to be sick."

"So are you saying I'm not brave enough to take risks?"

"Think I'm saying you're being brave enough just by staying in the wizarding world at all. Don't need to add foolish to brave." He startled as rain started to fall on them and sounds of protest erupted from the other customers. "Bugger! 'Scuse me. Oh and go see Fred, he's in the workroom."

She smiled at Lee and slowly made her way to the back of the shop, pausing at the door of the long, narrow workroom. Fred was stirring something in a cauldron, muttering under his breath, a lurid purple parchment floating in the air next to him.

"...fifty-six, fifty-seven." He stopped, stepped back and waved his wand over the cauldron. "Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid potion yellow!"

The potion glowed a bright gold, and Fred laughed in delight.

"Is that even a proper incantation?" Angelina said, grinning, and Fred turned around, surprised. His face lit up.

"Angelina!" He started towards her, then stopped and put up a hand as she came closer. "Wait, sorry, hang on-" he did a few complex waves of his wand. "Sorry, I'd go over there and try to snog you breathless right now but I'm in the middle of something here. Have to wait a mo'."

"Tossed over for a potion, am I?"

"Every time. This potion brings me Galleons. You bring me nothing but your sunny disposition and fickle womanly wiles."

Angelina leaned against the door as he finished a rather intricate series of wand movements.

"There," he said with satisfaction, finally putting down his wand and covering the cauldron.

"What was that?" Angelina asked, partly to cover her slight discomfort as he came closer. Not that he would actually try to snog her breathless, but Fred did have an odd way of joking about the fact that they had once gone out together, and she'd broken up with him.

He hugged her close, then stepped back, still holding her arm, beaming at her. "What the hell are you doing here, anyway? Didn't think we'd be seeing you anywhere around for months."

"Not going to scold me, are you?"

"Why would I?" He grinned at her sceptical look. "If you came to the workroom it's because George told you I was here and undid the wards for you. And if George did that, he's already told you that you should be more careful. You have been duly castigated by the Weasley Twins, which leaves me off the hook. So where the devil have you been?"

"Working with some animal Healers on the Isle of Man. Informal apprenticeship."

"You got in? Good for you!" He squeezed her arm lightly. "So, how is it?"

"Erm, good. The cases are interesting. The Healers are wonderful." She paused.

"And?"

Angelina sighed. "And I've talked to more sheep than people in months."

"Not great conversationalists, sheep. I've heard." He looked back as the cauldron made a sound like 'Ahem'. "Oh bugger I have to stir this thing. Here," he motioned her to follow him into the workroom, pulled a stool out from under a work table and placed it a few feet away from the active cauldron. "Sit here, would you? And don't come any closer, this cauldron's finicky."

She sat watching him work, smiling at the small frown of concentration on his face, his busy hands, his purple parchment slowly filling with acid green words. Happy to watch somebody else work, for a change. Somebody who seemed to be enjoying his task, which probably didn't involve animal dung as much as hers usually did.

"Mr. Weasley?" A lovely blonde poked her head into the workroom.

"Yeah?"

"The Frisbees are upset again and I can't find their cheering charms," she said, glancing at Angelina curiously.

"Sorry, you told me we were running low on them yesterday, didn't you? Hang on, I'll find some." Fred smiled at the woman and started to rifle through a drawer. "Oh this is a friend of ours, Angelina. Angelina, Verity." He opened another drawer as the two of them exchanged polite nods, then he gave a triumphant Aha. "Here, catch," he said, and tossed a small box at Verity. She caught it, gave him a brilliant grin, and hurried off as he turned back to his cauldron, an absent smile on his face.

Ah, yes, the hired help. Angelina gave herself a mental shake. Because really, Fred's teasing aside, she really did want to be just friends with him. And she had absolutely no call to feel that jealous little burn at the way he smiled at his beautiful shop assistant.

"What are you working on?"

"Music potion. It's not that difficult, but I'm at the tricky part right now." He added some droplets to the potion, counting each drop. "Oh, yeah, don't say anything that has sibilants," he said distractedly.

"What?"

"Esses. As soon as the last drop goes in. Sh or th is all right, not ss."

"Sibi-" he waved at her impatiently and stoppered the small bottle, putting it away. "What do you mean? Do they interfere with the... charm?" She'd almost said Spell.

"Yeah. Make a hell of a bang, too."

"Like the di- erm, vanishing charm Flitwick taught?"

"Yeah, but only louder. Don't worry, it won't take more than an hour," he said, stirring carefully. "Either watch your vocabulary or... lithp."

"Right."

"You've been on the Isle the whole time, then?"

"Yeah."

"Not been in contact with anyone?"

She shook her head. "Not really, no one other than my family. Keep up with Katie and Leanne by owl a bit, but..."

"And who were you dating again?"

Angelina swiftly suppressed her annoyance and her... was that a twinge of hurt pride? over Fred's offhand tone. "Derek. Not with him any more," she said, hoping her tone would put him off. Not only did she not want to discuss another boyfriend with Fred, but she was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to find substitute non-sibilant words for "self-absorbed bastard" or "miserable arsewipe."

She glanced around the workroom. It was somewhat more organized than it had been the last time she'd seen it, though that had been a long time ago. The cauldrons were still arranged in a row along one wall at the back of the room, but now there were six of them, fairly high-quality ones to boot, three of them currently bubbling. Long, narrow work tables lined the other side wall at the back of the room, and a bulletin board covered with a range of notices, ads, appointments, photographs, news clippings, and scrawled messages spanned the entire back wall. At the front of the room both walls were lined with cupboards and shelves groaning under the weight of the various ingredients, packaging materials, and finished products.

Fred was frowning and muttering under his breath to the parchment hanging next to him while she looked at the bulletin board. Funny how completely identical Fred and George were in so many ways, yet the differences were there for anyone who knew them well. Fred's neat, precise writing - such a sharp contrast to George's untidy scrawl. She puzzled over a back-and-forth:

antlers?

not good

maybe 4zu

do it

done

87h65

take that back

Cartoons, invoices, and a Blood Status certificate:

Name: Tom Marvolo Riddle, alias Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, You-Know-Who, Ickle Tommiekins. Occupation: Snakeface. Blood Status: Pure-shit.

"You hypocrite, warning other people about taking... rithkth," she said, feeling silly at the lisp, and jumping slightly as the cauldron next to Fred's hiccupped and sent ash into the air. "D'you have any idea how much trouble that thing could get you in? It could bloody well get you killed!"

"Anything can get you killed," Fred laughed, brushing ash out of his hair, and Angelina ignored the urge to brush off the last bit of ash that clung to a lock in the front. Longer hair suited him, she decided. She'd always had a weakness for his hair; on both him and George, it was like a bright beacon, a perfect match to their personalities. She wondered if they'd made a conscious decision to grow it, partially hiding George's injury and keeping them looking identical.

All right, not cool, now she was sort of staring, and only Fred's preoccupation with his potion was keeping him unaware of it. She cast about for a distraction.

"What..." she rolled her eyes. No help for it. "What ith that thmell?"

"You tell me," he said, flashing her a quick smile.

She breathed in deeply. "Quidditch leather. And... thinnamon?"

"Really?" Fred dipped a small spoon into the potion and blew on it. "I get Quidditch leather, lilac, and chocolate. A cup of very diluted Amortentia went in here in the beginning." He poured the spoonful of potion into a small bowl and set it on the counter.

"What for?"

"We add it to a lot of what we make. Just makes it more pleasant to work with."

"But what about-" she stopped, and frowned. "Wait, you just said-" He smirked at her and she rolled her eyes. "You twit."

"Had you going, didn't I? I was trying to figure out how to get you to recite 'the sixth sheik's sixth sheep's sick,' but I must be losing my touch."

She shook her head as he chuckled. "So it doesn't do anything else? The Amortentia, I mean."

"No, really doesn't. And we put warnings on products where it's strong enough to have any effect." She raised her eyebrows at him in mild disbelief. "Have to grow up sometime, right?"

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"It's true! For some things, anyway."

"Such as?"

He shook his head. "Ah, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you. Oh, hang on, if I don't pay attention to this next step I might actually kill you."

She looked around the workroom again. God, how she'd missed this. And she'd missed him, so much - his sense of humour, his making light of even the darkest situations, his optimism...

Maybe that was why she hated him taking their break-up so lightly. Because it might have been the right thing to do, but that didn't mean she didn't regret it a little, even two years later. And he just seemed to find the whole thing funny.

"Looks like the business is doing well," she noted. "So what's it like, being such a successful entrepreneur?"

"Bloody exhausting, to be honest. Haven't even gone outside much lately, other than for Secret Things."

"Yeah?"

"We're generally up at dawn, get breakfast, restock the shelves, open up, don't even get a chance to sit till the place closes down for the night. After closing is cleaning up, taking inventory, starting to make tomorrow's stock and filling mail orders. We're both usually in bed by eleven and bloody exhausted."

"Can't you hire somebody to help?"

"We did. Verity," he said, stirring briskly and peering at his mixture. "We're going to need somebody else soon; we've got scarce more than an hour here or there to invent or buy ingredients or what have you. There is such a thing as too much success."

And yet here he was, late at night after a full day's work, still bubbling with manic energy. "You could slow down," Angelina said, amused. "Take some time for yourselves."

"Yes, Mum," he grinned at her. "It's fun, though. Neither of us minds. Won't be like this forever; we've only been in business two years. I figure at some point we'll get tired of dealing with customers and devote ourselves to mostly just inventing. Too hard to stay away right now, though. The customers are one of the more interesting parts of the job."

A strangled scream erupted from the shop and the workroom lights blinked, making Fred's head jerk up. He gave a short laugh and went back to the potion, suspending it.

"Speaking of customers, hang on a bit, will you? I've got to go give George back-up."

"What is it?"

"Enforcing shop policy," he said, and hurried out. Angelina followed him to the front of the shop.

"What the hell is that?" a boy, maybe fifteen or sixteen years old, was yelling, as his companion choked on what looked like an enormous quantity of foam spurting from his mouth. A strong smell of lemon-scented cleaning solution wafted through the air. George had just reached them and he and Fred exchanged grim smiles.

"He wasn't even touching anything! What the hell?"

Three other boys had now gathered around the mouth-foaming boy.

"Sorry, boys, your friend's got to leave," Fred said coolly. "Shop policy."

"What?"

He nodded at a sign hanging by the front door. No foul language.

"What? He wasn't swearing!" protested one of the boy's friends.

"'Fraid he was."

The boy's father had shown up. "Brent? What the-" He turned to the twins. "What's going on here?"

"I'm sorry sir, but this is a family-friendly business," George said calmly. "We can't have foul language here. Your son will have to leave the premises."

The man's face darkened. "What did you say?" he asked his son.

"He didn't say anything wrong!" said the tallest of the boy's companions. "He was just telling us about Rosie Muller, you know, the stupid Mudblood bi-" and the second boy's mouth filled with soap as well. By now a few other customers had stopped to gape at them.

"Oh dear, you'll have to go too now," Fred said. "Don't worry, the soap disappears once you're out on the street. You'll have a minty aftertaste for a while though. Too bad Fortescue's gone missing; ice cream always gets rid of the taste."

"You - that's -" the father was clearly having trouble trying to figure out what to say.

"That's all right sir," said George. "They can come back once they've learned some manners."

"You've got a lot of nerve," the man said, his face darkening even further.

Fred crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Our shop. Our rules."

"Sensitive to 'Muggle-borns,' are you?" the man sneered, and Angelina clenched her fists, shocked at the rage that suddenly flashed through her. The man glanced at the Blood Status certificates tacked on the wall next to the door. "And you a pair of purebloods, too. Should be ashamed of yourselves, filthy little blood traitors." He paused, then laughed unpleasantly. "Oh that doesn't get caught by your little profanity detector?"

"No sir, because that's not foul language, you see," said George. "It's just poor manners."

"And it's not a label we're particularly ashamed of either," Fred added, his voice steely. "It might be best if you all run along now."

"I'll be telling our friends not to come here!" said the shortest boy, glaring at them.

"Oh would you?" George said brightly. "Thanks ever so! Saves us asking you to do it for us."

"Don't think the Ministry won't hear about this!" said the father.

"Why, do they need to be taught some manners too?" asked Fred.

Angelina felt a pang of alarm. Lee had appeared behind George, and now put a hand on his elbow. "Oi, George, Verity needs your help back here..."

George and Fred waited, stony-faced, as the man and the four boys left the shop, then glanced at each other and went their separate ways, George heading off with Lee and Fred pushing past Angelina and heading for the workroom again.

Angelina stood still, getting her breathing under control again.

Godric's balls. This was what was going on in the wizarding world? She was better off with her sheep.

She drew closer to the two certificates on the wall, reading them. In stark contrast to all the other colourful ads and posters and decorations that glistened or pulsed or trilled, carefully and attractively arranged, on almost all available wall space, the two certificates were tacked up carelessly, hanging askew. Frederick J. Weasley, April 1, 1978. Occupation: shop owner, Diagon Alley. Blood Status: Pureblood, said one. It had a sepia-toned ring over part of it, as though a teacup had been set on it, and one corner was slightly singed. George K. Weasley, April 1, 1978. Occupation: shop owner, Diagon Alley. Blood Status: Pureblood. It was wrinkled and had three games of noughts and crosses on it, and a rip along one side.

She returned to the workroom to find Fred back at his cauldron, a set expression on his face.

"Fred..." she said, coming up behind him.

"What?"

"You need to be more careful."

He picked up one of the flasks from the counter and threw it against the wall, and Angelina jumped as it shattered. "Fred!"

Fred was standing with his back to her, head bowed and staring down into his cauldron for a long moment. "I hate this," he said, his voice low.

Angelina nodded.

"D'you know we had to go to the fucking Ministry office to apply for those papers? All of us in the Alley did. The only way we're even allowed to stay in business is if we can prove we got our magic 'rightfully.' Bastards. Making us recite our bloody ancestry, like it makes any fucking difference at all how many Prewetts and Potters and Malfoys and Longbottoms there are on our family tree."

He turned and grimaced apologetically. "Shit. Sorry. Bit stupid, whinging to you about it. Bit like complaining about Gringott's fees to someone who doesn't have a vault, yeah?"

"I don't know, I'm... I don't have to deal with this most of the time. I'm pretty isolated from all of it on the Isle. Which is why I went there. I could see how it must be frustrating." Angelina trailed off, feeling like she was flailing a bit. "I just... I don't want you to get hurt. George said that you know they're watching you. Getting into arguments like that doesn't help."

"Angelina. They know our loyalties. We've the right to toss people out of our shop if we want. I don't care what the Ministry thinks of it, it's not illegal. Yet," he added grimly.

"Still, you..." she trailed off as his lips pressed together, and realized it was probably a bad idea to continue this vein. Bit like George scolding her about her papers. She sat back down and motioned him to get back to his potion, and cast about for something to say as he picked up a long spoon and got back to work. "How... how's Ginny?"

"Oh, she's having a wonderful year at school," Fred said, his tone casual once more, stirring carefully. "Snape's Headmaster, you know. She says there's been a lot of changes to the curriculum. Half of Potions is now devoted to shampoo research, and Filch looks like he's on a year-long honeymoon. But other than that, she's having a lovely time."

"Have you... have you heard anything from Ron?" she asked cautiously.

"Nope," he said. "Not since Bill's wedding. Though Bill told us he saw him at Christmas. Didn't come to the Burrow - probably scared he'd have to sit near Auntie Muriel."

"That was three months ago," she said slowly.

Fred shrugged. "He should be fine, especially if he took along the book we gave him. Remember Oliver and his How to Charm Witches book? As long as he remembers what it says, it's possible Hermione won't kill him."

Angelina frowned. "You know, there is such a thing as taking things too lightly. Doesn't it bother you, all this going on in your own family?"

He looked up at her, and his eyes narrowed.

"Bother us? Our baby sister's in a bloody snake pit. Our kid brother's God only knows where, and that's assuming he's still alive." He crossed his arms. "Our dad's working at the Ministry and being watched, Mum cries all the time, all the hands on our clock point to Mortal Danger, Bill's... not doing well, come full moons, though he and Fleur clearly think nobody can tell, Charlie's probably safest of all of us, with his dragons - and if you can say that with a straight face, you've got some serious problems - and Percy the Prat may be a fucking turncoat and a scumbag but he's in a bloody hell of a lot of danger too because of the rest of us. Oh and George still gets dizzy spells from losing his ear, drives him mental." He paused for breath. "Am I missing anyone? Oh right, the Order's gone deeper underground, Lee's probably going to get himself killed doing Potterwatch, and Hagrid's on the run. Half our friends are scared for their lives and the only reason we're not on the run too is because of those filthy fucking pieces of paper that we're forced to tack onto the wall at the front of our shop in order to stay open. Why on earth would any of that bother us?"

He turned away from her and stirred the cauldron again. She realized her mouth was open.

"I... I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"You thought we were in our little bubble of noise and clashing colours, blissfully unaware of the world around us? Thanks, Ange."

She bit her lip. Why was it that, even though she was the one who'd ditched him, he could still make her feel like this?

"I'm sorry."

"Did you know Remus Lupin's on the run too?" He sprinkled some multi-coloured flecks into the cauldron. "Yeah, his wife's about to have a baby, but he's had to go to ground again. Turns out all werewolves are supposed to be working for You-Know-Who, so he's trying to stay one step ahead of what he calls 'the Death Eater's Pound.' Might not even be there for the birth. Wonderful world we're all living in."

The door opened abruptly. "So I said to the naked lady with the salami in her hand, 'That's a duck, not a chicken,'" George was saying as he and Lee came into the workroom, and Lee laughed.

"Oh not that one again, George!" Fred groaned.

"Oi, I was right about the Weller display, by the way," said George.

"Didn't sell?"

George shook his head. "Told you. It was Sigmund."

"Sigmund shouldn't've made any difference, though, if it didn't-"

"-which it did-"

"-but when we charmed it-

"-twice-"

"-it wouldn't've gone 634 on us-"

"You're still doing Potterwatch, then?" Angelina asked Lee as the twins devolved into incomprehensible shop talk. Or rather, twin talk, because their shorthand didn't need to have anything to do with their business to be incomprehensible to anybody but Lee.

"Yeah, though we've been off for a bit. Almost got raided a few weeks ago."

"Yeah, we were wondering what was going on. Next password's still Albus, isn't it?"

"Yeah. You listen?"

"Whenever we can. All of us do at the clinic."

Lee looked thrilled. "Our next broadcast's this weekend." He beamed at her. "Great to know we've got listeners. Makes it seem worthwhile, you know?"

"I dunno what I would've done without it, these last few months. Seems like the world's gone to hell and most people are just going right along with it."

"Not all of us."

Angelina nodded, then looked closer at him. "I didn't know you needed glasses."

"These? Oh they're fake," he said, and took them off. It was astonishing how his appearance altered without them. "They make me look like I'm practically blind, but they're actually perfectly clear."

"You're trying to not be recognized, then?"

"Yeah, have been for a while now."

"Have a price on your head too?"

"No, and it's a little insulting. I'm a bona fide troublemaker, I am, and it's demeaning to know that I'm only 'wanted for questioning about persons of interest.' Tells me I'm not doing enough to - oi!" Lee scowled at George, who had just cuffed him on the back of the head.

"Don't be so bloody eager to be worth a large bounty, Jordan," George said irately. "Get stupid enough about it and I'll hand you in myself and pocket the reward."

"You already almost got taken in by that raid-" Fred said.

"They were going to take all our equipment!"

"Told you we'd replace it, you berk," said Fred. "What's the bloody point of making loads of Galleons if you can't use it to fund a rebellion?"

"Yeah, yeah," Lee muttered, and Angelina chuckled at his put-upon, but pleased, expression.

There was a short pause. "Right. Well, we're off, then," said George.

"We are?" Lee asked, surprised.

"You don't have to go," Fred muttered.

"Yeah, we do," said George.

"We do?" Lee asked.

"Almost nine; closing time. Have to shoo the last customers out."

"But I thought Verity - oi!" Lee glared at George, then there was some kind of subtle interplay of kicks or something, and George and Lee were leaving the room, and Angelina could swear Fred was glaring daggers at George's back. She blinked and the moment was gone; Fred was looking just as cheerful as before.

"Sorry, Ange, I've still got to-"

"No, that's all right." She glanced around. "D'you mind if I have a look around?"

"What? Oh yeah, looking's all right." He paused for a moment, frowning in thought. "Yeah. Yeah, it's definitely all right to look, we've got the Gorgon-paste in the cupboard with the goggles now."

Angelina took a closer look around the bizarre place. The cupboards were decidedly off-limits, then, but the shelves sported boxes and boxes of ingredients, sorted by colour, it seemed, with ingredients stacked loudest on top, quietest on the bottom. The work tables were a riot of products in various stages of completion.

"What's this?" She nodded at a stack of odd crispy cakes on one table.

Fred looked up. "Elephant Ears. American thing, it's a pastry. Ours make you actually grow ears. Not quite ready; we can't get rid of the weird wrinkled-skin side-effect. Oh and the uncontrolled trumpeting's funny, but a bit of a nuisance too. Too loud."

"What are you working on?"

"Right now? Trying to get our bloody Lovebirds to not shit all over the place. We've got them to sing out really, really horrible love songs - don't ever tell Mum, but we used Celestina Warbreck for inspiration - but they shit copiously. It's quite disgusting. We're playing with the singing potion, adding in a bit of U-No-Poo and hoping it does the trick."

Angelina laughed. Her life seemed so much less exciting. Not that the Healers and sheep weren't nice, but this, this was... this was magic. She felt a pang of longing.

"What's in that one?" she pointed to a potion bubbling slowly two cauldrons down.

"Edible lightning scars. They sell really well, though George thinks they might really piss off Harry when he gets back." He stepped back from the cauldron and started chopping what looked like small butterfly wings. "It's one of the products we're not advertising much. It's hard for the Ministry to say anything about them though, because there's nothing overtly wrong with them; they're not fomenting rebellion or anything. We've got a few others like that."

"Like what?"

"Well, Mad-Eyes - Insane Orbs, we call them. Edible. Make you bark out 'Eternal Paranoia.' They're not big sellers, but we figured, you know, out of respect for the man, we'd keep them on the shelf for a while." He peered at his cauldron for a moment before adding more wings.

"What are these?" Angelina pointed to a part of a work table that looked somewhat neater than most, with dozens of tiny multi-coloured frosted fairy cakes and tarts on trays. Fred glanced back.

"George's. Nearly ready to go, mostly." He brought his attention back to the cauldron as it let out a long hiss.

"Nearly?"

"Yeah, they're - well, George's been wanting to get into an adult line for a while now, so he's been working on some rather unusual things. Not all of it's all that risqué, just... you know. Singing underwear, things like that. Some of them are funny as hell, but not anything we can really tell Mum about. Though he did end up with a few that aren't naughty at all." He glanced back at her, grinned. "I wouldn't get too close to that one," he said, nodding at the small pink tart she'd picked up. "You don't need it, for one thing."

"Why not?"

"That's supposed to, erm, enhance you if you're a girl. George swears he's worked out the bugs, but..." he chuckled. "See, last week he had the worst time trying to fix the effects on one of our testers." Angelina raised her eyebrows and Fred grinned. "They were big, they were pretty, and they were rock solid."

"Oh God."

"And they weighed a ton. George couldn't stop laughing. She wasn't amused. He offered to pay her extra for the pain and suffering and I think that would've been all right with her if he hadn't been still pissing himself giggling as he handed over the Galleons. Pretty sure we've lost her as a tester."

"You don't say."

"Another one turns you into a hell of a handsome bloke with a tackle the size of a Beater's bat, or into a goose. Possibly a turkey. He hasn't worked out all the kinks yet. Not that the whole thing isn't kinky, but you know what I mean." He glanced back. "The ones on that tray are all ready to go, just need marketing."

"The fairy cakes?"

"Yeah." He grinned at her. "Give one a try."

"I'm really not stupid enough to try anything from you two. Especially if it hasn't even been out in the market yet."

"Your distrust wounds me. I'll take one too, then." Fred grinned, holding out his hand, still watching the bubbling cauldron. "Come on, I dare you."

Bloody hell, she was going to regret this. She usually did, when it came to Fred and George.

No, she didn't. That was the stupid thing. All the shit they'd pulled, and she still couldn't remember any of it without a smile.

She picked up two of the tiny frosted fairy cakes - white, she really didn't trust the lurid green frosting on some of them - and handed one to Fred. He grinned, still watching the cauldron bubble. "Ready?"

"I'm an idiot. But yeah, ready."

"One, two, three," he said, and they both ate their fairy cakes in one bite.

They were slightly mint-flavoured, she had time to notice, before a siren went off and the door to the workroom door suddenly slammed shut.

"What the-" Fred jerked up, eyes wide.

"What the hell is that?" Angelina asked, and something was wrong, something was very wrong, she was tingling all over and the door had slammed shut and both of those things would've been perfectly fine, except that whatever had just happened, Fred had not been expecting it.

"What just happened?"

Fred glanced at her. "I don't - your voice." He cleared his throat, hummed briefly. "Oh bloody hell. Angelina, what did you just give me?"

"One of these!" She showed him, and Fred closed his eyes.

"Bugger."

"What happened?" The odd tingling was getting worse, oh God, what was happening to her- "Why did the siren-"

"You all right in there?" George's voice came through the door.

"Yeah," Fred said, sounding annoyed. "Just took the wrong product."

"Which one?"

"One of yours." He glanced at the tray on the counter. "G11-5."

"Why did-"

"I told Angelina the ones on the tray were safe. Didn't see there were unfinished ones there too. "

Angelina frowned. "I didn't-"

"No, my fault, sorry. White-coloured products are not quite ready. Should've told you."

"Oh! Hang on, can you write down what's going on?" George said.

"Right." Fred searched for a bit and found a parchment and quill.

"What are you looking for?" Angelina asked, Fred's annoyance calming her down a bit. "Why is the door closed?"

"Don't worry about that," Fred said absently, tossing aside the quill after it emitted a loud fart sound and picking up another one that sighed happily. "It does that automatically whenever we're testing. Some of our experiments get a little dangerous. Lost too much inventory that way in the first few months; either they escaped and caused havoc in the shop, or we did." He rifled through the drawer for some ink. "Now when we test, the door closes automatically, till the effect of the product goes away or is counteracted." He found a bottle of ink and filled his quill.

"Fred?" George asked.

"So it'll open up as soon as we take the antidote?" Angelina asked, feeling a bit better.

"Got a quill, ask away!" Fred called out to George. "Yeah, of course. We never test anything without the antidote ready."

Angelina nodded.

Tingling. Heat. And an odd sense of... change. Or something.

"Snape, great git that he is, has to be given credit: he did teach antidotes well. Anyway." Fred cleared his throat. "Ready!"

"Right, so, what are the effects?"

"Erm." Fred looked at Angelina, seeming at a bit of a loss for words.

"How d'you feel?" George prompted him.

"This is one of your adult line, isn't it?"

"G11-5? Yeah, the whole 11 set is."

"Yeah, see," Fred ran a hand through his hair. "I thought we were taking the voice-change ones."

"That was 11-15."

"Right. Well. Erm. Feeling a bit, erm..."

"Randy?" George laughed.

Fred laughed. "Yeah. Just a bit."

Angelina closed her eyes. Wonderful. Just wonderful. Now that she was able to think about it without fearing that she was about to die a horrible death, that was indeed what the tingling felt like. "This is a love potion, then?" she asked George.

"No, those are different," George chuckled. "He wouldn't feel anything physical then."

"Erm. I'm..." Angelina trailed off, suddenly aware of something else that felt very, very wrong. "Fred, turn around."

He looked puzzled, but turned around, and she opened her trousers and looked down.

Oh God.

She had a penis.

"Fred?" George prompted him. "Feeling any nausea?"

"No, hang on, Angelina's checking something."

There was a small silence. "Oh fuck. Angelina, you didn't take one, did you?" George asked.

"Yeah," she said flatly, still staring down at herself.

"Ah." George cleared his throat. "All right. Sorry, totally unexpected side effect on that one. Would not have wanted you to try it out. It'll go away, I swear."

"What will?" Fred asked. He paused for a moment. "Oh Merlin this wasn't the one with the-"

"Yeah."

Fred groaned.

"What?" Lee asked.

George chuckled. "Erm, side-effect I'm trying to get rid of. Turns girls into boys." There was a guffaw from Lee. "Well, not totally. Just gives them boy bits along with their own girl bits. Have been thinking of marketing them as that; Hermafrosts or something. Still need fine-tuning; either get rid of the girl bits, or get rid of the massive stiffie effect."

"Feeling a bit frisky, then, Angelino?" Lee asked, laughing.

Angelina did up her trousers, her face flaming.

She was going to kill George. And Fred. And Lee, who was howling with laughter. Kill them all.

She had a penis. A distressingly fully functional penis.

Kill. Them.

"What's it do to men?" Lee asked.

"Just the stiffie."

"'Just,' he says." Fred grimaced, adjusting himself. "Thanks. Thanks a million, George. Well, this isn't awkward at all."

"OK, so how else d'you-"

"George, not really interested in doing more observations right now," Fred said tightly. "Where's the antidote?"

George laughed. "You're no fun. This could be a real chance to bond. You show her yours if she'll show you-"

"George!"

"Second drawer."

Fred shot Angelina an apologetic look and opened the drawer. "George, where's the antidote?" he asked after a moment.

"Second drawer, I said." There was a pause. "Oh, shit. I forgot, I ran out last night."

Fred blew out his breath. "Wonderful. How long does it take to brew it?"

"About an hour. Instructions in the drawer."

"Wonderful. Thanks. This is lovely. That's a whole day's work down the drain, because I'll have to stop the work I was doing in order to make this stupid antidote." He glanced at the ingredients, shifting slightly to adjust himself again. "Bugger, and doing it like this, too... hard to concentrate." He paused. "How long does the effect last?"

"Haven't tested for longevity yet. Theoretically... erm, should be about sixteen hours."

Oh shit.

"Brilliant." Fred wasn't looking at her, and his face was looking a bit rosy. "Waiting it out is not an option, then."

"Well, best get on it," George said apologetically. "You know it wasn't supposed to be tested, though."

"Right." Fred started to gather the ingredients. "Where's the shrivelfig?"

"Isn't there a package of it under the counter?"

"No. I told you we were out a week ago."

There was a profound silence.

"George."

Silence.

Fred walked to the door. "Please tell me you got more shrivelfig."

More silence.

"Oh, fuck." Fred leaned against the door. "No. Please tell me you didn't forget."

"Erm... I forgot."

"Oh my God." Fred slid down to the floor and sat down heavily.

Angelina frowned. "Wait, what? The door won't open until this wears off or you brew the antidote, and you don't have the ingredients for the antidote?"

"That pretty much sums it up, yeah," George said apologetically.

"Are you fucking insane? Who the hell came up with this idea?" Briefly Angelina wondered if the Hermafrost had gifted her with extra testosterone along with the penis, because she was definitely feeling a rather manly urge to throttle somebody.

Then again, that was all too often a perfectly natural reaction to being around the twins.

"Look, if a tester's in mortal danger it'll open," George said. "And it's worked so far for us-"

"What time does the Apothecary open?" asked Lee.

"Eight," said Fred and George.

"That's in twelve hours!" Angelina exclaimed.

"Why the hell did you have the thing on the countertop without the antidote or even the ingredients to make it?" Fred asked.

"Well I didn't think you'd be handing them out to anybody when they were-"

"Is there any way of getting rid of the effects?" Angelina broke in.

There was another pause. "Other than having sex, no," George said.

"We can't... you know, wank it away?" Angelina could feel her face flaming.

"No," said Fred. "That's part of its charm. Charming, isn't it?" He crossed his arms on his knees and put his head down.

"Which is part of why they're not ready for market yet," George said defensively. "They'll come with the antidote and the idea is nobody'll take them without the antidote nearby, but just in case they do, I don't want anybody to be in pain or anything. I'm trying to make sure the effect lasts no more than an hour, no matter what you do or don't do."

"This is unbelievable!" groaned Angelina.

"They're not ready for market!" George protested.

Fred lifted his head and took a deep breath. "Would I be right that in Angelina's case, that means her brand new... equipment would have to be put to use?"

"Yeah, pretty much," said George, and Fred dropped his face into his arms again.

"Merlin, George," said Lee. "Quite the cock-up you've made here."

"Not all that funny, Lee," Fred said tightly.

"I'm sorry!" George said. "Bugger. I'm seriously sorry."

"Yeah, bugger. Good choice of word, mate," said Lee. "Bugger is what she's going to have to do if she doesn't want to spend the next twelve hours in there with a rock-hard-"

"I didn't think-"

"Which is why you have lab rules, George, come on!"

"But-"

"All right, new rule," Fred interrupted, his head still on his crossed arms and his voice slightly muffled. "How's this?" He cleared his throat. "Anyone who's not currently locked in the bloody work room contemplating twelve hours of painful blue balls versus losing his virginity and/or having his ex-girlfriend bugger him, and, more importantly," he lifted his head, "is also responsible for putting someone else in that unenviable position because he FUCKING WELL FORGOT TO BUY THE FUCKING ANTIDOTE INGREDIENTS, doesn't get to talk." He paused. "How's that?"

There was a short silence.

"I think George would like me to tell you that that's an excellent new rule, and entirely fair," came Lee's cautious voice. "But I can't be sure about that, as he's not speaking."

"Good on George, then." Fred put his head on his arms again. "I may not have to kill him after we get out of here after all."

"I think George would like me to ask if you'd prefer he do the honours," Lee said.

"The honours?" asked Angelina.

"The George-killing, I think." There was a pause. "Yes, the George-killing. We can take care of that for you, if you'd like. If it'll make you feel any better."

"I think George is not so much offering out of a desire for atonement," said Fred through gritted teeth. "He's offering because he's a bloody coward. Because he doesn't know what I'm going to do to him when I get out of here, but he knows it won't be pretty. I think if anybody's going to kill George, it should be me."

"Would you like us to have things ready for you? Sharp knives, perhaps?" There was a pause. "Dull knives? Other untested products?"

"Why don't you two go look up virgin sacrifices? They're supposedly wickedly powerful; I'll start a new line of defence products powered by the magic from doing him in. Seeing as how I may not qualify as a virgin any more, thanks to him, and that's probably a sentence none of us should repeat out of context."

"Admirably fair and most reasonable, George thinks. And shrewdly practical, from a business perspective."

"Good on George."

"We're off to look up virgin sacrifices, then. And possibly conjure an altar."

"Good idea." Fred sat back against the wall and glanced at Angelina apologetically. "Angie, this is really, really not what I had in mind when I dared you to test those things."

"Yeah, I gathered." Angelina cleared her throat and came to sit down next to Fred, realizing as she did so that she was hyper sensitized to her own body. And hyper aware of his. Might have been a lovely feeling, had she actually asked for it. "Look, this isn't going to... damage us, is it? If we don't..."

"Don't ask me, I'm not the perv who invented the stupid things. I thought they were just going to change our voices. Was not anticipating a stiffie so hard it could drill through the bloody floor." He glanced at her groin. "Especially not on you."

"Well you two have been dealing in love potions for years, haven't you? You must know-"

"Love potions. The kind that make you spout blither about undying devotion and compare your darling's eyes to fresh pickled toads. Not turn you into a walking erection. Told you, these are brand new." He glanced at her groin again. "That's really rather impressive, you know. If I wasn't bloody intimidated by it, I'd be incredibly envious." He sighed. "And if I was wired differently I might even be all anticipatory right now." He frowned, pursed his lips. "Hm. That's an idea, now that I think of it, changing sexual orientation... maybe a line of sweets to turn folks... Gaybars? Poofballs? No, that sounds insulting. Maybe charmed knick-knacks: Bicurios."

"Fred, I'm serious," Angelina said impatiently. "We're not going to be damaged if we don't do it, are we?"

"I don't think so." He shrugged. "Look, I can't say for sure, but I really don't think so. It's just going to be ruddy uncomfortable until we get the antidote." He ran a hand through his hair. "I am so seriously going to kill George."

"This feels so incredibly..." She drew her knees up, mirroring Fred's position, suppressing a moan as her knickers pressed against her straining flesh. "Feels like my whole bloodflow is right there. It's all I can think of."

"Welcome to ages thirteen through eighteen for your average boy."

"What about you?" she glanced down quickly, looked away.

"Uncomfortable." He cleared his throat, shifted slightly. "Very."

"You're sure we... you know... can't take care of these? Erm... individually?"

"Don't think so. I mean, you're welcome to try, I'll even turn around so you can have some privacy - or I can show you how, if you'd rather." He leered at her. "Give you a helping hand, as it were. But it wouldn't surprise me if it doesn't go away like that. Apparently the point of them is you stay hard until you satisfy your lover. Don't think it counts if your lover is yourself."

"You know, it's funny," Angelina said, closing her eyes and laying her head back against the wall. "When I came into the shop I was remembering all the reasons we went out. And wondering why we broke up." She heaved a sigh. "It's all coming back to me now."

Fred snorted. "Thanks, Angie. You always know how to bring a note of cheer into even the worst situation."

Angelina opened her eyes and glared at him. "Well excuse me if I don't care to end up in ridiculous situations like this every other day. You could've labelled the products properly."

"Told you, they're test products. We know what they are based on the colour of-"

"Well I didn't know, did I?"

"Wasn't expecting you to be in here. Or change your mind about which fairy cakes to try."

"You could've stopped to think about the fact that I didn't know your system. You could've thought of looking to see what you were putting in your mouth."

"You could try to hear the fact that I've apologized already," Fred said dryly. "Besides, I had to watch my potion."

Angelina blew out her breath in annoyance. "This is just..." she shifted again, stifled another moan. It was like everything between her legs was on fire. "Twelve hours?"

"Till they get the shrivelfig and brew up the antidote." Fred closed his eyes, blew out his breath slowly. "Going to kill him..."

"Have you ever tested this one before?"

"No, it's George's"

"So how did he ever get rid of the effect? If he's never..."

"Antidote. As for the other way of getting rid of it, we have testers."

"How do you know if it was harmful when your testers didn't have sex?"

"We don't. But it's not supposed to do you any harm. We've become a lot more careful and responsible than we used. All current evidence to the contrary," he said, with a rueful glance at his lap.

They were silent for a few moments.

"I didn't know you were still a virgin," Angelina said quietly.

Fred glanced at her. "We're running a business. Not a lot of opportunities for dating. I wasn't joking when I said we're both usually in bed by eleven and bloody exhausted. And I'd say we were 'all shagged out,' but ironically, that is why we're not."

"I didn't know." Angelina paused. "George, too?"

Fred nodded.

"You know there's plenty of girls who'd give a lot to go out with either one of you."

Fred chuckled. "Oh, we've dated. Casually. There was this lovely Muggle girl from the village near the Burrow, and George had a thing going with one of the sales assistants at Eeylops. But, you know, it's not a good time for anything else."

"I suppose not." Angelina thought for a moment. This was probably not a good topic, considering how she was feeling, and how he was probably feeling too. "It's just rare. Most blokes would just take whoever it was to bed right away, if they could."

"Suppose so."

"You're waiting till you're married, then?"

Fred shrugged. "Till the right time," he said uncomfortably. "Right person." He ran a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell, this is stupid. I can't even work on the potions I was working on."

"Why not?"

"It's just better not to, when there's unpredictable magic around. We don't usually test without setting up wards first. Here, hang on, I'm going to turn things off."

Angelina watched as he turned the fire off underneath his cauldron, started neatly labelling everything and putting it away.

"What about your brother's wedding?"

"What about it?"

"Weddings are usually... well, you know. Great places to meet people. Especially if you're in the wedding party. And I'm assuming there were some Veela there?"

"Fleur's cousins?" Fred smiled and his eyes went a bit unfocussed. "Yeah, a few..."

Angelina waited, but Fred seemed lost in a happy reverie. "I take it you pulled."

"Both did," Fred said dreamily. "They were so unbelievably..."

"So what did... you know, what happened?"

"You know," he mused, "we always thought Harry and Ron were funny kids, the way they got all silly over Fleur. But Merlin, one hour with Claudine..."

"Was that her name?" Angelina pressed her lips together and wrestled down the utterly inappropriate spurt of jealousy. "What happened?"

"Sadly, not as much as one would expect. What with the wedding being raided and all. Though I suppose I should be grateful that I didn't arrive at the safe house starkers, because Mum Apparated to the same place and that would've been awkward, to say the least."

"So you were a perfect gentleman, then?" Angelina said sceptically. "With a Veela?"

Fred laughed out loud. "Oh Godric. Ah, no. I'm not the saint-like one, you know. George is."

Angelina's eyebrows went up. "He's holey. You know, his ear." Angelina groaned and Fred sniggered. "Not my joke, believe me, though I'll admit, it was pretty good considering the blood loss he'd just suffered. No, I didn't exactly resist. And neither did Saint George. Just didn't... you know."

"Why not?"

Fred blinked. "I'd just met her." Angelina nodded, knowing Derek would've had no qualms about that. "Look... would it make sense not to have... you know, with you, and then hop into bed with a Veela cousin-in-law who I'd never met? Particularly considering that there was no bed around." He took a flask and filled it with part of the unfinished potion, then put it away.

"Well... you're older now."

"What, at nineteen you officially get desperate enough to fuck anything that'll hold still long enough?" He laughed. "Sorry to disappoint." He tapped the edge of the cauldron and the rest of his potion disappeared, and he started to wipe down the inside of the cauldron, his lips still curved in a small smile.

A happy memory, then. She wondered what he and George had looked like, in formal robes for their brother's wedding. What the unknown Veelas had looked like, what they'd thought of the twins. If Fred had kissed Claudine the same way he'd kissed Angelina. Just how far he'd gone with Claudine...

She pushed her pointless musing aside and watched him finish tidying. "You're a lot more meticulous than I ever thought," she mused. "Your room was always such an incredible pigsty."

"There's no profit in keeping your room clean and tidy. Workroom? Can't get along without it."

Angelina nodded and shifted slightly.

"You all right?" he asked.

"Uncomfortable," she said.

"Being busy helps."

"Can I do anything?"

"Erm... yeah, actually, you could go through that drawer - don't worry, those are all formulas and recipes - and alphabetize them."

"Why not use a spell to do that?"

"Believe it or not, some of them hide when we do that. No idea how." He rubbed a hand across his face. "Hungry?"

"There's something to eat here that won't kill me?"

"Plenty. We've been caught here before, you know. Some of our products have antidotes that don't work for a few hours." Fred pulled on the door of one of the storage cupboards and it swivelled around, revealing a sink with a small shelf full of food above it. He rummaged around a bit. "Last time I was stuck here was last month, I think. Damn, knew I'd forgotten to get more dried fruit. Oh, George got chocolates." He held one out to Angelina, who stared at it suspiciously. "Don't worry, honestly, there's nothing magical in any of these. We wouldn't risk wonky reactions with experimental products."

Angelina took the chocolate cautiously.

"And we've got a loo on the back wall, and there's even beds to sleep in, in one of the cupboards."

"You've thought of everything."

"There's also books, novels, a few Daydream Charms - those probably aren't a good idea right now though. And we've got cards and some board games."

"Board games. Wonderful." She rubbed her forehead, trying to keep her mind on the many distractions and keep a positive attitude, willing herself to ignore the by-now-unpleasant feel of her... erection.

Well. This was a first. For the first time ever, she did regret, most wholeheartedly, having taken the Weasley twins up on a dare.

It was going to be a long, long night.