Mischief Managed
“You seeing this, Gred?”
“Impossible odds, indeed, Forge.”
The two Weasley twins were, as usual, up to no good. After all, when does mischief ever need rest? The boys were staked out leaning nonchalantly against an icicle blue tabletop, while pointedly not staring at their target for the evening a measly 2 tables away.
“Well Gred, we all have our dragons to slay.”
“Indubitably, my dear Forge- this beast is truly a worthy opponent.”
Two sly gazes glance at each other in amusement before the slightly shorter brother cuts a look at the coveted punch bowl, stroking a finger over the hidden pocket in his dress robes. The clever boys had of course brought a potion of their own creation- such brilliant lads we are, he thinks smugly- but there was one major obstacle stopping them from reaching their prize.
One greasy haired, brilliant-but-you’d-never-hear-them-say-so Dungeon Bat.
Lurking.
Greasily.
Damn Snape, Fred thinks, exchanging a loaded look with his other half, can’t take the night off from being an utter snakey twat. Fred and George had planned this whole escapade with the belief of Snape being too dour and surely to even consider coming to the Yule Ball- what with it being riddled with children and hormones. Two things Snape decidedly abhors from the deep, dark depths of his soul.
Well then, Fred thinks with a cocky smirk, there’s nothing else for it.
“Plan B, Gred?”
“Plan B it is, Forge,” George replies, throwing back the disappointingly normal punch in one swig and putting the empty cup on the table behind him with a flourish. He states, with great aplomb in a loud voice, “Suppose it’s off to the loo then.”
As his twin leaves with head held back, nose in the air in the perfect imitation of one Percy Weasley, Fred takes his time scanning the crowd in search of a reason to meander closer to their ultimate goal. He can hardly wait; he simply needs to wait for George to set off their distraction. Once that’s done, he can finally unload the precious potion and watch the fun ensue.
Fred spies Angelina and Katie Bell standing just one table from the refreshments and makes his way over to speak with his supposed date for the evening. Despite his rakish charm, he knew even before inviting Angelina to the Ball that she was pining for another. My foolish heart, he thinks tragically to himself, too soft for this world.
No, they had come simply as friends. After all, Fred was rather more attracted to… well, nothing Angelina could offer unfortunately. As great friends though, they’d danced a waltz then went their separate ways to mingle with the crowd. Angelina suspected the Twins would be up to some mischief, but aside from a longsuffering huff and good-natured eye roll, she left them be.
“Angelina, my love, my life!” Fred exclaims dramatically, calling the attention of Angelina and Katie Bell as well as a group of younger Slytherins loitering nearby. “How could you abandon me at this auspicious occasion?!” He brings his hand to his chest in theatrical devastation, looking away with betrayal written across his face.
“Oh, do shut up Fred,” Angelina responds while pinching the bridge of her nose, “as though you and your little devil twin aren’t coming up with some prank as we speak. Surprised you’ve waited this long into the evening, honestly.”
“How could you accuse me of such things,” he responds gravely, looking scandalized, “I am the picture of propriety and the portrait of a model Wizard.”
“Sure you are,” snickers Katie Bell, always enjoying the twin’s shenanigans. “Who would think otherwise?”
“Where’s your matching ‘portrait of a model Wizard’ then, Fred?” Angelina takes a moment to scan the crowd, mild trepidation growing on her face. “It’s never a good sign to see one without the other.”
“Well,” Fred lowers his voice, “funny you should ask, because-”
Loud screams wrench through the air from the direction of the courtyard, as couples hurry back into the Great Hall, some with panic and others- mostly Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students- with bewilderment.
“Someone get Professor Flitwick, hurry!”
As expected, the Dungeon Bat goes to investigate the commotion with narrowed eyes and that fantastic swirl of his black dress robe. “What is the issue, Miss Edgecombe?”
“Someone’s spelled the Frog Choir to float out over the grounds, and they’re croaking out that ‘Stir my Cauldron’ song,” she says, progressively getting quieter, looking mortified at being able to identify the tune.
Snape, however, takes this in stride, quite literally. He marches toward the door and orders a Slytherin prefect nearby to take his post by the punch bowl.
Too late, Fred thinks gleefully, practically dancing away from the refreshment table. Mission successful! Now all Fred had to do was sit back and watch the confusion begin. Angelina had grabbed a giggling Katie Bell’s hand and pulled her deeper into the crowd at the first hint of yelling, leaving Fred to his gloriously open, unguarded treasure.
So distracted was Fred by his hawk-eyed vigilance of the punch that he didn’t notice a little ferret sneak up to his side.
“I saw everything, you know,” came a haughty voice behind Fred’s right shoulder, startling the redhead from his vigil.
Looking back, Fred gives the lithe blonde Slytherin an unimpressed frown, “Did you now?” He gives the Malfoy heir a slow look down, then back up, taking in his perfect posture and haughty stance. Arms crossed over palest blue, almost white robes complimenting his fair features and highlighting his grey eyes. Fred gives a fox smile and crowds a little closer to the other boy. Stepping into the blonde’s personal space, Fred thoroughly enjoys the light brush of color peaking on those high cheekbones. Bending closer to speak into the shorter boy's ear, Fred speaks lowly, “And just what is it you think you saw, little Lord?”
Sputtering slightly, Draco Malfoy responds with a glare and backs up a step, lifting his nose impossibly higher as he stares Fred in the eye, “Whatever that nonsense was by the drinks.” He waves an imperious hand toward the refreshment table, clearly expecting Fred to be cowed by his observations.
Draco Malfoy had expected to gain the upper hand in this situation. Draco Malfoy had thought this the perfect opportunity to get blackmail on an older Gryffindor. Draco Malfoy has expected the twin to react with some ounce of shame or fear.
Draco Malfoy was very wrong.
Never let it be said that Draco Malfoy can see past the end of his cute little pointed nose, Fred thinks with anticipation, enjoying the way the boy’s confidence was floundering the longer Fred simply maintained his fox grin. Fred takes a step closer, backing the blonde into a table until he was leaning back onto it, then lightly- because Fred would never trap someone in his arms, he has class- bookends the boy into the tabletop and establishes firm eye contact.
“And was there a reason you decided to come after me?” Fred says softly. “Surely you know my reputation by this point? My brother and I only prank tastefully you know.” He leans in a little more, putting their noses mere centimeters apart, “All in good fun, and well within the theme of this auspicious occasion.” He pulls back suddenly, not missing the way the blonde had been staring spellbound into Fred’s own baby blues.
Nor did he miss the way the blonde seemed to follow after him slightly, trying to maintain the close distance of their faces.
How interesting.
Fred returns to his cheery demeanor, giving Draco obvious whiplash with the quick changes of mood within the past few minutes. Grinning, Fred waves an arm out in invitation, gesturing to the refreshment table where the Slytherin prefect was giving himself a sip from his own fresh cup, alongside an ickle sweet Ravenclaw couple. “Come and judge for yourself, oh Great One.”
Draco huffs and glares at Fred, but curiosity causes him to stay by the redhead’s side- and Draco’s glad he did.
Draco draws in a gasp when he notices the exquisite blue wings that slowly unfurl, first behind the Ravenclaw boy, his date, and finally the prefect. The girl exclaims in delight, her date looking at her in confusion as she bodily grabs him and turns him to face away from her, only to crow with laughter when she glimpses her own Fae wings fluttering over her own shoulder. Twirling with joy, she turns her date back around and spins so he can admire the delicate lines and shades of blue.
“How-,” Draco turns to face Fred after watching in fascination as the burly prefect attempts to bat his wings away in disgust, “You made that? How?” He all but demanded.
“Ah-ah-ah,” Fred places his finger a hair's breadth from the boy’s lip, causing the haughty little Lordling to blush deeply, “Trade secret, can’t go giving away such brilliant discoveries for free.” Looking deeply satisfied with himself, Fred allows himself to assess the situation once again, giving himself a mental pat when noticing his fellow students crowding around the drink bowl. Though mostly girls at this point, he does notice that darling little Harrykins had managed to drag his Slytherin beau over to the table and acquire them both their own sets of wings. The Slytherin- Zabini, Fred believes- is watching indulgently as Harry turns this way and that, admiring the wings over his shoulder. Turning back to the blonde, he continues, “I will admit, it’s one of our more brilliant potions. The wings hold no weight or mass- complete illusions.” He leans in once more toward the Malfoy heir, “we’re thinking of making something similar for St. Valentine's Day- floating hearts or some such.”
At this point, the rowdy Slytherin- well, rowdy considering he’s a Slytherin, as they’re not the loudest lot- had turned fully to face Fred with a calculating look in his grey eyes. Though his blush had yet to fade fully, the boy extends out his hand, “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. The name is Heir Draco Malfoy of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy. You may call me Draco.”
Fred looks in bemusement for a moment at the boy’s hand, wondering what strange luck had brought this about. After all, his dad absolutely detested Lord Malfoy, and the feeling was decidedly mutual. Fred also recalls some vague complaints from Harry and Ron about little Malfoy throwing around taunts and insults relatively often. Though his little brothers- for Harry was certainly Fred and George’s youngest brother at this point- had not gone into much detail, they painted a picture of the blonde that indicated he would sooner snap his own wand than associate with a Weasley.
Well, never let it be said that Fred wasn’t a wee bit of a madman.
With an expansive gesture, Fred bows at the waist as though greeting a foreign king before straightening to take Draco’s hand. “Well, of course. I am Fredrick Weasley, esquire, at your service.” As Draco returns his handshake, Fred tightens his grip over the smaller, soft hand and pulls him close firmly. “And you may call me Fred, assuming you agree to leave me and mine alone.”
Unexpectedly, Draco looks mildly abashed at the assertion, seeming to debate with himself before deflating somewhat. Without attempting to release himself from Fred’s hold, Draco looks up at him through almost-white lashes, “I’d been meaning to speak with Potter, Granger and Weasl- Ron recently either way.” He bites his lip softly before explaining further, “Mother reminded me that Harry was her cousin’s godson, which for our lot is practically family… Mother also reprimanded me just a bit after a rather scathing letter from my own godfather, regarding my behavior toward Granger being uncouth.”
Fred raises an eyebrow, “Godfather?”
“Professor Snape,” Draco admits.
Fred tucks that tidbit away for later analysis, sensing the sincerity behind Draco’s words. “Well, see that you do. I don’t take kindly to bullying, even from such a cutie.” Here Fred winks at the tomato-red blonde before scanning the crowd for George. It was odd his twin hadn’t returned to his side yet. When Fred sees his mirror image observing the interaction from about halfway across the Great Hall, all he receives in a wink and a smirk from George. After Fred returns the gestures in kind, George turns away to his own pursuits of the evening, leaving Fred to his strange introduction.
“Well,” Fred exclaims with a clap, startling the blonde from his own thoughts and bringing his attention back to the older boy, “how about we go join the experiment, little Lord?” He holds out his arm in a gallant gesture, straightening his back and giving Draco a confident smile. “You can get a closer look at our brilliant invention.”
After a brief hesitation, Draco reaches out and tucks his hand into Fred’s arm. He offers a tentative smile before returning with his own show of bravado, “Of course, good sir. Only the finest drink for our first foray into polite society.”
Fred throws his head back with a cackle, enjoying the blonde’s willingness to match his drama. He throws the smirking Draco an endeared look before replying, “Anything for the little Lord.”