Weasley Twins Oneshots & Imagines

It Takes Two (G.W.)

"Fred! Bloody hell, can't you let me win just once?"

The common room was vibrating with chattering students. Across the table from you sat Fred with a rather smug look painted onto his face as if to say, Won again! You huffed dramatically; you'd been trying this entire term to beat him in a game of exploding snap and had yet to do so. You sulkily sank back into the couch and folded your arms across your chest, all while Fred just sat across from you and laughed. Just then, George plopped down next to you and thrust a goblet that was filled to the brim into your hands.

"Are you giving me this because I've lost to your git of a brother for the millionth time this year and need some reconciling?" You lowered your voice and your eyes to the goblet, the insides of it swirling with Gryffindor-deep crimson reds and oranges, the liquid that would course through your veins like a rapid fire.

"What're you on about?" George asked, a sly smile creeping onto his face, "that's butterbeer."

You knew by the colour alone and the sheer burn in the back of your throat when you swallowed that it was definitely not butterbeer. Your eyes began to water at the sting. "Mhmm,"

"To answer your question, Y/N," Fred dragged your name out a little bit longer than you would have liked, but he just adored teasing you, didn't he? You narrowed your eyes at him as he relaxed back into the armchair, bringing the goblet of firewhisky to his lips, "no, I can't let you win just once, I reckon. That wouldn't be fair." He then took a too-big-to-handle gulp, and began to cough from the burn of the alcohol.

"Fred, I swear to Merlin, could you be any less subtle, you idiot?" George sneered at his twin, grabbing for the goblet which Fred held above his head. George just sighed. "Can't let the prefects see I've snuck this in."

You giggled and shoved him. "Oh, you mean, your brother?"

The three of you peered across the common room to see Ron, Harry, Hermione and Ginny chatting away, Ron and Hermione's shiny Prefects badges glistening on their robes. You shoved George playfully when he began to laugh.

"What? Ron wouldn't tell. He's too scared of us. It's Hermione I'm worried about."

You clinked your goblet with his and then with Fred's and wiggled your eyebrows at the both of them. "Well then, boys, best make sure she doesn't see, yeah?"

The three of you threw back more gulps and you reckoned it probably wasn't the smartest thing to do, but the buzz of the party was making you abandon all logical thoughts.

You jumped up in surprise to find yourself still in your uniform from yesterday, but somehow tucked comfortably underneath the covers in your four poster. There were two perfect seconds where everything was fine and wonderful and lovely, until the haze above you lifted and you felt the very obnoxious thumping in your head when you turned toward your window and the sunlight nearly blinded you. Groaning, you pulled the covers back over your eyes and stayed in the dark until one of your mates began to yell that you were going to be late for breakfast.

You changed into new robes and tried to tame the wild animal that was your hair, but it was really no use, so you settled for pulling it back without accentuating your migraine. Sullenly, you dragged yourself away from bed, through the portrait hole, and down the steps toward the Great Hall.

It was all coming back in fuzzy little increments, wasn't it? Last night. You grimaced when you remembered dancing and singing and playing exploding snap and giggling like mad all evening, like a little schoolgirl. The room had been buzzing with excited students and everyone was thoroughly enjoying their Sunday evening, despite the fact that Monday morning lessons loomed in the distance. Everything seemed to be better after some firewhisky, right? Blimey. The firewhisky. No wonder you had such an awful headache! That's the last time you'd ever listen to Fred and George and -- oi. Bloody hell. Fred and George.