NOIR - [Fred Weasley]

04. Trouble at The Wench

✻ When he beats her ass at pool.

Harry stared desperately at the clock in the Weasley household, as he tried to will the seconds to go by faster. He had been terribly nervous the entire day, a gut feeling in his stomach trying to warn him that things were going to go so wrong. He could practically feel the envelope burning a whole through his jacket. Its weight suddenly heavy, as if he was carrying a bag of books instead.

Along with Ron and Hermione — all dressed in Muggle clothes — they had been waiting at the Weasley kitchen for at least half an hour. The twins were supposed to apparate there and together they'd floo over to their destination — since all three wizards were too young to apparate.

"So, what time are we leaving?" asked Harry impatiently, his foot bouncing up an down in an effort to calm his nerves.

"Fred and George are probably going to be here any second..." answered Ron, but Hermione was quick to cut him off, probably as nervous as Harry about their upcoming trip.

"How are we going to get from here to downtown London?" she asked and a loud crack signalled her question being answered.

"That..."

"...our dear Hermione..."

"... is an excellent question." chorused the twins as they apparated in front of the tree sixteen-year-olds.

Harry couldn't help but notice that they were dressed slightly differently than what they were used to. Instead of their signature magenta and orange colours — curtesy of the official logo of WWW — they now sported a darker attire. Instead of wanting to make their presence known immediately as always, they looked as if they wanted to become one with the dark alleys of downtown London.

"We'll floo over to a friend's house and walk from there." explained Fred as he went straight for the fireplace, searching for the small box of floo powder.

"Freddie and I usually apparate somewhere around the area anyways whenever we visit 'The Lair'." continued George.

"Can't you apparate straight inside?" questioned Hermione, a sceptical look still on her face.

"Nah..." mumbled Fred. "Only locals are allowed to do that. Plus, it'd be rude to just apparate in someone's home without asking."

"And if anything, we pride ourselves on being real gentlemen." smirked George as he puffed his chest out, his brother quick to imitate him and offer some advice.

"Now, there are a couple of rules when going to 'Hestia's Lair'." warned Fred, staring directly to Harry and his friends.

"Stay out of trouble..."

"...Stay close..."

"...Keep your nose clean..."

"...And hold the staring to a minimum." finished Fred as the familiar glint of the mischief maker returned to his eyes.

"Why would we stare? Is the place that terrible?" questioned Hermione, but the older Weasley twin wasn't fazed by her question.

"Oh, quite the opposite actually."

● ♛ ●

The first thing that came to Harry's mind as soon as he arrived at the foreign fireplace was one word; dust. Fred had gone first, Harry choosing to go second, though he terribly regretted it. To call that place filthy would be an understatement.

The floo network had led the boy to an abandoned apartment — probably somewhere in London — that looked as if no one had lived there for years. For Godrick's sake, Grimmauld Place seemed cleaner than that place. Most of the furniture was covered in white sheets — though they had turned grey as the time flew by. Dozens of cardboard boxes were scattered around — most of them either half burned of ripped open — and let's not forget the mice that Harry could swear saw walking by the walls.