Entry tags:

*fic, character: fred weasley, character: george weasley, character: nymphadora tonks, community: rarepair_shorts, fandom: harry potter, genre: humor, genre: romance, gift, rating: pg-13, ship: fred/tonks, ship: fred/tonks/george

Constant Vigilance
Title: Constant Vigilance
Recipient: luvscharlie
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Fred/Tonks(/George?)
Prompt/Request: Tonks stumbles into Fred/George’s lap; witty Twin banter ensues
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 717
Summary: Blinking—sort of dazed-like—I manage to lift up my head, and find that I am being madly-grinned at. Which is a nice change, since Molly won’t let me help in the kitchen anymore, and all the other Order members sigh when I get anywhere near them. Apparently, everyone’s exasperated with me.
Author's Notes: for the rarepair_shorts wishlist event. Beta'd by captainpookey. It wasn't really supposed to turn out so threesome-ish, sorry!

Constant Vigilance

Bloody buggerin’—there’s no way to get around this place without skewering your feet on something, I swear! You’d think that with all the cleaning we’ve done round here, we’d have a little more to show for it.

Dodgy house, this is—Grimmauld Place. It’s no wonder Sirius ditched it as soon as he could.

You know, when good ol’ Aunt Walburga was more than just a portrait on the wall.

Speaking of which, there’s this umbrella stand nearby that I really, really don’t like, the creepy—whoops! I should probably watch where I’m going.

It’s late, and I know I should definitely be asleep, since I’ve got rounds in the morning. Mad-Eye’ll skin me alive if he finds me out of bed. I swear, he thinks he’s my mum, or something—and really, having one mum is enough.

So I’ve got to be sneaky. Discreet.

I AM STEALTH.

I AM—Oi! I wish people’d stop leaving those fake ear things out. They’re really creepy, especially when you accidentally step on ‘em.

Anyway, I’m only trying to get to the kitchen. I’m hungry, and it should be pretty close by. At least, close enough to risk getting the Wrath of Mad-Eye—bless his grisly heart.

I get down the stairs without any problems, which is fantastic, considering how dark it is, and I’m about to go into the hallway when I realize that there’s a light on. In the kitchen. Where I’m headed off to, in case you’ve forgotten.

Then I hear laughing.

Well, that rules out Mad-Eye, then. And if there’s laughter—in this house, leastways—then I won’t be needing my wand.

Which I’ve conveniently left upstairs, anyway.

But! As a good Auror is always prepared, I’m ready to dart right up to my room and find it on a moment’s notice.

CONSTANT VIGILANCE.

I decide to take a casual approach on entering the kitchen, to make it look like I’m supposed to be there. No one will question my nonchalance, for we are one, a team, walking hand-in-hand through—

“AAAARRRGH!” I cry as I trip in the doorway and fall gracelessly onto something soft-ish.

I think… Hmm… I think this may be a lap.

“AAAARRRGH!” cries the owner of said lap.

It seems I’ve successfully executed the Element of Surprise.

After a shocked silence, I hear two uncannily identical laughs.

Ah. I’ve landed in the clutches of the Weasley twins, then.

“Well, Tonks,” says one.

“It’s nice of you to drop in,” finishes the other.

I don’t know which is which yet, since my face is currently buried in one of their chest-like areas—y’know, around there… maybe…

To clarify, I did manage to land right-side up.

Blinking—sort of dazed-like—I manage to lift up my head, and find that I am being madly-grinned at. Which is a nice change, since Molly won’t let me help in the kitchen anymore, and all the other Order members sigh when I get anywhere near them. Apparently, everyone’s exasperated with me.

“Wotcher, boys,” I say pleasantly, and then scrutinize them both until I determine whose lap I’m in. (It’s Fred’s.)

“Been sneakin’ out?” George asks slyly.

“Oh-so-sneaky-like?” Fred croons.

“Got a loooooooooverrr?” they chorus together.

“’Cause we’ll find out, you know.” George looks at me in all seriousness.

“Jealous types, we are,” Fred whispers in my ear. I squirm.

“Him more so than me,” George amends, glancing at his brother. “I’d like to think—”

“You’d like to think—”

“—that I’m the adult in this relationship.”

“Bah, grown-ups.” Fred sticks out his tongue—or at least, I think he does; I can’t exactly see him, what with him technically being behind me.

George pretends to look hurt. “Grown-ups?” he repeats, scandalized. “Nobody said anything about growing up. I just happen to be slightly less immature.”

Fred grabs me round the middle and hoists me up, so that I’m sitting more comfortably. “More fun for me, then,” he declares, and he purrs at me. Huskily. How can purring sound so—well, it makes you rather want to jump him, or something.

In all fairness, they’re not that much younger than me.

Not that I’m, y’know, thinking about it, or anything.

‘Cause I’m not.

Really.

I’ve actually got brilliant self-control. Top-notch.

Yep…

Constant vigilance, right here.


THE END