By: Evangeline Henri
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Harry and Draco find their hands forced by thirteen words. (HP/DM SLASH!)
Archives: ff.net, but all others are of course welcome to it. Just ask.
Dedication: For Atalanta de Lioncourt, my partner in both adventures glorious and revelations absurd. Cheers to Aruba, babe. Also to my BETA, Kitten, who worked diligently at this, refusing to be stopped by illness. And to Yumie, my alpha and omega. I love you all!
*****
***
Chapter One
Harry 1— FortuneOne February night, when the wind was loud in the ramparts of Hogwarts castle, and the cold crept in, emboldened by the snow that had fallen the day before, Fred and George Weasley had trudged down the stairs from their dormitory and into the common room. Both faces had been smudged in white dust and were pinched with exhaustion, but there was a triumphant gleam in their eyes and matching grins on both their faces.
Harry Potter, cradling his Transfigurations text in one of the huge armchairs that faced the fire, turned to see them more closely. Fred had his arms stretched out, and was carrying something on a large tray. What species of mayhem were they up to now?
"Step right up, step right up for the newest addition to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' selection of fine pranks, gags, and entertaining victuals," George had cried. Or at least Harry was reasonably sure it was George.
"Get your insult fortune cookies here!" Fred had bellowed. In his hands had been a tray, laden with small folded cookies that were golden-brown and looked quite appetizing. "Weasley's Wise-Cracking Crackers— guaranteed to contain a personalized jab, jest, or derogatory comment every time!"
Harry smiled. For the past few weeks, Fred and George had barricaded themselves in their "laboratory" (the seventh year boys' dormitories), perfecting their latest product. Strange smells and sounds had been emanating from up there, and Lee Jordan had taken to sleeping on the couch in the common room, declaring it was more peaceful. There had been rabid speculation as to what the two were brewing; Dean Thomas had even claimed they were creating their own army of mini Weasley's.
A throng of Gryffindors began to form around the twins. "First one's complimentary, folks! Don't be shy; meet your pitiful pejorative fates with a stiff upper lip."
Fred reached out and grabbed a member of the crowd while balancing the tray on one hand; it happened to be poor Neville Longbottom. His face was clouded, obviously torn between the inviting scent wafting from the cookies, and the fact that it was the Weasley twins who had baked them.
Fred was less than sympathetic to Neville's indecision; he pushed him towards his twin, who said, "Ah, young Mr. Longbottom, how very brave. Would you like a cookie, you sniveling flobberworm?"
"Of course," he added, "that was just a rough conjecture. I'm sure whatever surprise is baked in those delectable morsels my partner is carrying will be infinitely more creative."
"'Creative?' Nice word choice, 'bro," Fred quipped. "Now, Mr. Longbottom, would you be so kind as to pick a cookie?" He thrust the tray into Neville's face.
Resigned to his fate, Neville closed his eyes, and selected a cookie. The crowd was hushed, waiting for something— anything— to happen. His lips moved in what looked suspiciously like a prayer, before breaking the thing apart in his hands and apprehensively shoving the pieces into his mouth.
No one spoke as Neville chewed, his brows knitted in thought. The room was silent; even Fred and George had paused their running commentary on their product to hear their first customer's response.
Finally, Neville's face blossomed into a smile. "Not half bad!" he proclaimed. "Maybe a bit on the crumbly side, but not half bad at all!" The crowd let out a collective sigh of relief, seeing that he had neither grown nor lost appendages, nor turned an unusual hue. Strange for a Weasley twin trick.
"Did you all hear that?" Fred boomed, beaming like a proud father. "He loves it! His taste buds are in euphoria!"
"Mr. Longbottom, would you now read your insult aloud?" George's face betrayed no signs of a smirk. Yet Harry knew there was one lurking just below his calm façade, waiting to burst out when Neville read his fortune.
Neville nodded. He unfolded the tiny piece of paper that had fallen into his hand, the light from the fire stressing the glittering letters "'Beware of the fall,'" he read, and then looked up. "Hey, you guys… that's not really all that insulting."
Fred and George exchanged a look. Fred whispered something into George's ear, who snatched the fortune out of Neville's hands.
"Let us see that!" He handed it to his twin, who studied the scrap of parchment intently for a few minutes.
Again, a whispered conference occurred. If anything, the crowd was even more intrigued. There were murmurings around the room, as everyone watched the twins' faces become darker and darker.
After a few minutes of this tension, George again turned to Neville. "Mr. Longbottom," he asked in a tone that had lost most of its mischievousness, "would you please walk up that flight of stairs?" He pointed to the stairs leading up to their dormitories.
Neville obediently trudged over, giving an aggrieved sigh. Harry could tell that he was secretly loving every moment he spent in the spotlight, though. It was a rare occurrence that all these people paid attention to anything he did, unless to poke fun at him. He climbed the steps until he was out of sight. He called out, "Now what?"
"Now back down, Mr. Longbottom."
Everyone listened with growing horror as Neville's regulated steps faltered, then changed into a clatter as Mr. Longbottom fell, end over end, to land dazedly amid a group of stunned onlookers.
The twins nodded grimly at one another, mouthing Neville's fortune. "'Beware of the fall.'"
Fred scowled. "They weren't supposed to do that! What do you think went wrong?"
George shrugged. "Dunno, but I think it has something to do with the secret ingredient."
"You know what this means, don't you?"
With that, Fred and George raced up the stairs that led back to their dormitory, barely avoiding Neville, who still lay there, stunned. "Due to field tests that revealed unforeseen problems, we will be need to perform another round of testing before Weasley's Wise-Cracking Crackers become available on the market," one of them shouted over his shoulder.
The crowd, seeing this was all the excitement for tonight, soon began to disperse. Harry stood up from the overstuffed chair in which he had watched all the events that transpired. Seeing that no one had yet come to Neville's aid, Harry walked over, and held out his hand.
"Never a dull moment in the Gryffindor common room," he quipped.
Neville nodded balefully.
*****
((E.H.- although this chapter is slash-free, expect some in upcoming ones.))
*****