Notes:

Written for Round 6 of the Dramione Remix Fest. I chose Westley and Princess Buttercup from _The Princess Bride_ as my couple. It's a wonderful book and is one of my favorite movies. Needless to say, I had great fun with this!

Many thanks to my lovely, helpful beta, captainraychill!

"Weasley? One-Eared Weasley, open up! I know you're in there!"

George poked his head out his bedroom window to see who was making such a racket in the street below. It was barely six o'clock in the morning! Who the hell was here at this hour? Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes wasn't officially open until nine.

Peering through bleary eyes, George could just make out a tall male figure, wearing a hooded, black cloak, banging on the door of the shop. George frowned. He must have forgotten to set the bloody wards properly. The man in black should have been covered in glue, glitter, and feathers by now for disturbing the peace.

Irritable from being woken so rudely, George stomped down the stairs that led from the flat into the shop interior, tying the belt of his orange polka-dotted dressing gown as he went. He yawned hugely, and then trudged to the door as the pounding continued.

He didn't open it. Instead, he cast a Two-Way See-Me Hear-Me Charm on the door and glared at the man outside.

"Thank you so much for disturbing my beauty sleep. Can't you read the sign? We're closed!"

George pulled back in surprise when the hooded man in black immediately pressed his face close to the transparent portal. There was no mistaking those grey eyes, the fringe of white-blond hair, and the rather anxious expression.

"What the hell do you want, Malfoy?"

"Let me in, Weasley." Draco's voice was low and urgent. "There's something you have that I need, now. It can't wait."

George snorted. "Ha. I'm not selling you any more Peruvian Darkness Powder, Malfoy. We've got you on The List. And we don't open the door to any Tom, Dick, or Harry that comes along whenever they feel like it. Come back at nine."

"But I'm not just any Tom, Dick, or Harry," Draco protested.

"True enough," remarked George. "You don't look like Tom Riddle," he said, causing Draco to shudder, "and you certainly don't look like Harry Potter."

Draco sniffed and rolled his eyes. "Thank Merlin for that."

"However, I beg to differ with you on the Dick part of that statement. Even after five years you still act like one of those. So get outta here, Malfoy. We're closed!" George gave him a two-fingered salute before waving his wand. The See-Me Hear-Me Portal closed with the sound of a slamming window.

Draco immediately began to hammer his fist on the door again. His muffled words came through the wood. "It's nothing like that! Look, you ginger-headed jester, if you'd just—please. Please help me, Weasley. You're my only hope."

The quietness of those last few words gave George pause. The arrogant prick really did sound desperate. Even after the war reparations his family had paid to the Ministry the bastard was still rich, but most Diagon Alley shops were reluctant to serve his family and the other former Voldemort supporters. Maybe Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes really was the only place he could go.

George scratched at his ear hole for a moment as he pondered. What the hell, he mused. If he's this worked up, we can probably make a good profit off him. The thought made him smile mischievously.

"All right, Malfoy," he said through the keyhole. "Keep your robes on. I'm not promising anything, but you can come in. Let me unlock the door."

George stepped back, cracked his knuckles, and then mashed his thumb down on a big purple button located on the side of the sales counter. A klaxon horn sounded upstairs, resulting in a string of expletives from the flat. A moment later, his twin brother Fred appeared at the top of the stairs, wearing a puce-spotted dressing gown and a sour expression.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" he grumbled. "It's barely six in the bloody morning!"

George jerked a thumb at the shop door. "We've got a customer."

"So? It's still six."

"It's Malfoy."

Fred paused. "Malfoy? As in, Draco Malfoy?"

George nodded. "And," he said, holding up a finger in emphasis, "He needs our help."

"Really?" A positively evil grin spread across Fred's face. "I'll put the kettle on." He disappeared to the flat's kitchen.

George turned back to the door, lowered the malfunctioning security wards, and pulled on the handle. Malfoy strode inside.

"It's about time," he said in his most haughty voice, pushing his hood back and unbuttoning his cloak. Underneath, he was wearing a crisply ironed white shirt complete with miniature golden Snitch cufflinks, black trousers made of some sort of expensive fabric, and tall, dark green dragon-hide boots. "We Malfoys don't like to be kept waiting."

George raised an eyebrow. What kind of a wizard dressed like that at six in the blooming morning? Oh, that's right – the arrogant git kind. "We Weasleys don't like to be rushed, and we didn't have to let you in at all, Malfoy."

Draco raised an eyebrow back at him. "What's all this 'we' business? I thought there was only one of you now," he cuttingly remarked.

George narrowed his eyes. He was just about to hex Malfoy with an All-Over Paper Cut Hex and douse him with lemon juice when Fred Apparated beside him with a CRACK, a huge tray laden with tea and pastries in his hands.

Draco made a sound like nnyeee and jumped back. He glared at Fred. "Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

Fred, grinning, set the tea tray down on the counter before slinging an arm around his brother's shoulders. George smirked.

"You don't know so much after all, Malfoy. It turns out Fred was only mostly dead. Madam Pince was cataloging all of the victims after the battle was over, and she discovered he was still slightly alive." He raised his eyes to the ceiling in an expression of sincere thankfulness. "That wonderful librarian will never have to pay a cent in this shop for the rest of her life."

"But Madam Pince hates practical jokes and silliness," Draco pointed out. "She'll probably never come in here."

The twins shared a sly glance. Fred shrugged. "The offer still stands," he said with a grin.

Draco looked suspicious. "If you've been alive all along, why haven't I ever seen you here in the shop? I am a fairly frequent customer, after all." He pointed his chin at George. "I've only ever seen you."

George shook his head slowly. "I'm disappointed in you, Malfoy. I thought you were an observant man. Didn't you ever notice that I sometimes had two ears?"

Draco waved a hand dismissively. "Forgive me for not admiring your facial features, Weasley. I just assumed you were wearing a joke prosthetic of some sort."

George was about to say something about Malfoy's incredible self-absorption, but by then the teapot had magically poured three cups full of tea. Fred reached for one and chose a large, cinnamon sticky bun as well. He sipped the tea, took a huge bite of the bun, and asked, spraying crumbs all over Malfoy's impeccably styled clothes, "So, wha' kin we do fer ya, Malf?"

Draco brushed at his robes with distaste and stepped further away from the twins. He did select a pastry and some tea of his own before doing so, however.

"Since it is so early in the morning for you two, I'll spare you the details and summarize my request: I need one of your potions." He carefully bit into his bun. His face registered surprise at its excellent flavor.

George rolled his eyes. "We sell over eight-seven varieties of potions, Malfoy. You're going to need to tell us a little more than that."

Draco's eyes were darting back and forth as he scanned the shop's nearby shelves, obviously looking for something specific. Apparently, he couldn't find it, because he huffed in annoyance before turning back to the twins. His cheeks reddened as he said, "Fine. I need one of your lovepotions."

Fred choked on his bun. George slapped him on the back.

"A love potion?" Fred gasped. "Good grief, Malfoy, I thought you were good in Potions. Why not brew one yourself?"

"I was. I am. I would, if I didn't need it today and I had the right recipe. I need one as soon as possible."

Fred washed down some wayward crumbs with his tea. George stared at Draco. "If you don't mind my asking, what do you need a love potion for?" He eyeballed the blond wizard. "I mean, your personality is crap, but you have loads of Galleons and you aren't too hard on the eyes, if one can see past your overall pointiness."

Draco scowled and ran his fingers through his hair. It instantly settled back into his fashionably shaggy coif. "Not that it is any of your business, but the witch who's captured my interest has no, er, interest in my bank vault contents."

Fred smirked. "Oh yeah? What about the contents of your pants?"

George looked Malfoy up and down critically. "I dunno, Fred, maybe that's the problem."

Draco drew himself up. "I can assure you, there is nothing lacking about the contents of my trousers," he said, emphatically. Then he deflated a bit. "The witch in question just hasn't had a chance to find out that fact. Yet," he added. He crossed his arms. "Can you two help me or not?"

George tapped a finger against his chin, then pulled a giant, dog-eared ledger marked Inventory out from under the counter and began to page through it. "Well, the new school year just started. There was great demand for our love potions. Those randy Hogwarts students, you know. We're fairly cleaned out of stock at the moment." He glanced up at Malfoy. "Are you looking for any old love potion, or do you need something specific? Granger's Rare Ointments and Potions Emporium is more likely to have all the usual love potions in stock."

"That's only because she's a lot less willing to sell such lusty things to underage wizards and witches," said Fred.

"Once a Prefect, always a Prefect," quipped George. He and Fred sniggered.

"Yeah, maybe you should go check out G.R.O.P.E.," continued Fred. "I've noticed Hermione doesn't throw you out on your arse every time you walk into her place." He finished his tea. "Which surprises me, actually. You're over there all the time. You think she'd be sick of the sight of you by now."

Draco said nothing. The twins looked at him. His cheeks were quite pink and he was staring at the ceiling, drumming his fingers on the countertop.

"Malfoy?"

Draco cleared his throat. "I haven't inquired at... at G.R.O.P.E."

"Why not? Hermione's an early bird, I'll bet she's been awake since five. I'll go fire call her—"

"No!" Draco grabbed Fred's sleeve. "No, don't disturb her. I don't… I can't ask her about this."

The corner of George's mouth twitched. Fred's jaw fell open. The twins met each other's gaze and broke into enormous grins.

"Malfoy! You want this potion to use on Hermione?"

"Well, I… you see…"

"Hot damn, Draco Malfoy's in love with Hermione Granger!" whooped Fred. He and George high-fived each other, linked arms, and began to dance in a circle. Draco hissed at them to shut up but they ignored him. It was only when he hexed both of them with a Zap-to-the-Arse Jinx that they stopped.

"Yes, you wankers," he snarled. "I love Granger." He began to pace. "I can't believe I'm telling you this," he said under his breath. "I fell in love with her months ago. I've been working up the courage to ask her out. I finally did three days ago, and she said yes!" He whirled to face them, his eyes desperate. "I haven't been able to sleep a wink. All I can think about is making sure I don't humiliate myself during our dinner date tonight." He sighed. "That's why I need the bloody potion today. It's my safety net."

Rubbing his bottom, George slammed the ledger shut. "Wow. Have you got it bad. All right, we'll help you."

"I—You will?"

"Of course," Fred said. "We love Hermione, but she's our direct competition in the potions biz. It'll be satisfying to show her what our stuff can really do."

"Besides, we're hopeless romantics." George batted his eyes at Fred, who sighed and clasped his hands together against his cheek.

Ignoring this exchange, Malfoy smoothed his shirt down and straightened his cuffs, regaining some of his air of superiority. "Excellent. So, which potion do you have available? Cuddling Cupids? Kissing Concoction? Snogging Syrup?" He gave them an eager look. "Maybe some Amortentia?"

"Nope. We are all out of the others, and we aren't allowed to sell Amortentia," George said with a hint of a grumble.

Fred scowled. "That was Ron's fault. If he hadn't used all of our supply to try to win over Lavender Brown's heart again at the Ministry's Fancy Dress Gala two years ago by dumping it into the punch bowl containing Minister Shacklebolt's favorite rum punch—"

"You have to admit, Fred, that the resulting baby boom has been good for the wizarding world. Ron got his girl, and Kingsley did need to get laid."

"True, true."

"I remember that fiasco. That was your brother's doing? I might have known. Thank Merlin I prefer wine to punch. All right, if you don't have any of those, what do you have for me?"

"Not a sausage. We're out of all our stock."

"What?!" Draco's face fell.

"But, we do have one love potion that can be brewed in a day. It's nice and powerful, too. It's called Twu Wuv Potion, Number Nine and Three Quarters."

"Number Nine and Three Quarters?" asked Draco, confused. "What does it do, let you live out your biggest Hogwarts Express fantasies?"

Fred said, "Nah, that's just the version of the recipe. Whomever you give the potion to will have extremely strong, warm fuzzy feelings towards you."

George was making notes. "I like that Hogwarts Express fantasy idea though, Malfoy. If we use it, we'll give credit where credit is due."

Draco sneered. "Thanks awfully. Anyway, this Twu Wuv Potion sounds like just what I'm looking for." He shook his coin purse meaningfully. "So what are you standing around for? Start brewing!"

George said, "Well, there's another snag. We can start brewing it, but we are missing a key ingredient." He elbowed Fred.

"Oh yes, it's the most important one of all, too."

Draco gritted his teeth. "What is this key ingredient, pray?"

"We need a single perfect bloom from the Carnivorous Buttercup, which only grows in the heart of the Forbidden Forest."

"Then get a move on. You can't hang around all day. Snap to it! Chop-chop!"

"Ah, now there's the rub, Malfoy."

"We're both needed here, see. We have to brew the potion and mind the shop. Neither of us can go."

"Fortunately, it's even more effective if the giver of the potion is the one who harvests the Buttercup."

Fred gave Draco a prod with his wand. "That's you, lover boy."

Draco paled. "Wait, what? You mean for me to retrieve this Buttercup by myself?"

George and Fred nodded.

He gulped. "From the Forbidden Forest?"

The twins nodded again. "Buck up, Malfoy," said George, twirling his wand in his fingers. "Set your Slytherin self aside and find your inner Gryffindor. You love Hermione, right? Isn't having the chance to win her love worth braving the wilds of the F.F.?"

Draco stared at them and then squared his shoulders. "Yes. Absolutely."

Fred looked at his watch. "Then hop to it, Malfoy. Shift your arse, time's a-ticking. The Twu Wuv Potion can't be finished until we have that flower."

"I will find it," said Draco, and, with a swirl of his cloak, Disapparated.

Fred and George waited. A few seconds later, Draco reappeared with a CRACK.

"Where, exactly, in the Forbidden Forest do I need to go?" he asked with trepidation.

"The exact center," answered Fred. George headed for the back room of the shop, ostensibly to start the cauldron boiling but really to hide the gleeful smile on his face. Draco nodded, swirled again, and disappeared once more.

A second later, he was back. "Just to be clear – you're talking about the Forbidden Forest's center, where the centaurs live?"

"Yes. The Centaur Center, as it were."

Draco's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, but he Disapparated once more without a word.

Fred joined George in the workroom. George had brewed some more tea. Fred took a cup.

"This will be a fun day, won't it!" he said brightly.

After their second cuppas, George reset the security wards—properly, this time—before they went upstairs to shower and dress for the day.

As he was toweling his hair dry, George heard a loud CRACK from below, followed a moment later by a girlish scream. Then there was a shouted Scourgify, a lot of cursing, and then a second, even louder CRACK. He smirked.

"Was that the Impervious-to-Cleaning-Charms Hot Glue, Glitter, and Feathers security ward, George?" Fred called from the bedroom.

"Oh, yeah."

"Aw, I bet Malfoy looks mighty purty now. Those centaurs are reeeaaally going to like him."

Fred and George opened the shop and started a brisk day of business. Several hours passed as Galleons, Knuts, and Sickles crossed the counter. The potion in its cauldron bubbled merrily away on its own in the workroom.

Just before lunch, there came the expected CRACK. A rather glittery, feathery, and leafy Malfoy appeared before the twins. Nearby patrons tittered as the disheveled wizard in not-so-black robes staggered slightly, leaning against the counter and gasping for breath. Fred led Draco to the back room while a laughing George tended to their customers.

In the workroom, Draco sank onto a nearby stool. Feathers drifted down. "What a nightmare that was," he stammered. "I had to climb this horrible hill that I thought would never end, and there was a giant waiting at the top of it!"

Fred slapped his forehead. "Oh yeah, we forgot to mention Grawp."

"That thing has a name?" Draco squeaked.

"Yeah, he's Hagrid's half-brother. He lives in the forest. If you found him, you must have been close to the center," said George.

"The bloody great wanker kept throwing rocks at me. I had to cast an Incarcerous at him to get away!" He stopped panting and tossed his glittery, dirty hair out of his face. A feather fell on his nose and he sneezed. "And just what the hell is up with all of these… these feathers anyway?" he griped. "I'd come back to ask you another question and pow! I look like a reject from one of Celestina Warbeck's background singer auditions. And I can't Scourgify them away."

Fred shrugged. "You breached our security wards, numbskull. You're lucky it was George who reset them. You'll have to use soap and water, but at least feathers and glitter wash off." He grinned impishly. "I would have chosen our Speaking in Rhymes all of the Times ward. Just imagine wooing Hermione with that curse on your head."

Draco's glitter-highlighted eyelids narrowed. "You are truly evil, Weasley. Tell me: did the Sorting Hat suggest Slytherin to you at all?"

"I'm not telling," said Fred.

"Come on, I must know!"

"Get used to disappointment, Malf."

Draco shrugged. "Fine." He triumphantly held up one fist. Twigs and weeds stuck out at odd angles.

"Look! I found the Carnivorous Buttercups. They almost bit my fingers off when I grabbed them, the nasty blighters, but here they are."

Fred carefully pried open Draco's hand. Within the mish-mash of dirt, grass, and crushed leaves were two mangled Carnivorous Buttercups. Just one of them was still moving, and it was only feebly gnashing its yellow teeth. He scoffed, pulled out his wand, and Vanished the lot.

"Hey!" Draco protested.

"No good," Fred told him. "We said the blooms had to be perfect. Not crushed and mangled like you'd chewed them up and spit them out."

"They tried to chew me up!" protested Draco.

"Yeah, well. Get back out there, Malf." Fred dragged him off the stool. "You want this potion to win Hermione's love, right?"

"…yes," Draco answered, sullenly.

"Then remember your Potions lessons and get your ingredients right. Off with you! Find the centaurs, they'll help you."

Draco flipped him the bird before Disapparating into a swirl of multicolored glitter and feathers. Fred laughed, filled two mugs with tea, and returned to the shop floor.

After lunch, George popped over to Granger's Rare Ointments and Potions Emporium to have a quick word with Hermione. When he came back, he was grinning and gave Fred two thumbs up.

It was almost six o'clock when a loud CRACK from the back of the shop heralded Draco's return. George and Fred were just serving their last customer. They locked the shop door and eagerly went to find Draco.

He was standing at stiff attention in their workroom, sweating slightly. Most of the feathers and glitter had disappeared, along with his hooded robe. His shirt was badly torn and streaked with mud, revealing his pale but impressive abs. The expensive slacks were now little more than rags, and both of his dragon-hide boots were gone. One eye was badly bruised and he had a cut on one cheek. He winced as he turned to face the twins. At arm's length, he delicately held a single, fragile, perfect Carnivorous Buttercup between two fingers. The bloom was snarling and kept snapping at him.

"You found the centaurs!" chorused the twins.

"Yes," said Draco, flatly.

"Wicked!" they said together.

"Yes, indeed. I found them, and they had bushels of the bloody Buttercups," Draco muttered. After a moment, he added, "They wanted payment." He shifted uncomfortably. "Much payment."

"That shouldn't have been a problem for you though, eh, Malfoy?" Fred asked. "After all, you're loaded!"

"I certainly am," Draco murmured, and adamantly refused to sit when Fred offered him the stool.

George gestured to the bubbling potion. "It's a beauty, Malfoy. Drop it in there, just as it is."

Draco dropped the flower into the cauldron. The potion hissed.

"Is that it?" he asked, wearily.

"Just one last thing." Fred dug around in his pocket and pulled out a tattered bit of parchment. He handed it to Draco. "Here. Recite this incantation as you stir the potion widdershins."

Draco began to stir as he read aloud.

"Your twu wuv is what I wish for,
It's a dweam wif'in a dweam.
And a mawwage formed fwom twu wuv,
Is part of my sneaky scheme."

He stared at the parchment quizzically as the potion burbled before turning a deep, rich, chocolatey brown.

"There. Now, it's ready!" George rummaged under the counter and pulled out a thermos.

"It is?" Draco asked. He tossed the spell aside and sniffed the air. "It smells like Honeyduke's chocolates." His stomach let out an audible grumble.

"Yes, indeed. That means it's been perfectly brewed."

"The chocolate flavor makes the potion go down nice and easy," explained Fred. "And what girl can resist chocolate?"

George filled the thermos and capped it off. "That'll be sixty-nine Galleons, please." He held out his hand for payment.

Draco dropped his entire purse into George's hand. "Keep the change." He carefully took the thermos and made his slow, limping way toward the door.

"Hey, Malfoy, Hermione's shop closes in five minutes. I'd hurry if I were you. Oh, and take this," George said, giving him back some of his money. When Draco gave him a dazed look, he explained, "You want to be able to pay for dinner, don't you?" and winked.

Draco glanced at the clock on the wall and quickened his pace. Turning back, he said a quiet "Thank you," before heading purposefully into the Diagon Alley evening.

The twins waved from the doorway.

"Bye, bye, Malfoy," called Fred.

"Have fun breaching the ramparts of her heart!"

"You think it'll work?" Fred muttered to George.

"With his personality? It'll take a miracle."

"Good thing she's already in love with him."

"And with our super-deluxe Weasleys' Molten Hot Chocolate."

"That, too."

"Goodbye!" they yelled in unison, waving enthusiastically.

FIN