Harry

"Fantastic breakfast as usual Mum," Fred mumbled through the last of the muffins Mrs. Weasley had laid out.

"It really is, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said wholeheartedly as he went back for his third helping of hash and sausage.

"Thank you my dears," Mrs. Weasley said with a wistful sigh. She gazed towards the family clock before sitting down heavily, almost as if the weight of the world rested upon her shoulders. "If only more of your brothers would stop by every now and then. It would make your father and I so happy if we could see our children more often than at holidays. The house is so quiet since you've all moved out; we just don't know what to do with ourselves." When there was no response to her sighs, Mrs. Weasley glanced at Fred and Harry could see a familiar calculating glint in her eyes. "And perhaps I'd start cooking those blueberry pancakes you love so much."

Far too used to his mother's attempts to guilt and bribe her children home, Fred only rolled his eyes and took another bite of egg. It had been the same thing ever since he'd moved out eight years ago. Every morning Mrs. Weasley would make a feast of a breakfast and set the table for ten despite knowing that Harry and Fred were the only ones who would show up, Harry because Ginny left far too early for Quidditch practice and Fred because his few attempts in the kitchen had ended in impromptu trips to St. Mungo's. And at the end of every breakfast, Mrs. Weasley would look towards the family clock and sigh, moping and lamenting the loss of her children in a misguided attempt to guilt the two into dragging George and Ginny along with them.

Harry shifted uncomfortably and shoved more hash into his mouth, still unused to her guilt trips despite being subjected to them for the past thirteen years.

"Mum you forget most of your children have wives that cook breakfast for them," Fred finally told her. "Save for poor Harry here," he amended with a glance at his brother-in-law. "Last time Gin tried to use the kitchen he was out from training for a week with food poisoning. Sorry mate, but we all tried to warn you off her scones," he said with a shrug as he reached for the last of the sausages.

"Frederick Gideon Weasley! I raised you better than to say such things in my house," Mrs. Weasley chided as she jerked plate closer to her. Fred pouted and watched her place the last piece of sausage onto Harry's plate. "Ginny only needs more practice, and if you were a halfway decent brother you'd offer to help her out."

"Good thing I'm only a quarter-decent, or we wouldn't be so successful, eh Harry?" Fred said as he gave his mother a wink.

Harry only shoved another piece of toast in his mouth, a diversionary tactic he'd learned early on from Ron and Charlie.

"And just for that you're going into Muggle London with your father today. I don't want him lost in that fussy department store again, Merlin only knows when he'd wander back. It took us a week before we found him last time and we can't miss Aunt Muriel's ninety-ninth birthday next Friday," Mrs. Weasley said with a scowl as she stood up and begin to clear the table.

Fred's jaw dropped in disbelief and Harry had to stifle a laugh. It was well known in the family that a trip with Mr. Weasley into Muggle territory was a three person job. Just last month he'd somehow made his way to Harrod's and, upon seeing the extensive electronics and housewares departments, had taken it upon himself to catalogue the entirety of the store. He'd managed to live in the store for six days unnoticed until the night guard had caught the kitchenware dancing to David Bowie's 'Let's Dance.' Now Mr. Weasley had a lifelong ban from Harrod's and the night guard's had the memory of the incident and the taste of cinnamon wiped from his mind.

"But mum, I can't. George and I have tons to do today. The inventory isn't ready for the Hogsmeade opening, the stack of backorders is starting to reach the ceiling, the deadline for filing the papers on the new fireworks is next week, and we still haven't been able to work on the new line of defense for the Ministry. And with Lee out this past week with the dragon pox and Verity gone for that fife thing –"

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lips and stopped in front of her son, staring him down until his excuses finally sputtered to a stop. "No buts young man. Your father has done so much for all of us, far more than any of us deserve. The least you can do is spend just one day with him. And most importantly keep him out of trouble."

"But Mum –"

"Really, Molly. It's not necessary for Fred to come with me, I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself," Mr. Weasley's soft voice said from behind his copy of the paper. Harry jumped at the sound of his voice; he hadn't realized that he was still at the table. "Besides, I doubt he'd be interested in the history of the Roman Aqueducts."

"I said he's going and that's final," Mrs. Weasley said, glaring at her husband and son as if daring them to contradict her, the used dishes continuing their journey to the kitchen behind her. When neither continued to protest, she gave a final nod and walked towards the kitchen, the rest of the dishes jumping off the table to follow her.

Fred glared at the table and grumbled a bit more, his voice soft enough that it didn't carry past the table. Mr. Weasley shook out his paper once and went back to his reading.

Harry snuck out of the room quickly before Mrs. Weasley remember that he was there and suggested that he pop round for another visit to Privet Drive. The last time she'd suggested he visit was three years ago and she'd sent Mr. Weasley and George along with him to make sure the Muggles were behaving appropriately. Harry hadn't wanted to go, but Mr. Weasley had insisted, more for the opportunity to go inside a Muggle house rather than out of some familial obligation. Mr. Weasley had quickly become preoccupied with Aunt Petunia's kitchen appliances and as she chased him around the kitchen, Harry, Dudley, and George had all sat around the kitchen table in an uncomfortable silence. When they finally left three hours later, Mr. Weasley was so grateful to Aunt Petunia for explaining the appliances to him (or rather, shouting at him to put down her egg timer and stop touching her espresso machine) that he bewitched her broom with a self-cleaning charm, a charm that George had gleefully altered to chase a person down whenever a bad word about Harry or wizards was said.

Merlin only knew what Fred would do to the occupants of Privet Drive if forced to go and besides, Harry was already running late for his Mediwitch training. He wouldn't want to miss learning about ingesting too much boobertuber pus would he?

xxxxx

"Hey, Harry?" Fred called out as he came into the stock room three weeks later.

"Hey Fred," Harry answered, concentrating on the mess in front of him. When Fred didn't continue Harry paused in wrapping the Creative Christmas Cracker, the latest in the twins' attempts to expand Christmas cheer, and looked up at him.

"If me and George were Muggles, what would we be?"

Harry raised an eyebrow at the question and shrugged. "Humans, I would think." Fred blinked at him and Harry turned back to the Trick Mustache Teacup he'd been trying to stuff into a cardboard tube.

"No, I mean occupation wise," Fred said to clarify.

Harry thought about it and scratched at the scar on his forehead absently. "I dunno. Inventor or entrepreneur I suppose. Electrician maybe. They make things move about sometimes."

A grin broke out on Fred's face and he slapped Harry on the back. "Thanks, mate. That's perfect," he said before walking towards the front of the shop.

Ron watched as his older brother walked away and turned towards Harry. "What d'you suppose that was all about?"

Harry shrugged again and muttered the simple charm George had taught them earlier. No matter how many times he'd said it the tube still hadn't expanded enough to fit the teacup and saucer inside the damned thing. Perhaps Ron was right and George was just having another go at them. "No idea. He's been asking me the strangest questions about Muggles ever since he went with your dad last month. Even asked if they kept trolls in the Tube. Course, now that I think about it they're all about Muggles in some way," he muttered as he picked up another tube from the pile.

Fred had been asking him so many odd questions lately that Harry was beginning to expect them every time he saw him. ("Are you sure they don't trap people in those movies? They seem rather alive to me.") Ginny had said it was simply a fascination that all Weasley men went through at some point, though Fred was going through it much later than his brothers had. ("Why is their currency on a base of tens? It makes absolutely no sense. Or do they not know Arithmancy?") Mrs. Weasley had just waved off his concerns and put it down to his curious nature, though she had warned Harry to make sure Fred wasn't harassing Muggles; they already had one fanatic in the family and couldn't afford another. ("What is a taxi and are you sure I can't feed Lee to it?")

Once the teacup was finally in its package, Harry muttered a simple spell and watched as the wrapping paper jumped to life, winding its way around the cardboard and spinning the cracker around in the air before landing on the table with a soft thump. When he looked up to pick up another toy, he found Ron staring at him in horror.

"Well, do they?" Ron asked in horrific fascination.

"The trolls? Not that I know of. But there are people who ride it who certainly smell like one."

Ron was silent a moment as he took the information in. Likely he was just making a note to avoid the Tube from now on. "Don't suppose he picked up one of those Muggle diseases do you?"

"Doubtful. Ginny and your Mum said it was just a phase. Apparently you all went through it at some point," Harry said as he set the wrapped tube by the charmed ribbons. They both watched as it began to unwind and tie itself into a bow at both ends of the cracker.

"Yeah, but I was six when I did it, and Charlie was about eight when he went through it," Ron said as he dropped a Vanishing Vanity Visor into the end of a tube. "And once Dad took him to the Natural History Museum to see the dinosaurs he realized they were just old dragons." He paused as he struggled with a knotted piece of orange string. "Course George'd know better about what's going on with Fred. Might blame the head wound for it though. Said he's been acting a bit odd lately."

The mention of Fred's old injury caused Harry to glance towards the shop front in worry. He knew Ron was right. If anyone knew anything about Fred it would be George. But ever since his twin's brush with death four years ago, something had changed in George. Even something as small as a sniffle in the family would cause George fits of worry until they received a clean bill of health from St. Mungo's. And when it came to Fred, George was even worse, rushing him to the Mediwitches the second he thought something was off in any way. His behavior made Mrs. Weasley look as if she were taking mothering tips from Professor Snape.

With a small wave of his wand, the cracker jumped together and Harry made his way towards the shop front. He found George near the Wonder Witch line clipboard in hand, counting the bottles of hair dye and making notes to himself. Before Harry could make it past the Fever Fudge display, a Fizzing Whizbee crashed through the shelves in front of him, a Catherin Wheel following closely behind. Harry dove to the ground and rolled under a table only to come face to face with a grinning Lee.

"Wotcher, Harry."

"Lee, what in Merlin's name is going on?" Harry shouted over the fireworks.

"Come to steal ol' Freddy for lunch," Lee yelled back as he let lose another Catherin Wheel. "Haven't seen the wanker for weeks, keeps cancelling on me. My money's on a bird."

"Is that what's wrong with him?"

"Has to be. Remember how weird he was until he brought that Stella bird around two years ago? Took him ages to bring her round, and then she up and left before the month was out. There's Freddie," Lee yelled as he rolled out from the table and hopped into a low crouch. "See you round, Harry."

Harry watched as Lee dragged Fred towards the front of the shop, ducking and weaving to avoid the chaos. Fred gave Verity a wave before they slipped through the door. He made a mental note to follow up with Lee later and, once the coast was clear, crawled out from under the table. With any luck he could slip back into the workshop before he got roped into clean up.

He managed to make it to the stairway before Verity's brusque voice called out, "And where do you think you're going Mr. Potter? Someone's got to help me clean this mess up."

xxxxx

It was one of those days were nothing had gone right and things weren't looking up. He'd stayed up late last night trying to catch up on his assigned reading. As a result he'd slept through his alarm and missed class, only to be greeted by eight howlers from Mediwitch Halsey and another from the Muggle Liaison Department when he'd finally made it downstairs at ten. After sending off a quick apology to his mentor Harry found that Ginny had made him breakfast this morning, edible and still warm from her perfectly cast heating charm. Unfortunately, Ginny had forgotten to turn off the pilot light under the skillet and what was left of the pan was now stuck in the ceiling.

It wasn't until Harry went to clean the burn marks off the ceiling that he realized he'd misplaced his wand last night. He'd searched for more than an hour before giving up and flooing Neville for help, only to interrupt the careful replanting of a crop of acromantuala pods. Now he'd have to stop by St. Mungo's with an apology card before he could replace the stove.

Harry had finally been able to leave the flat around noon, determined to pick up the package that Muggle Liaison had been pestering him about for the past two months. It had been sitting at the Muggle-Wizarding post office exchange for almost a year now and it seemed as if the employees were getting tired of looking at it. Once he'd arrived, however, he found that the package was only his 'early inheritance' from his aunt and uncle, a reused produce box lined with smudged and torn pictures of his mother and stuffed with broken toys and ripped clothing.

So it was an understatement to say that Harry was not in the best of moods when he ran into his brother-in-law as he came out of the post office.

"Harry, there you are. And just in time to," Fred called out as he spotted him. Harry tried to suppress a groan and settled for grimacing at him instead. "Where can I get this blasted thing fixed? I've tried ever spell I can think of but all I've managed so far is to get it to chase the pygmy puffs and make a mess on the carpet."

Harry's eyes crossed as he tried to focus on the toaster held two inches from his face. It gave out a sharp bark and Harry jumped away from it and into a passing woman. He apologized and turned back to Fred. "At a repair shop I'd imagine. Why do you even have a toaster? I thought you hated toast?"

"I'm helping out a friend," Fred said quickly, tucking the toaster back under his arm and taking out a ten pound note. "Where is this repair shop anyways? And do they take these ounces?"

"Pounds, Fred, not ounces," Harry corrected with a sigh.

"Odd thing to be called that, doesn't weigh much more than a quill," Fred muttered as he looked at the note in his hand.

"Why don't you just buy a new one? It's not as if you couldn't afford it," Harry suggested as he began to walk towards Harrod's. If he was lucky the department store would carry both stoves and apology gifts and he could return home before Ginny got back from practice.

Fred sighed and followed Harry down Walton. "That's not the point though, is it? I'm supposed to be able to fix this. What use would it be if I just replaced it? Besides, where am I going to find another toaster in London? It's not as if they grow on trees."

Harry stopped in front of Harrods and took in a minute to take in the absurdity that was his life with the Weasley's. "Gee, I wonder where, in all of London, one would find a perfectly respectable, working toaster," he muttered before walking into the store.

"Exactly my question," Fred said as he followed Harry, the toaster still yipping under his arm.

xxxxxxx

Short chaptered piece because I haven't been able to get this idea out of my head for the past few months and Crispers is giving me all sorts of trouble. Major AU in that one particular character didn't go to Hogwarts (I'm sure you'll need only one to figure out who.)

Named after an old Doris Day song.