Birthday Wish Fulfilled for: smallbrownfrog
From: A Mysterious Member

Title: You've Been Had
Characters/Pairings: Fred/Draco/George
Rating: NC-17
Kinks/Themes Included: non-con, hate sex
Other Warnings/Content: 15-year-old Draco, spanking
Word Count: ~4700
Summary/Description: George and Harry might have smacked Malfoy around after that Quidditch match, but thanks to Umbridge, he still needs putting in his place.
Author’s Notes: This possibly went further into dark non-con than you were looking for - but I hope it fulfilled the spirit of your wish!



Malfoy’s swollen mouth was stretched into a wide grin. He was still a little bruised from the beating he’d been given on the Quidditch pitch; there was a hint of purple round his left eye. But smugness radiated from him, to be caught by his housemates like some horrible infectious disease.

George ground his teeth all through dinner, watching Malfoy hold court with the Slytherins. They all looked gleeful, while the Gryffindors were subdued and angry; George could see tense shoulders and narrowed eyes all along the table. You’d never have thought the Gryffindors had won the game.

Bloody Umbridge. Bloody Malfoy. Already back from the hospital wing, and laughing, making dramatic sad faces about his injuries to that bitchy prefect with the dark hair, doing imitations of rabid Gryffindors. The ponce was pleased he’d been attacked. Everything he’d said about George’s mum, and he’d got away with it.

Fuming, George glared, remembering how good it felt: seeing Malfoy crumple to the ground under him and Harry, feeling the wriggling body struggle under them, making him pay. His cries were satisfying.

In retrospect, they were better than satisfying.

He was about to turn to Fred, when his twin muttered in his ear. “We should make Malfoy pay for what he said. Really pay.”

George grinned. “I was about to say that.”

Malfoy was a Prefect. The rat-faced little bastard would be a Prefect, going round puffed up with his own authority, sneering down at everyone. They’d been hearing about it for months from Ron. Well, once they were through with him, Malfoy wouldn’t be sneering at their brother like he was better than the Weasleys.

George grinned at Fred all through the rest of dinner, and saw his own wicked glee reflected in his twin’s eyes.


Sneaking out after curfew that night was simple. Years of avoiding the Prefects for the purposes of doing bad things had taught the twins the details of the Prefects’ rounds. So tonight, they went out to find a Prefect for the purposes of doing bad things. George followed after Fred in his rubber-soled trainers, silently passing the portraits. Portraits could be bribed, they’d long known; so the painted people of Hogwarts watched quietly as the twins crept down from Gryffindor Tower.

They lay in wait down a corridor on the third floor. Each was hidden behind a classroom door, facing each other: Malfoy would have nowhere to run. For now, Malfoy stood at the apex with Pansy Parkinson. He was talking smugly, voice echoing a little in the stone surroundings.

“And then Potter leapt at me, like a rabid animal, along with that beast Weasley. They’re unnatural, Pansy, you know. I fought back, I got Potter a decent blow on that smug face of his – I don’t think Witch Weekly’s going to want him on their cover any more – ” His pale face was alive with victory, his hands moving as he shadow-boxed. Parkinson was laughing, clearly charmed.

Fred and George made disgusted faces at each other.

The two Slytherins stood there for another few minutes trading self-congratulatory jokes while George seethed. He itched to grip Malfoy’s face, watch Malfoy bruise under his fingers, see the smug smile slide off his face to be replaced by cringing fear –

George blinked, pulled out of his sudden fantasy by Fred’s gesture. Parkinson smiled up at Malfoy, gave him a pert wave and spun round. She went down the left-hand hall. Malfoy paused a moment, smiling after her, then turned.

He sauntered down the long corridor towards them. George tensed, muscles shifting as he readied himself to pounce, his chest full of that shivering, wicked anticipation that came before the denouement of a practical joke. The eagerness to see their victim realise he’d been had.

It seemed to take an eternity of watching Malfoy ease his way along the corridor, still grinning, seeming to send self-satisfaction from every pore. Then Fred mouthed it: “three, two – ”

“One!” They shoved the doors wide open and shouted “Silencio!” with one breath. Malfoy paused for a crucial moment in drawing his wand, his face full of everything George had wanted: surprise, recognition, fury. And dawning panic as Fred Summoned Malfoy’s wand and the few portraits scattered along the corridor remained stubbornly silent.

George lunged forward, and his hands crashed against Malfoy. Malfoy half-crumpled instantly, unable to brace against George’s strength. But he didn’t surrender. He fought, twisting desperately under George’s grabbing hands. He kicked at George’s shin, fear and spite lighting up his face. It was surprisingly painful but George kept his grip, even as Malfoy’s bicep shifted under his wide palm.

The fight was oddly silent. George was too breathless with effort to do anything but grunt as he tried to push Malfoy to the wall. Malfoy was Silenced, of course: his breath panted out in frantic gasps that were loud in George’s ear.

George shoved him backwards, one hand closed round his shoulder and the other bruising Malfoy’s left hip.

As Malfoy’s back slammed into the stone wall, his head smacked backwards. It hit the wall with an unpleasant thunk, and breath wheezed from his mouth. For a long second Malfoy simply panted, trying to get his breath back, his pointed face twisted up in pain. Then he spasmed into movement, unexpectedly strong. He got George a good clout against one ear, but then Fred grabbed his wrist.

Malfoy was vicious, but there was only one of him, and he couldn’t compete against Beater strength. They each took an arm. Fred’s left palm lay over the vulnerable flat of Malfoy’s stomach, staying deliberately still as Malfoy panted and shook a little under their hands.

The twins pressed harder in unison, forcing Malfoy tighter against the cold wall.

Malfoy’s eyes had closed instinctively as he fought. Now they opened, grey eyes washed of the little colour they’d had by fear.

It was amazing to see: Malfoy trapped against the wall by their hands as fear grew on his face.

His mouth opened again, moved. George thought he was trying to ask what they were going to do with him, but he wasn’t sure. Nor was he much bothered. Watching the movement of Malfoy’s mouth – the lower lip still swollen and sore-looking, ripe for abuse – was much more interesting than working out what he had to say.

“Funny watching him try and talk,” Fred grinned. “Guess he hasn’t twigged he can’t. Maybe he’s not too bright.”

Malfoy’s expression was incandescent. George grabbed him by the hair, holding him in place so they could enjoy it. “Guess he’s not really bred for brains. They were just looking for a pretty face.”

“Shame they got this anaemic little rat, then.”

“Very shameful.”

“He’s still yelling! D’you think they can hear you? Your little Inquisitorial Squad? Umbridge?”

“D’you think they matter right now?” George hissed into his ear, up close. He watched Malfoy’s Adam’s apple bob in his pale throat. “You can get us kicked off the team or take points but none of it means a thing right now. You think you’re so powerful but you don’t know a fucking thing about real power.”

Malfoy’s s face twisted into a sneer. He mouthed something, no doubt something horribly sarcastic about what George and Fred knew about power. George grinned at him. “Still don’t get that you can’t talk, eh? No yelling. No spells.”

“You leave when we let you.”

Malfoy’s body convulsed in panic. They held on, and George pulled Malfoy’s hair harder until he shuddered and went still, panting.

“That’s more like it,” said Fred. “All right, we have a silent Malfoy on our hands. A dirty cheating Slytherin Seeker on our hands. Whatever should we do with him?”

“We talked about beating him up, right?” George said. “Finish what me and Harry started on the Quidditch pitch.”

“Yeah, really do a job of it,” agreed Fred. “Or just hex him until he’s on the floor oozing. D’you remember the train after sixth year?”

“But that’s not as fun, doing it with wands.” George could feel a fine trembling under his hands as Malfoy listened to their lazy back-and-forth; his eyes were darting between them like a trapped rat’s.

“You’re right, brother mine.” Fred’s grin was filthy and George felt a pleased shock at the sight of it. He loved having his twin around to be a bad influence when he wanted one. “It’s so much better to do it with your hands.”

“And leaves much prettier marks,” said George. He finally let go of Malfoy’s hair to trace the bruising round his eye. Malfoy jerked his face away, and Fred tsked and took hold of Malfoy’s jaw, holding him in place. George smirked and held Malfoy’s gaze as he touched the hot damaged skin of his temple. George’s whole body felt alight with exhilaration, seeing the hate in the pale eyes, watching him hold back a whimper as George pressed at the bruise.

“We wanna be sure he really knows his place,” Fred said. They were crowded in close, keeping Malfoy pressed to the wall while they touched his face. They could feel him trembling.

George slid a thumb under Malfoy’s bruised lower lip, slow, then drew his wand. He pressed it to Malfoy’s pale throat, digging it into the soft skin where throat became the underside of that pointed chin. “On your knees.”

Malfoy mouthed a single outraged word. George didn’t bother to lip-read. “Go on, Malfoy.” He let go of Malfoy’s wrist and Fred followed suit, holding his wand on Malfoy as well. Malfoy’s chest was heaving. He didn’t move.

“D’you want us to beat you up instead?” Fred asked, his voice cheerful. “We can do that. Or would you -- oh, there he goes. Yeah, easy does it.”

Malfoy glared poisonously up at them as he slid slowly to his knees. It was the hottest thing George had ever seen, and he’d got Florence Sykes’ shirt off once.

He glanced at Fred, and found his eyes alight.

George reached for his fly with one hand. Malfoy reared back, but he had nowhere to go. “Come on, Malfoy, this should be easy for you,” George told him. “Just imagine I’m Snape.”

Malfoy bared his teeth. Fred twitched his wand. “Any hint of teeth, Malfoy, and I’ll hex you into little pieces.”

George pushed his bare, hard cock close to Malfoy’s face. “Suck me.”

Malfoy stared up at him, swallowing. Fear and rage battled on his face; his lips were curled in a sneer, but the pale eyes flickered between George’s cock and Fred’s wand. His hands were fisting and unfisting in his lap.

He shut his eyes and opened his mouth. George fed the tip of his cock into Malfoy’s hot mouth, inhaling sharply at the sensation. Malfoy looked a little surprised at the taste, eyes flying open as George nudged his mouth wider.

He didn’t push his cock in or make Malfoy choke on it; he just rubbed his cock in and out over Malfoy’s bruised lower lip, his whole body heating up at the sight.

“Lick it,” Fred ordered. “Come on, Malfoy, make a little effort.”

Malfoy gave him a poisonous glare, but on his knees with George’s cock in his mouth it didn’t have the desired effect. George felt that barbed tongue start to move against the underside of his cock and gasped aloud.

George met his eyes, watching Malfoy glare helplessly up at him. He grinned filthily, working his hips, and Malfoy shut his eyes. Wanting to avoid the humiliation, maybe.

Fred wrestled his own button and zip undone one-handed, keeping his wand ready. “Come on, Malfoy, find the cock. Uh-uh, don’t open your eyes, it’s not half as fun that way.”
Malfoy’s brow creased. He obeyed, leaning forward incrementally with his mouth open and his eyes closed, searching the air. His chin brushed Fred’s cock and his lips softened, slid down around it.

George’s heart was pounding.

Fred’s eyes were alight, his mouth wavering from dirty grin to sneer to momentary helplessness at Malfoy’s tongue on him. He pulled Malfoy off by that white-blond hair and passed him back over to George. George didn’t push in too far; he preferred rocking gently in and out, watching Malfoy suck him, drawing it out.

He passed Malfoy back over to Fred. The soft wet sounds were broken by a sharp gasp; Malfoy’s face twisted in pain. His swollen lower lip had split.

Fred’s hips twitched, maybe excited by that sound, and Malfoy whimpered.

Fred wasn’t going to relent, but honestly George was ready for something else. He crouched carefully. “Spread your knees a bit more, Malfoy.”

Malfoy made a choked sound of dismay but obeyed, Fred still gently rocking his hips, cock rubbing in and out over that bloody lip. George rubbed at Malfoy’s crotch through his rough school trousers. Malfoy responded easily, hardening under George’s hand.

“Wow, Malfoy. Getting a little hot under the collar there. D’you want some more?”

Malfoy jerked off Fred’s cock and shook his head violently, mouthing silent angry words. The twins laughed.

Fred gave George a hand up. “Let’s go.”

They hustled Malfoy into an empty classroom - Fred still holding his wand on him, George enjoying manhandling him.

“Evanesco!” said Fred.

Malfoy’s clothes vanished. His whole body jerked, hands flailing up as if to defend himself. He was very visibly freaking out, and now trying to hide his half-hard cock, and George couldn’t stop laughing.

“I’m sure you’ll manage to sneak back to Slytherin without anyone seeing you, Malfoy,” Fred said.

That’d be a stupid practical joke, George thought; too much risk for not enough return. But it was united front all the way in front of Malfoy, so he just said, “I’m sure it’s nothing new for the Slytherins.”

Malfoy’s nipples were hardening in the chill of the room, and playing with them proved irresistible. George reached for him and Malfoy jerked back. Fred moved behind Malfoy, trapping him, in sync with George as ever; Malfoy didn’t seem to realise, and he kept backing up from George’s groping hands until he found himself in Fred’s arms.

George pinched and rolled Malfoy’s nipples, feeling them harden under his hands. Malfoy’s pale cheeks heated up as George played with his nipples, and George’s stomach went sour with lust.

“Look at you blush,” he said, surprised by how deep his own voice had gone. “D’you want this?”

Malfoy shook his head furiously, but Fred slid one hand round his hip to cradle his hardening cock. “Ooh, feels like you want it, Malfoy. D’you lurk around hoping someone’ll have you, you little deviant?”

Malfoy looked even more miserably flushed, shaking his head even as he thrust into Fred’s teasing touch. George leant into to lick one nipple, and Malfoy flinched from his tongue. George kept going, teeth and tongue working Malfoy into painful sensitivity. He nipped at it then bit, teeth cruel round Malfoy’s flesh, and he felt Malfoy’s chest vibrate in a moan.

“He’s proper hard now, George,” Fred said. “Rutting into my hand like a right little slut. Shall we give it to him now?”

George pulled back and pinched both Malfoy’s nipples, twisting until Malfoy’s silent, swollen mouth was open on a cry. “Yeah.”

They manhandled him over to a desk. He’d have obeyed them if they’d told him to go there, but it was more fun to shove at his shoulders and back, feel Malfoy’s muscles go stiff as he reminded himself not to resist them. They bent him over the desk. George kept pressing down between Malfoy’s shoulder blades until he flinched from his sensitive nipples hitting the desk, until his arse was pressed deliciously up in the air.

George groped his arse, squeezing it hard. It was an amazing feeling, getting his hands all over Malfoy’s arse, watching the fine trembling along his spine as George pinched each pale cheek and rubbed two fingers down his crack.

“You know, we did say we’d beat him up,” Fred said. “That was - ”

“ - The plan. You’re quite right.” George stepped back a little, enough to watch Malfoy tense. To watch Fred’s arm go back before he walloped Malfoy’s arse, and watch Malfoy’s arse ripple from the force of it, and watch Malfoy’s mouth open.

“You know it’s not quite as fun - ”

“ -- Without hearing him,” Fred said. “Yeah, I agree. So, Malfoy.” He started spanking Malfoy again, regular and rough, letting it punctuate his words. “We’ll take the Silencing spell off you as long as you don’t try anything. We’ve got your wand and there’s no one around to hear you, so it’ll go better for you if you don’t scream anyway.”

“And if you obey, we won’t hurt you,” George added. “On our honour as wizards.”

Malfoy nodded furiously. Fred and George caught each other’s eyes. George removed the spell just as Fred gave him another smack, and the squeal echoed off the classroom walls.

“Oh yeah,” George said, and the next little while was lost in the flurry of them both spanking him. Sometimes they did it in a regular, matched rhythm, watching Malfoy rock onto his toes with each blow, exhaling hard as he tried not to cry out. Then they’d switch, deliberately unpredictable: Fred delivering great smacks while George covered him in little slaps, turning his whole arsecheek pink. George moved down to Malfoy’s thighs, which had the benefit of making Malfoy spread his legs as he tried to protect his balls. Then George pinched his inner thigh, and that sharp pain on vulnerable skin broke Malfoy’s silence for good: his occasional cries became a continuous chorus of wails. The squeals broke occasionally on Malfoy’s heaving breaths as they warmed his arse; George thought he might be crying, but he couldn’t make himself stop long enough to check.

Fred delivered a flurry of slaps to the underside of Malfoy’s arse; he was red in the face and sweating, expression half-dizzy, and George suspected he looked the same. That made Malfoy squeal, made him kick out automatically, which Fred punished swiftly by grabbing a ruler off a nearby desk. He laid darker lines across Malfoy’s flushed arse; they went white then a pale red, and George was mesmerised.

He conjured a tub of lube and held it up in Fred’s eyeline. Fred nodded.

George kicked the inside of Malfoy’s ankles. “C’mon, spread ’em. Wider.”

Malfoy sucked in a choked breath and obeyed. Fred reached under him, then laughed. “He’s - he’s still hard, George,” he said, tripping over his tongue. “He’s still - ”

“No!” George reached round under one hip and his hand collided with Fred’s as they touched up Malfoy, feeling his unmistakably hard, hot cock. Malfoy had pressed his face to the desk - hiding.

“Now I want you to remember that you’re choosing this over getting properly beaten up, and we can still do that,” Fred said, as he unscrewed the lid of the lube. Then he pressed two slick fingers against Malfoy’s pucker.

Malfoy made a frightened sound.

“Quiet, Malfoy,” Fred ordered. He sounded very reasonable as he said, “we didn’t say we’d let you go, did we? We said we wouldn’t hurt you. And we’re not, are we?”

“You - you - ” Malfoy’s voice was high and distorted by suppressed emotion.

“You got off on the spanking,” George told him. “Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

Malfoy gripped each side of the desk as Fred pressed a slick finger inside him. George leant down and pulled Malfoy’s hair, forcing his face up. Malfoy rolled up his eyes to stare back, then shut them -- perhaps he realised George had no plan. He just wanted to watch Malfoy’s face twist, his eyes clench more tightly shut, his mouth quiver as Fred fingered him. Fred kept going, and the sight of his forearm shifting and Malfoy’s swollen open mouth pressed against the desk, pale shoulders so tense they were shaking - The fine quivering went all down Malfoy’s spine. George’s hand clenched spasmodically round Malfoy’s hair and Malfoy whimpered.

The sound was astonishing. George let go of Malfoy’s hair in favour of finding his cock again, cradling it in his hand, rubbing and playing. Malfoy whined again, deliciously, and Fred laughed breathlessly. “God, he’s just swallowing me up, he wants it - feel - ”

George peered at Malfoy’s hole where it was stretched round Fred’s fingers. He pushed a finger in too, unable to resist, grinning at Fred with their faces close. They watched Malfoy squirm with them both inside him, little moans forced out of him on every exhale.

Fred picked up his wand with his other hand and they both pulled back. Malfoy froze, not quite daring to shift from his position spread-legged over the desk, hole twitching. Fred removed the lube from their hands then banished both their trousers.

At the sound of the spell Malfoy shot upwards. The twins moved to grab him. He spasmed into struggles, blind panic in his face. They shoved him down, dumping him onto his back on the desk. Fred, red-faced, had hold of his wrists. George knew Malfoy was bruising under their unrelenting grip on him, outnumbered and outmatched, and the knowledge made his cock ache.

“Stop, stop - ” Malfoy cried, finding his voice again. “You don’t n-need - I can pay you - ”

“Fuck off,” Fred said in a low, vicious voice. “I liked you better when you were quiet and getting fucked. George - ”

George was sweating, barely coordinated; his hands slipped against Malfoy’s thighs as he shoved. But Malfoy let him and then he was sliding his cockhead against Malfoy’s rim, watching Malfoy’s expression contort.

George pushed inside and Malfoy was breathing like he was sobbing. He looked up and caught Fred’s gaze; they leaned in towards each other, half-laughing like they always did when they got away with something. Malfoy’s back bowed and he cried out between them. At the sound, George thrust all the way into his arse and Fred’s hands clenched round his wrists.

It was blinding. He could barely find a rhythm at first, hips stuttering as he tried to cope with the tight heat of Malfoy’s arse, how Malfoy was clenching round his cock, the heat of Malfoy’s punished arse. The bitten-back sounds escaping past Malfoy’s clenched teeth, which could’ve been pain or desire or something else entirely.

He pounded in, enjoying the slapping sounds of it, the moans escaping Malfoy’s throat with each thrust. After waiting so long, after playing with Malfoy so much, he couldn’t last. George’s vision went white as he came.

He wilted over Malfoy’s body, feeling him shudder. George’s face was against Malfoy’s long pale throat; he turned his mouth against the delicate skin, sucking and and nipping at the skin. He brought a lovebite into bloom on the front of Malfoy’s neck, just where a wolf would tear out his throat.

George could feel Malfoy’s chest shuddering under his.

“My turn.”

George watched Malfoy wince as he pulled out, and felt a weak pulse of lust go through him again. It got stronger as he watched Fred line himself up at Malfoy’s loose hole.

“Ready to get fucked again, Malfoy?”

Malfoy flinched, turning his face away; his ruffled blond hair did little to cover his flushed face and swollen mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” Fred fed his cock slowly into Malfoy’s hole, grinning savagely as he watched Malfoy squirm. “Come on, I bet you’re a right little goer for the Slytherins. And you were showing off enough at dinner.” He kept thrusting, and squeezed Malfoy’s arse, drawing a whimper. George swallowed, his heart pounding. “The hero who got beaten up by the Gryffindors so you could stop us playing Quidditch.” Fred delivered a slow slap to Malfoy’s arse, then grunted. “Yeah, clench. Wonder how it’ll be sitting a broom after this?”

“Shut up,” Malfoy muttered, “shut up, shut up…”

“Now that’s not nice. Doesn’t sound like you’ve learned your lesson at all.”

“Doesn’t seem like you know your place,” George agreed. “Even if this does.” He gave Malfoy’s cock a slow squeeze as he spoke, grinning.

“Tell you what,” Fred said. “If you come off this - ”

“Come off his cock like the Slytherin bitch you are,” said George.

“Exactly -- then, we’ll let you go afterwards.”

Malfoy turned to stare up at them with large grey eyes. His lips were parted; he barely seemed to be breathing.

“Promise.”

Malfoy grabbed for his cock and began jerking at it frantically. Fred chuckled low in his throat, fucking him slow. “There we go.”

“Shouldn’t be too easy for him,” George said, and scratched his nails heavily down Malfoy’s chest. Malfoy yowled, the sound ringing round the stone classroom. George couldn’t be bothered to care, not when he could finally pull these sounds out of Malfoy without anyone coming to interrupt them. He reached for Malfoy’s nipples again, feeling them harden under his fingertips. He pinched and twisted and tortured Malfoy’s nipples until Malfoy was squirming desperately, trying to get away, even as he worked his cock and Fred fucked him steadily.

“It just seems to get him harder, doesn’t it?” Fred said, laughing in disbelief.

“Maybe this is why he’s so annoying,” George agreed. “Wants us to take him aside and…”

“Watch him go at himself!”

“Because you’re making me,” Malfoy said, goaded into speech, his voice low and desperate. “Because you said I have to - ”

“Keep telling yourself that.” George put his hand over Malfoy’s, forcing him to slow his strokes over his cock. “Seems like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Malfoy said nothing; instead moans came vibrating out of his pale, bruised throat, his hips twitching between Fred’s cock and George’s hands. His orgasm seemed to rip through him, and George watched, transfixed, as Malfoy shuddered helplessly, crying out as Fred fucked him through it. George kept rubbing Malfoy’s softening cock, teasing a last spurt of come from him. Malfoy tossed his head, moaning, as George kept stroking his oversensitive flesh and Fred fucked him harder.

Fred threw back his head and his hips stuttered. George’s spent cock twitched as he watched his twin come inside Malfoy.

Fred pulled out, panting. He was scarlet in the face, eyes alight; he looked just like he did after winning at Quidditch.

“And I thought whacking him with Bludgers was satisfying,” George said.

Fred roared with laughter. Malfoy was limp on the desk, chest still heaving. His pale eyes flickered between them, as if he was waiting for permission to move. For a moment George wanted to deny him. Smack him around some more, make him beg --

Fred tossed conjured clothes at him. “Get going, then.”

George blinked. Right. Best not to push things too far. Malfoy grabbed the clothes and backed away into a corner of the room. He wasn’t going to leave without his wand, George supposed, so he just watched Malfoy hide his punished arse in school trousers and button his shirt with shaking hands.

“I’ll get you back for this!” Suddenly Malfoy was lunging forward, his eyes wet, his voice distraught. “I’ll get you back for all of this, all your stupid toys and revenge. I’ll turn your tricks against you, I swear it, and teach you – ”

Fred’s expression was bored. George could see the slight wariness in his brother’s tightened jaw, but he was certain Malfoy couldn’t.

“Shut up, Malfoy.”

“You think you can do whatever you want - I’m going to - ”

George reached for his wand and Malfoy jerked backwards, terror in his face. Sneering, Fred threw Malfoy’s wand onto the floor in front of him.

“Out. See if you can avoid us, Malfoy, and stay quiet. That way we won’t have to come and find you.”

Malfoy grabbed desperately for his wand. For a moment he froze with it in his hands, crouched like an animal at bay, split lip twisted into a sneer below frightened eyes. Then he scrambled for the door, running on bare feet, and was gone.

Hopefully he didn’t know any healing magic. George yearned to watch him squirm at breakfast tomorrow.

Fred looked at him, blue eyes serious. “We should probably get out soon, you know. Malfoy won’t keep his trap shut for long.”

George nodded slowly, his eyes on Fred’s. “Yeah. Besides, we’re ready for something bigger than Hogwarts.”

“We’ve got Harry’s money, right, we can start making a plan… and make more inventions. Start selling.”

“Everyone needs a bit of fun right now. Not to mention ways to sneak around.”

“And we’ve already proved we’re fucking amazing at getting what we want.”

“Not to mention avoiding the consequences.”

“Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

They grinned.