Who: Fred and George Where: 1 Quills st When: Tuesday morning What: Mayorly discussion surrounding a particular problem
"Freezing," Fred said, as he descended the stairs while popping his head out the neckline of his jumper, and adjusted it at the waist.
It was nice, having a quick taste of winter in summer; made you appreciate both the cold and the heat just a bit more. Fred had joked that Harry had probably never run the risk of getting snowed on on his birthday before. It was a nice change of pace, if a weird one. Fred was sure he was about to come down with something, his throat scratchy and aching in the morning; though he'd been mentally prepared for a spot of cold (having helped set it up), his body hadn't gotten the memo to expect a drastic change in temperature.
When he reached the bottom of the staircase, George was bent over a piece of parchment, a pair of glasses perched on his nose. He'd never needed them back home. Fred certainly didn't need them. Their presence made him uncomfortable.
"What are you reading?" he asked, as he approached the table, he kept the 'so early in the morning' to himself. The George he knew probably wouldn't be reading anything until at least noon, unless it were Quidditch related or very important. "Want tea? Coffee? Bit early for beer..."