Position: Prefect 1
Category: Short Story
Prompt: "I'll make better mistakes tomorrow," [Speech]
Word count: 563
Warnings: I have nothing to put here for once. I had fun writing this, I hope you enjoy reading it!
Fred and George had always understood the complexities of brewing delicate potions. They understood that certain spells had to be treated with different tones of voice. They knew where the most common magical creatures lived and how to deal with them. They were perfectly aware of these things.
They were just so bored because of it.
Their seventh year—after they'd been banned from Quidditch—they started brewing useful (though deadly if incorrectly brewed) potions to prepare for their NEWTs.
Fred was dicing rat spleens and George was tending to the fire under the cauldron with his wand. Bright blue flames crackled under their slightly battered cauldron. Fred's hands smelled like burnt hair.
Nevertheless, they continued like they didn't notice a thing. They worked effortlessly with each other, anticipating the other's movements and carrying a silent conversation. They moved around each other in a quiet dance that no one else could keep track of, as if the twins had prepared and perfected the choreography years in advance.
They were extremely good at what they did, that much was obvious.
As he always did, Professor Snape swept by their table and leered down into the twin's potion, lip curling in disdain. Fred and George hardly spared him a glance, knowing that the man would find something wrong with their brewing in a matter of seconds.
Their potion was nearly flawless. Nearly was never good enough for Severus.
"This is violet," he spat, as if the twins had offended him. "It's supposed to be purple. You didn't stir it enough times, you imbeciles."
Fred raised an eyebrow and wordlessly handed George the silver stirring rod. His twin corrected their potion and passed the stirring rod back to Fred.
"It was a stupid mistake that could have harmed someone—if I trusted you enough to allow someone to drink it," Snape growled.
"Though I suppose that only an idiot, such as yourself, would be able to mess it up."
"I'll make better mistakes tomorrow, sir," George said lightly.
Fred frowned and straightened up, sending a mock-concerned look at his twin. Severus narrowed his eyes at the redheads.
"Friday, Georgie. We have potions Monday and Friday. Honestly, we've done this so many times—I can't believe you didn't know," Fred said, his expression completely serious.
"Maybe I need to see Madam Pomfrey?" George asked worriedly, biting his lip.
"My brain cells might be dying in the terrible stench of our poorly brewed potion."
Fred started to tear up and pulled his twin into a tight hug, sniffling. He stroked George's hair as he wailed, "Oh, my dear brother, we should have never forgotten to add the eight hundredth and seventy-second stir!"
George started to fake-cry into Fred's chest, holding tightly onto his twin's waist.
Severus scowled, finally catching onto what was going on. He glared darkly at the two before sweeping away with a swish of his cloak, glowering.
Half of the class was snickering, including the Ravenclaws, who were silenced when Severus started taking points from a Ravenclaw girl for breathing.
Fred and George shared sly grins as they parted and got back to work on their potion. Severus was probably far too used to the twin's causing laughter in the dungeons to deduct points anymore.
Plus, Minerva would've been furious if Severus took points from Gryffindor every time Fred and George brewed a perfect potion while making people laugh.