Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series.
A/N: These one-shots keep coming out of thin air. Definitely not as fluffy, but still fun. I promise the next thing I publish will be something I have mentioned in my profile!
"How was Mrs. Peterson's, boys?" Molly said over a bot of boiling water.
"Great!" Fred and George said simultaneously.
"What did you do with her today?"
"Showed her some 'Muggle' card tricks," Fred said. "With Zonko's cards, of course. She could not figure out how the two of diamonds ended up in her refrigerator!"
"Well, it was more in the potato salad than anything. And we helped her bake some coconut biscuits. Want some, Mum?" George pulled one out of his pocket, scattering crumbs all over the floor.
"Maybe later, dears. Don't spoil your appetite for dinner."
"We won't!" They clambered upstairs to their bedroom.
Arthur walked into the kitchen from the backyard. "What have those two been up to?"
"They've been visiting Mrs. Peterson down the road to keep her company. You know, that sweet old Muggle whose husband passed away last year? Fred and George have been going there every week this summer and have been telling her jokes, baking, asking her about The Second Muggle World War—it's so sweet. Can you believe it?"
"Barely," Arthur said. "You didn't make them do this as punishment for tying Aunt Muriel's shoelaces together?"
Molly bit back a laugh. "No. They're doing this on their own will. Aren't they maturing into such fine young men?"
"They certainly are. I always worried that those two would grow up to be wild, reckless teenagers ever since they were toddlers. But look at them. Thirteen years old and befriending the elderly." Arthur laughed. "For once, I'm glad I was wrong."
"Fill 'er up!" George said as Fred dumped the coins into their piggy bank. "Offering to mow Mrs. Peterson's lawn was genius, Fred."
"I know! Why didn't we think of that before? There's only so much vacuuming and gardening two people can do in a week."
When the last coin fell in, the pig said, "Today's earnings: twenty pounds, fifty-two pence."
"Found it under her stove." George shook the bank until the sound of clinking pounds and pence were replaced with the clanks of heavier Wizarding money.
"Conversion complete. Today's earnings: four Galleons, one Sickle, one Knut. You now have ten Galleons, seven Sickles, and twelve Knuts."
"Finally!" Fred said, pulling their highlighted, dog-eared copy of the latest issue of Zonko's catalogue from under his bed. "Now we can buy that grow-your-own dragon kit. Charlie will flip until he finds out it's made of sponge and petrol. Do you think Mum will notice if we occupy the bathtub for two days?"
"Wait, hold on." George scribbled their earnings into his ledger, then flipped a page. "We can't. It's way over our Charlie budget."
They exchaged ledger and catalogue without having to ask. There was a separate column for Mum, Dad, and each of their five other siblings. "You're right. We bought him color-changing markers last time, anyway."
"But," George said, pointing at the magazine, "we didn't buy him the Unmarkable Parchment."
"Perfect." Fred wrote the amount in the ledger. "So we've got Unmarkable Parchment for Charlie, Exploding Bookmarks for Percy, Reverse-Spell-Checking Quills for Dad and Bill—" They traded ledger and catalogue again.
"What should we get for Ginny?" George said after he re-calculated their finances.
"These Mutilation Mirrors look good. 'Makes that special lady of yours appear more and more toad-like the longer she looks in it.' We'll get one for Mum, too. I can just see her reaction when she thinks her face cream is making her turn green and spotty."
"Brilliant! And it fits our budget, too! Now what about—"
"Right here." Fred pointed to a special offer at the bottom of the page. "For every Mutilation Mirror we buy, we get a free tarantula."
"LET'S DO IT!" they shouted together.