Theory and Practice
Author: Silvia Kundera
Disclaimer: This story's author does not claim to own any of the characters, concepts, or ideas originating in J. K. Rowlings' Harry Potter novels. No copyright infringement intended. No harm intended. Site material is offered to the public free of charge--not for profit. This piece of fiction is the sole property of the author and cannot be copied, sent, or reproduced without permission of the author.
Pairing: Fred Weasley/George Weasley
Summary: Twincest as a tiny one act play.
warning: INCEST. if you know
it's just going to piss you off, and you want to read anyway, go right ahead. I
could care less what you do with your time. But just don't come crying to me
about it. Keep your holier-than-thou shock to yourself.
18 Jul 2002
Scene: at a crowded coffee shop, somewhere in the downtown Toronto area...
V: "Incest is like Communism: it works in theory, but not in practice."
and, approximately five minutes later...
Silvia: "Oh, Fred/George -- Theirloveissocommunist!"
- Theory and Practice -
"I am not a Marxist."
-- Karl Marx
The Persons Of The Play
Molly Weasley, mother
Arthur Weasley, father
Breakfast table just outside of a kitchen smack dab in the middle of The Burrow, a haphzard house of four or five stories near the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. The room is spilling over with nooks and crannies. Chatter and giggles can be heard from the stairway.
(Fred is clamoring downstairs, his footsteps trumpeting his approach. The Weasley family, seated at the table, is busy passing marmalade and spreading butter upon their toast.)
(Stands at the foot of the breakfast table, hands placed flat down on the wood.) "I would like to make an announcement." (Pauses until all eyes are turned to his direction.) "I'm in love with George."
(Forks clatter to the table.)
(Very loudly, with more than a touch of melodrama) "I'm in love with George, but don't you worry! I'll suffer in silence and never say a word of it to him!" -- (Family moves to speak) -- "No! No, not a word! My mind is made up! I'll be fine! Just alone. (Ron's mouth opens, Fred waves it silent.) And dejected. For the rest of my life. No! Don't try to talk me out of it! I'm not telling a soul!"
(The family remains in their places, stunned, as Fred flounces across the room to the sink to wash his hands. He seats himself beside Ginny.)
(Appearing to resurface from paralysis) "George is sitting right there." (Gestures down the table to a very stiff George, who appears to find his placemat riveting.)
(Matter-of-factly) "Well, I didn't tell him. I announced it. To the world, as it were."
(A moment of heavy silence, before every voice at the table bursts out at once)
(Rising above the din, the other voices immediately dropping out.) "But he's sitting there. And thus part of the audience to your announcement. And so that's telling him."
(Pipes up very prissily and exacting) "You know, he's right. As Head Boy, I had to take extreme care when--"
Molly and Arthur Weasley.
(Shouting in unison) "This is not the point!"
(Defensively) "Well, I'd say it certainly has some relevance."
(With exasperation) "I don't believe that--"
(The voices of Arthur, Percy, and Ron join as they engage in a lively debate, crowded into the right far right corner of the table, with Molly attempting to pull them apart. They are hushed into a murmur for the ears of the audience.)
(Cheerfully digs a spoon into his oatmeal.) "Better than the Hogwarts elves can do, mum! They never get the butter right."
(George watches Fred eat, continuing his shell-shocked manner)
(Muttering out loud to herself) "But I love George too. We all love George. Why are people forever talking about things I don't understand?"
(Fred stands and carries his dish over to the sink, out of the earshot of those seated at the table, who have their backs turned to the kitchen. George follows.)
(Hesitantly) "You were kidding, we're you?"
(Appears to think it over, then smiles brightly.) "Well, at least that's what I'll be claiming later." (Kisses George soundly on the mouth)
(George lingers a moment, then follows.)
"Go on, get out. Last words are for fools who haven't said enough."
- last words of Karl Marx to his housekeeper
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