| back to black | {g. weasley}

[ nineteen ]

"How about you shut it and let me set it up," Fred snaps. He shakes his head and murmurs something to himself along the lines of, "bloody give me a break and let me angle this shit—"

"You're taking too long!" George argues from the corner.

"They won't be down there for too much longer," Evelyn coaxes next to him. "Just get your ass back here! It's fine the way it is!"

Fred turns and starts towards his brother and best friend. "Fine! Fine, alright— blimey you two."

Evelyn almost chuckles at him, "Well, you're diddling about like you've never set up a fire-cracker before."

Fred mocks her voice in a babied tone and nothing but annoyed blurbs of words. "Mimi-mimi... mi mi mi-mi, mi... I hate you."

She does laugh this time and George falls into it with her.

"I'm sure," Evelyn pulls out her wand and trains the end towards a long wicker tale attached to the backside of the rocket ship holding ten other of their noisiest fireworks. "Incendio."

A flame sparks at the end of the tail. It eats the wicker quick, the spark growing hungrier and inching towards the gunpowder packed end as the body of their invention waits to be blows down the dark, dingy hall straight into the Slytherin commons.

Each of them wait impatiently, their expressions lit with premature amusement. They hardly even blink as they watch the flame inch closer and closer... closer and— CRACK

Dark smoke puffs into the air, clearing in time for the trio to see the rocket zip down the hall and disappear.

Moments of quiet pass, none of them speaking in fear of interrupting the excitement that's about to unfold in front of them.

CRACK

Shrill screams echo down the hall all at once. Sly smiles slip across their faces as the cries grow louder, closer.

A throng of antic Slytherins isn't the usual sight around Hogwarts, but it's a bloody amusing one, that's for sure. As soon as they began spilling from the chambers, squealing with wide, horrified eyes, and swatting away sparks that followed them all down the hall with their squeamish hands (the loudest of which, was Malfoy's) George, Fred, and Evelyn were doubled over in laughter.

It only takes a moment of batting robes and settling from the surprise for someone to notice them.

Pansy Parkinson glares their way and points her finger accusingly, her tone full of spite. "Weasleys!"

Everyone looks. The trio pauses.

"Run!" Evelyn yells, pushing the twins by the sleeves of their sweaters to turn them around. They start off down the hall with a strong sprint and leave the visibly distraught and uptight Slytherins far behind, and as they run they begin to laugh. It echoes through the corridors the more they slow. George takes a sharp turn into the broom hall and falls against the wall; Fred slumps next to him and Evelyn across from the two. They all continue to heave out their hysterics with stupid smiles between their heavy breaths.