"The Mudblood" One-Shots

The Anti-Firework

Year: 3; December of 1994

Canonicity: Canon to The Mudblood, chapter 43

Point-of-view: third person limited, Fred Weasley

Notes: This is the day after the previous one-shot (the day after Draco and Lainey have their midnight meeting in the library in which he questions her about her Yule Ball date)

"Are we sure this'll work?"

"No, which is why we're testing it out here rather than in the Great Hall," Fred Weasley said as he tucked a magical explosive between the cracks in the stone floor. The fifth floor corridor was empty this time of day—and most times of any day, really—and so Fred was confident that he and his twin wouldn't get caught troubleshooting with their newly created fireworks.

They'd never seriously dabbled with anything of the sort. Of course, over the years they'd exploded numerous items in Hogwarts and back home at the Burrow, but engineering explosives that would cause mayhem without the permanent damage was tricky business. Until now, they'd only been public about their interest in trivial prank products—candies and the like—and no one knew that they'd dipped their feet into the realm of magical fireworks. Not even Lainey.

Perhaps if Fitz weren't around, Fred wouldn't have been afraid to try out these new creations in front of the entire school. But, even if safety weren't a factor, Fred had no interest in embarrassing himself with a failed experiment, especially not in front of her. So they'd resorted to crouching outside the Prefects' bathroom—a wise choice of location, both twins could agree.

"Let's hope Pucey's in there," George said as he gingerly slipped a firework into a crevice. "His peaceful afternoon bath won't be so peaceful after this."

"Wouldn't mind startling Diggory either," Fred grumbled, just loud enough for his twin to hear and respond with a snort. Planting the last explosive, Fred extended to his feet, his twin following suit a moment later. "Ought to get out of range—and sight, if there truly are any prissy Prefects bathing in there—"

"Hey—Weaselbees!"

Fred didn't even have to turn to recognize who that obnoxious bark belonged to. After exchanging a look with his twin, they both pivoted their heads to the sight of Dungball Malfoy stalking down the hall toward them. His white-blond hair glinted blindingly in the torchlight, and his robes billowed so dramatically that Fred could barely contain his amusement.

"I'm not opposed to setting these off while he's in the vicinity," George mumbled as Malfoy approached.

"Can't say there's anyone who would be opposed..." Fred murmured just as the git stomped up before them. Malfoy's haughtiness flickered upon realizing that the twins loomed over him by a few centimeters, shrinking his ego enough that he actually had to puff up his chest to reassert himself.

"State your names," he ordered, glaring between them.

The twins shared a side-glance—and a chuckle.

"State our names?" George echoed.

"What is this, roll call?" Fred questioned.

Malfoy sniffed as he scrutinized them. "I want to know which one of you is helplessly infatuated with the Mudblood."

"Helplessly infatuated?" Fred repeated blithely. "I reckon that'd be Diggory."

"It's likely he's in there," George said, jabbing his thumb toward the Prefects' bathroom. "You can join him, if you'd like."