Outnumbered // Weasley Twins x Reader

Speak of the Devil

"So we'll be closing the place down to customers starting at about eight this Saturday. That leaves two hours or so for the girls to freshen up, custodians to clean the club, and for everyone in general to—"

"— prepare themselves, if you will."

Fred and George Weasley fed off of each other as they walked through their lounge one Wednesday shortly after opening hour. It was still mostly barren, as the majority of customers would only start to show up once the sun went down. There were the regulars, however; the lonely middle aged men that partially believed they had a chance with the half nude girls dancing in front of them. They ignorantly assumed that those girls just needed saving — and who better to save them than themselves?

"Only the best of the best for our mates, Sylvie." George said before Fred continued, "And the toughest of the tough. You know our boys are a rowdy bunch, we don't want any girls that aren't afraid to tell one of them to piss off if they get too handsy."

"I only employ the best and the feistiest, guys. You know that." Sylvia replied.

She led them to the bar where Fred ordered a bloody mary to start off his morning and George began looking over that quarter's paperwork. "Tips have been through the roof lately. Hope that doesn't change with summer coming to an end in a few weeks."

"Oh no," Sylvia laughed, "that's courtesy of my newest dancer, Y/n. She's a chemistry major and an amazing potioneer. Just after I hired her she pitched a new drink idea — it's pretty much a vodka cranberry with a few drops of diluted love potion mixed in. Doesn't make the men actually fall in love, but it does make them enamored enough to drop an entire paycheck in one night. My girls and customers have never been happier!"

The twins glanced at each other, but not because of the ethical aspects of that information. They were impressed that they hadn't thought of it first!

"Clever girl," George mentioned before sticking his nose back in the paperwork.

"What's that thing dad used to always say to mum?" Fred snapped his fingers, "What's good for the goose is good for the gander. So long as our girls are making money, we're making money. That's all that matters."

The three finished their walk through of the club with the twins telling Sylvia how they wanted each table, stage, and even chair set up. They made sure to have extra firewhiskey on that week's inventory order, and reiterated multiple times that she only put her top dancers on the schedule for the night.

"We want them classy," George specified.

"But still a wee bit trashy, if you know what we mean." Fred clarified with his signature mischievous grin.

"I know you two don't visit much these days, but trust when I say that my dancers are artists." Sylvia reassured while walking them out the back door, "And my artists will be arriving soon. I don't need the two of you scaring them off, so best be going now."

The iron door slammed, deadbolt securing loudly in place immediately after.

"Did we just get kicked out of our own stripclub, Georgie?"

"I believe so, Fred."

The pair had long moved out of both The Burrow and the two bedroom apartment above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. These days they stayed in a large, gated estate just outside of London. It was just far enough away from their family home that they had to register all of their fireplaces with the Floo Network, but close enough to their business ventures that they could apparate to and from.

As they sauntered down the alleyway, away from any muggle that may accidentally spot them, a thought entered Fred's mind.

"Y/n," he mumbled, rolling your name around in his mouth for the first time in years. It still lit an inferno in his chest just as it had back then. "Say, you remember Y/n L/n, don't you? From Hogwarts?"