Daisy Potter and the Wedding (Book 8, Harry Potter ff)

Chapter 4 - Birthday Party

"It's going to be so fucking awesome." Terry was saying excitedly as we perched on the banister on the first floor, looking down at the ground floor below. "Did Sirius say how much drink he'd got exactly?"

"Not exactly, but he did say 'a fuck ton, sweetheart, so don't you even think about going home that night.'"

"Oh, hell yeah!"

Terry and I grinned at each other. The customers around us and below us milled about enthusiastically, chattering and messing around and filling up their baskets. The occasional whoop or explosion of laughter reached our ears; I spotted Fred leading a small group of employees down one of the aisles with a clipboard, pointing out things on the shelves with his quill then taking notes.

"Where's Bushy?" I asked Terry as we swung our legs.

Terry shrugged. "I haven't seen him. Not since stock take this morning."

"Hmm." I said. "Sus. Should we go find him?"

"Hold on." Terry said, his eyes locked on someone below. I followed his gaze and sniggered as a thirteen year old got hoisted into the air by his ankle by one of our displays. "Okay, now we can go."

The past few days were spent working the shop floor - well, more like Terry and I using our products to prank the customers and our coworkers - and excitedly discussing Sirius's party that he was throwing me and Harry. Our eighteenth was tomorrow, and our godfather had snatched the job of party planning and ran with it. One of the perks of your godfather's giant house in London being freed from the Fidelius Charm.

All of my friends - and I mean ALL of them - from Hogwarts and the Order had been invited, and Emily had enthusiastically taken up the job of decorating. And while she'd been doing that, Sirius had been purchasing every type of alcohol known to witches and wizards.

"AND I heard he picked up some Muggle ones too." Terry was babbling as we wandered the aisles in search of the other Weasley twin. "Like, pure vodka apparently, and tequila, whatever that is. We're gonna get absolutely fucking hammered, Softpaw!"

"Sometimes I swear you two are alcoholics." I said, thinking of Sirius's fondness of Firewhiskey and Terry's eagerness to party.

"No, we're banter-holics." Terry said. "He's not up here, and he's not down there either 'cuz we'd have seen him. Is he taking a nap or something?"

I snickered. "Let's go scare him!"

And so the two of us crept up the stairs to our flat, giggling and shoving each other. We unlocked the door, shushing each other loudly as we entered the living room.

"Uhh..."

Terry and I exchanged a glance as we heard the muffled groan.

"Is he sick?" I said, my mischievousness replaced with concern. "Oh, Godric, I feel bad now."

"Should we see if he's okay?" Terry glanced towards mine and the twins' bedroom door.

"Yeah - jeez, he doesn't sound too good -"

I pushed open the door, and my eyes widened. George jumped, trying to hide the laptop, but I saw a split second of the screen and heard a whimpered moan before he slammed the lid on it; his hard-on was covered a second later by the blanket.

I smirked. George's face was bright red, and Terry was cackling childishly behind me. I stifled a laugh; Terry's laughter was always contagious due to how silly it was.

"Oh, Georgie. Did you feel left out?" I purred. "You just had to go dig out the surveillance footage, huh?"

"Yo, was he watching -"