The Queen of Vipers || Fred Weasley

III.VII

Fred pressed the buzzer again.

"I don't think spamming his doorbell is going to work if he's not home."

"He's home." Fred buzzed again.

Nothing.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

George huffed. "What are we even doing here? We should get back before mum finds out we're not at Head Quarters. Besides, Bill's probably out or—"

Fred and George jumped back as the dark blue door swung inward and their eldest brother's face pushed forward. "Wouldn't you assume after the first dozen buzzes with no answer that maybe, just maybe, I didn't want to come to the door?"

Bill's disapproving face was flushed, and the plait his dark copper hair was in was in all sorts of disarray. And—

"Is that lipstick?"

Fred followed his twin's gaze to his brother's jaw and sure enough there was a pink kiss mark right below where his ear met his jaw. Fred's face contorted and he let out a sound of disgust. "Oh sick," he cried out.

"Uch," agreed George with just as much disgust. "What are you sneaking in a little pre-dinner delight?"

Bill reached up and started wiping at his neck. "Shut up. What do you want? What are you doing here?"

"Had business in Diagon Alley," Fred answered.

"So did you apparently," mumbled George, eyeing his brother's rumpled shirt and boxers combo.

Bill shot George a sharp look. "What kind of business?" he asked.

"Never you mind," said George.

Bill scoffed. "Right. So what exactly should I be minding then?" He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his shoulder against the doorframe in Bill's characteristically cool manner. "Or did you just want to see if my buzzer worked?"

"If I wanted to know that then this would have been a pretty terrible test."

Bill scowled further at Fred's remark. "Talk to me tomorrow." He started to close the door, but Fred shot his hand out and caught it.

"What was she doing here?"

Bill's face slackened and Fred could almost see the internal panic. "Who?"

Fred reached in the front pocket of his sweatshirt and tossed the bit of balled up fabric at his older brother's chest. Bill caught it and looked down at the heather grey shirt. Bill's eyes widened. "Oh. Oh no. No. This," he said, shaking the shirt in the air between him and his younger brothers, "is not what you think it is."

"I think it's your shirt." Fred tried to check his anger in his tone.

"That Electra came home in," said George, connecting the dots.

"Yes, but—"

"After spending the afternoon at your flat." Fred made a pointed look at the smeared lipstick mark on Bill's jaw again. His brother reached up and wiped at his neck again.

George had completely caught on now, with his quizzical eyes darting between his brothers who stared at one another wordlessly. Bill's short moment of bewilderment ended with a, "Oh fuck it," and a huff of a humourless laugh. "Should've known it wouldn't last."

He looked down at Fred, a shit-eating grin growing on his face. Fred could feel his ire growing hot in his chest, like the contents of a beginning potion. Bill let out another huff of a laugh, this time with amusement.