Status: ACTIVE. / Also, I made this rated R just in case. It's flexible. I'm not too used to Ratings yet so... Read my profile / message me if you'd like to know more. (I own nothing but my own ideas.)


Getting Away With ***

Wrong, this was all just wrong. Every cell in George's body was cringing, ready to crawl away from the blood stained fabric of his knitted sweater as brown paper packages slipped from his shaken grasp.
The man was surly dead.
Blood pored from his neck and limbs, large pustules erupted from his skin, and a rusted, round blade protruded from the man's chest.
The sight was grotesque and foul, but as George fell to his knees on the cobblestone, his eyes froze, paralyzed on the young man's lifeless corps.
This wasn't the way his morning supposed to go. George hadn't thought much of it as he awoke at the crack of dawn to retrieve some packages from the post. Nor had he thought about what would happen to him as he walked back to the joke shop.
Diagon Alley was typically a peaceful place, full of laughter, music, and little children ready to purchase their first Hogwarts supply list.
Nocturnal Alley was a better setting for such things.
The last death George had caught wind of was that of old Mrs. Fiddlewisk who owned a small knitting shop down the road.
A soft meow from a a cat off in the distance caused George to flinch in terror. Adrenalin rushed through his veins as his eyes spread wide with paranoia.
Who did it, why?
What if someone saw? Saw him trip?
Trip over the body...
So much blood and stench covered his clothes that it was clear. .
It was him, George, all evidence pointed to George.
That's what they'd say.
Run. He had to run.
Quickly George scurried around, picking up the parcels he had dropped before dodging into a crevice between two buildings.
Someone screamed. A loud, piercing scream and not before long a crowed had formed around the grotesque site.
George watched as auras appeared, instantly making his already tired nerves quiver in fear. Hopefully the dark shadow of the building would cloak him well enough..
The auras examined the body and what evidence they could from the street before entering the unused, rundown store closest to the crime.
George had passed this shop on occasion though only recently had he known it to be sold. As far as he knew, the owner chose to update the keep of the store manually. Which typically created some loud annoyances to the other shop keepers.
In a world filled with magic, George thought that seemed silly and time consuming.
Awhile later the auras returned from the shop with a young girl following behind. Their wands were at the ready and it was clear that they were taking her into custody.
Curiously, George emerged from his hiding spot. He needed a better view.
"Codswallop, those bloody Americans." A short elderly witch complained.
"Should have known she'd be up to no good. " her son said. "Anyone who chooses muggle construction is just strange in my book."
The girl was surprisingly young, with long, straight, dark auburn hair. Her arms were folded as she stood and tapped her black converse sneakers in annoyance. She was clearly upset.
Suddenly, A loud bark echoed throughout the alley as a small dog emerged from the rundown shop. To George's surprise, the crowd hadn't noticed the little guy as he sniffed around their heels.
George tried to stuff the parcels into his messenger bag the best way he could before comforting the friendly pup.
"It's OK little guy, mommy's alright." He whispered as lifted the dog into his arm.
The dog Barked loudly as he saw his owner through the crowd.
Instantly the woman's blue eyes locked onto George and her pup with an ice like intensity before the auras apparated her away.
George shook himself from his daze and ran home as quickly as he could.
Inconspicuously of course.
The pup followed him into the joke shop and up into the apartment him and Fred shared. The bathroom door slammed with great force, waking his roommate and causing the little dog to claw at the door frame.
Cool water splashed against George's skin
As he tried desperately to calm down.
"Deep breaths" he told his sickly pale and dirty reflection.
"George? Mate is that you?" Fred's sleep filled voice mumbled between the doorway. "You allrig-hey! Uhh, when did we get a dog?"
George panicked, he quickly ripped his blood stained sweater off his shaking body and gazed at the damage. Ruined, Mum would have to make another for him.
"Yeah uh..that's uh.. " George mumbled as he decidedly stuffed the sweater under the sink. "Mr. Snickles?"
Fred knocked on the bathroom door again. "Uhh his collar says his names Swatch....he's from shop 9."
George smacked his forehead in aggravation. Only he could pick a name as stupid as Mr. Snickles. "Oh yeah, uh.... she's a friend of mine. I'm watching him for the night. "
"Oh." Fred yawned. George hoped his brother bought the little white lie. "Speed then mate. We've got a shop to run."
"Yeah, just going to shower. "George said as he stripped off his his clothes and let the shower steam fill the room.
No doubt his twin would open the shop without him and George would join later.
Under the hot raining water George heaved a deep sigh. During the war things, like a random death, were practically expect. So it was easier to deal with when your hearing about it quite often. It puts you on guard, ready for what's to come.
George was not prepared in the slightest for today.
Nor was he prepared to see a little white fur ball nose under the curtain and jump right into his shower.
"Why hello there!" He laughed as the young pup thoroughly enjoyed the water. "Didn't your Mummy teach you not wash with strangers little one?"
Swatch simply nuzzled George's leg out of Spite and barked.
In truth, he hadn't meant to lead the small wolf-like dog into his apartment and surly not into his loo but, with how his early morning had started off, George was grateful for the comical pup from shop 9.
"All done?" He asked. Swatch merely blinked at him before jumping from the shower and shaking dry.
"Silly thing." George mumbled as he rushed to prepare himself for work.
"Ah. There's the Dodger now." Fred said as George stumbled down the stairwell, stuffing his shirt into his jeans and flattening his wet hair.
"Where have you been?!" A young girl named Marine asked. "We've been slammed while you've been off in a dolly daydream. "
"I uhh.. well you see-"George spoke nervously as he rubbed his neck.
"Come now Georgie, don't you work for us Marine?" Fred asked as he emerged from the back holding a box of exploding quills. Marine huffed before shoving a crate of puking pastels into George's arms. "Not when I'm out here saving your twin butts from goin bankrupt. "
"Love, I resent that." George said.
Fred smiled. "Especially since my butts much more manly than his feminine rump. "
George laughed mockingly at his twin. "He only dreams-"
"Just get back to work you two." Marine said cuttingly as she strolled off to help an elderly woman with a vomit mop.
George laughed awkwardly and shook his head.
"Good Georgie, play the part. Do it well and no one will know." He mumbled quietly.
"Ah sweetness!" A man with dark auburn hair boasted as George re-stocked the skiving snack boxes section. "Your not out! I've heard so much about these. Y'all ain't got em in America yet. Shame really-"
"Hey Georgie!" Fred roared from the lower level. George immediately craned his attention down to his brother and the Aura standing beside him.
The same Aura that took away the girl.
"I-I had better ah.." George said with a nervous stutter. How could they have known, who could have told, and why on earth was someone framing him for murder?
"Well uh, Thanks dude!" The customer shouted over the store's typical hustle and bustle. With his hands stuffed deep into his pants pockets, George quickly shuffled off to find his brother.
"Ah, man of the hour!" The aura boasted as George joined them. He was a very short, stocky bald man who dressed in a vivacious yellow suit. "Muledy, Charles Muledy." He said with pride as he took their hands forcefully. "You boys wouldn't have a more subdue place for our little chat now would ye," he pulled out a rather large cigar and lit it with his wand. "What do ye say?!"
The twins glanced back at Marine who looked about ready to do them in herself. "We really shouldn't leave-" Fred stated but the unfriendly look coming from the brutish man made George's nerves spike.
"Uhh-of-of course kind sir, this way." He interjected suddenly. Fred gave his brother a questioning look before mouthing a sullen ' sorry ' to the blonde working the register.
The twins led the man into their make shift office. At the moment it consisted of merely a desk, random stacks of parchment, and mostly over flow stock for the shop.
Muledy rolled his eyes at the place and stuffed his large rump into the chair behind the desk. He tossed his yellow loafers up onto the wood and conjured himself a goblet of wine.
The twins glanced at each other. For neither could believe that such a man was serious in that moment.
"May we help you sir?" Fred said in an annoyed tone that caused his brother to flinch slightly.
'There's no way they could have known. No one saw', George reminded himself.
"Well yes. I'll just get straight to it then." Muledy took a rather long puff from his cigar and blew it's contents at the twins. "How much do you boys know about that there Shop 9?"
George's, eyes widened and his heart raced. He tried to stuff his large hands deeper into his pockets but to no avail. He looked to his brother for clues but Fred merely shrugged.
"Not much." Fred folded his arms, clearly annoyed by Muledy's attitude. "Popped up not too long ago, was a dump then, still a dump now-"
"The new owner!" George butted in. "Is she alright? "
Muledy eyed George suspiciously before taking a swig of his goblet. "The woman who owns shop 9 is Jesslyn Harver. She is considered to be highly dangerous in these times."
George's brow furrowed. The girl he saw look more like a Hermione type than a mass murderer. Certainly they hadn't considered her for the culprit.
Muledy puffed the fat cigar arrogantly as George was reminded, once again, of how much he hated the smog. "For now we have her in custody under suspicion of murderous magic charges. But who knows how long that'll last with this one. I'd suggest that you two well mannered boys stay away from American, muggle lovin, trash."
The twins eyed each other. Well mannered? Them? Both were clearly annoyed by the man's cocky attitude.
Suddenly Fred smiled and winked at his brother before turning his attention back to the short Aura. George smirked knowingly, His twin was up to something.
"Well then Mr. Uhh Melody right?" Fred said loudly as he ushered the man out of his seat.
"Mul- LEADY." He corrected.
"Of course it is. " George piped up as he tossed a stocky, long arm around the man's pudgy shoulders.
"Unfortunately, that's all the time we have to spare with a shop to run and all." Fred boasted as they walked back towards the front door.
"Anything comes up and we'll be happy to keep in touch. Right Freddy?" George asked.
"Right you are Georgie. " Fred nodded.
"Now you boys keep out of trouble. Any Monkey business about these murders and it goes straight to me ye hear?" Muledy handed them each a card before slamming the door.
"What did you do?" George whispered to his twin.
Fred merely laughed and started counting. 3..... 2.... 1...
Slam! Bam! Boom!
Instantly Muledy rushed back through the door in attempt to rid himself or the smoke. Every customers attention turned to Charles Muledy. His suit and face now sporting that of the Mona Lisa.
Shock and awe expanded through the large shop as paint dripped playfully off the Auras coat tails.
"PAINTING POTS!" Fred shouted.
The twins shrugged. Might as well get in some advertising while they were at it.
"Our latest invention. Everything from Van Gogh to Clint!" George said.
"Even Dalli for the tad bit adventurous folks! Pick them up today with Marine at the register!" Fred explained.
George winced as Marine slammed her forehead onto the counter. They were clearly going to have to give her a raise by the end of the day.
As the crowed roared and cheered for their latest product, George gave a sigh of relief. He was off the hook, his name cleared. Never would he have to think back to the horrific scene of pungent orders and lifeless corpses. He could relax again. Fall back into the wondrous lifestyle of ignorant bliss.
Or so he thought.
After all... Life tends to have a sarcastic sense of humor. A type of irony that is both humorous and maddening. Both, George noted, is what makes the world such an interesting place.
He hoped that was the last they'd see of good Mr. Charles Muledy, hoped it was the last dead body he'd happen upon. Perhaps he'd tell Fred of it over a pint and they'd laugh about the crazy happenstance.
But George Weasley was no Oracle and, in that moment, as the crowd boasted and cheered for their success, he never would quite know just how far off his thoughts on the future actually were.
♠ ♠ ♠
Hey guys!
So this odd image sorta popped into my head of George's blood stained GW sweater with him holding Brown packages. Thus this story was born.
I quite like the contrary aspect of this fan fiction because I tend to place my characters in situations that would challenge them.
Especially when most of the twins fan fiction is all happy go lucky super fun time with the same mundane female character bouncing about. I wanted to flip that a bit. Keep the humor, define the twins as individuals, give them their own quirks, but place them into situations that would pull from their characters rather than water them down.
I dunno, I'm rambling.
I'm still writing my other stories as well, so lots to come.

Feel free to let me know what ya think. I love hearing from the readers!

As always..
With love~ AshesX-3