"Stripey hair."
Harry's gaze darted from one twin to the other as they spoke. Following their conversation was a bit tricky, but he was soon able to pick out small differences in their tones and the way their mouths twitched around words. "Didya really do that to your brother?"
"Sure. Mum was a bit--"
"Put out by it, but--"
"Less than Perce was, 'specially--"
"Once we told her it'd wear off before the prat--"
"Had to be at school."
The four boys stood close together, with Harry still holding Treacle in his arms.
"C'n I pet her, too? I wanna pet her, too!" Ginny was right behind Harry, and he jumped, startled, when she spoke.
"Why don't we all head outdoors, now," Mrs. Weasley said suddenly, from near the door. Father was there, too, arms crossed over his chest. "And I'm sure Harry will let everyone have a chance to pet his kneazle, if they are very kind with her."
"Yes, ma'am," Harry said.
"Harry," Father said. "I am going to class now. Behave yourself for Mrs. Weasley."
Though his stomach did a little flip, Harry nodded, rubbing his chin along Treacle's head. "Yes, Father."
Father nodded in return. "I will see you at lunch time. Do make sure to check in with Hagrid this morning, if you can." He inclined his head slightly for Mrs. Weasley, and then he was gone.
"He's dark as a bat, that one," George said quietly.
"Charlie likes him all right," said Fred.
"Charlie likes dragons."
The twins grinned at each other, and then at Harry. "You gonna show--"
"Us around or what, Harry?"
"Outside," Mrs. Weasley said firmly and started to herd them toward the door. "Let's go."
Ron walked next to Harry as they made their way out of the dungeons and toward the Main Entrance. "We're gonna stay here during the days, Mum says, and go home after your Dad's done with classes. But just for a bit, and after that, you'll come to our place for days, 'cause there's stuff at home what won't get done by itself, Mum says."
"Yeah," Harry said quietly.
"Besides, the pitch we've got is easier to play on that the one here. And Mum says we wouldn't get a chance to play here, anyhow, not now that school's started up again."
"The pitch?"
"For Quidditch, you know. We've got one at home."
"A Quidditch pitch? Really?"
Ron grinned. "Yeah. We can play all the time when you're over."
Suddenly things didn't look quite so bleak. "That'll be brilliant!"
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A/N: I cannot believe it! They made me actually work at my day job yesterday, or I would have written this chapter then. I beg your forgiveness. Thanks for all the enthusiastic reviews and encouragement for this story! More Twins and pranks and learning to get along in the next chapter.
*Chapter 9*: Chapter 9
Whelp II -- The Wrath of Snape
By jharad17
Chapter Nine
Disclaimer: None of this is mine. Honest. She's rich, blond and British. I'm not.
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Severus hated leaving Harry behind for the day. Even if he was not leaving his son alone, but with the Weasleys, he still felt terrible about it, especially after yesterday debacle and Harry's rather obvious fears of being abandoned. He could not blame the child, not ever, for feeling like that, given what he had gone through for six years after his mother and James died. But Severus had been truthful about needing to work, either here or elsewhere, and at least here -- or at the Burrow -- Harry had more to do, and more children to play with than he would at Spinner's End.
Since he had taken breakfast with Harry in his rooms, and then waited for the Weasley clan to make their entrance, Severus was rushed in getting to his classroom to make sure all was readied for his first meeting with the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Fifth Years. He had just finished putting out tiny jars of dragon's blood for today's lesson when the students filed in. They were silent as they took their seats and set up their cauldrons.
Good. Seemed his reputation -- as a professor not to be trifled with -- was growing quickly. From the front of the classroom, he took roll then snapped out a few directions and watched the OWL preparatory class get started. In the previous couple days, he had found that Ravenclaws and Hufflepuff classes were far easier to manage than the others, if for no other reason than the Ravens just wanted to do their best on every assignment, and the Puffs would never dream of sabotaging any of their classmates' projects.
The Gryffindor-Slytherin combined classes . . . Well. That was a whole 'nother cauldron of mertlap. He would be more than grateful if he could manage to get those classes through the year without any of the students being blown up with their cauldrons. He had to watch them like a hawk.
This class was advanced enough -- and well-trained enough -- that he need only sweep through the room infrequently and not be beside the little blighters every second. He could even, occasionally, think about other things, like the last steps of the potion he was preparing for that bastard Filch -- and how he would approach Albus if the horrid man protested taking it -- or his son and how his day might be going with a passel of Weasleys surrounding him.
He supposed he would find out at lunch time.
---
Mrs. Weasley led the children outside, and started down the slope of the hillside just beyond the steps leading to the Front Entrance. Harry let Treacle out of his arms as soon as they reached the steps, and she bounded down the hill, though she stayed fairly close to Harry. He watched her play, rolling in the grass and pouncing on stray leaves, while Ron kept chatting to him the whole time, about Quidditch mostly. Harry didn't really know enough about the sport except what he had heard others say, or what Father had read to him, for him to make any comments back. But that was okay. He was fine being quiet. He was used to that, really.
What he was not used to -- and probably never would be -- was people sneaking up behind him, grabbing him bodily, and throwing him into the air.
When that happened, when they were half way down the hill, Harry's breath seized in his chest, and he curled his body into a tiny ball, limbs in tight, arms protectively over his head as he went up, even if only an inch or two, and then came down. Expecting to hit the ground hard, like he would have if Dudders had been the one who grabbed him, Harry was startled to be caught again in strong pale arms, and to hear boyish laughter in his ears. With a gasp, when he was let go, Harry scrabbled away, all knees and elbows and sharp movements, until he was hiding behind a small outcropping of rock.
"Oi, Harry! Wassamatter?"
"George, you great prat!" Ron yelled. "You're not meant to grab him!"
"Boys!" Mrs. Weasley called, turning around in time to see Treacle fling herself in front of Harry to defend against anyone who meant him harm. "What's going on here?"
Ron pointed at the crouching, half hidden boy. "Mum, George grabbed Harry and frightened him."
"I didn't!"
With a small sigh, Mrs. Weasley frowned at the twin, then approached the snarling kneazle and the hidden boy and knelt in front of him, but did not try and touch either one. "Harry, love, it's all right. Georgie didn't mean to frighten you."
Blood pounded in his ears, and Harry stared at her, not really hearing her words, but rather the tone of her voice, which was oddly soothing. His breath came in stuttering gasps, and his palms were sweaty. He held his arms tight around his middle to keep them from shaking. He wasn't scared; of course not.
But he wanted his father suddenly. He couldn't say so, though. Father was busy. He was with his students, and Harry was in the way, and so had to go with Mrs. Weasley. He couldn't have Nelli, either, 'cause he was too much trouble.
Everyone was staring at him. Even the girl, Ginny. He ducked his head, wanting to hide forever. "M'sorry," he whispered. "Sorry, Mrs. Weasley."