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perpetual_motionTitle: Not Dead
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Fred/Neville/George
Rating: G
Summary: A slice of war life.
Dis: Not mine. JK’s. I made it all up.
Author’s Notes: For![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
snapes_gurl, who requested it. I hope it meets with your approval.
Not Dead
By Perpetual Motion
Neville was thinner. The Muggle clothes he wore hung off of him a little unevenly, like he’d dropped a great deal of weight and not had the time to replace his clothes. When Fred and George crowded into the circular booth, one on either side, they both immediately tried to gauge just how much weight he’d lost.
“Are you eating?” George poked Neville in the ribs.
“Yes.” Neville squirmed away from George and got a poke in the ribs from Fred. “Stop it.”
“You’re thinner.”
“So are you two.”
“But we’ve always been thin.” This from Fred as he poked Neville again. “You don’t look quite right.”
Neville reached under the table, grabbed both of their hands, and pressed them down into the seat of the booth. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
Fred and George both sobered immediately at Neville’s admission. Tired meant lots of work. Tired meant Neville had been spending days and nights healing war wounds and burying the dead. “Has it been bad?” George slid his arm around the back of the booth and twined a few strands of Neville’s hair into his fingers.
“It’s no worse than I’ve seen before.” Neville pressed his head back against George’s fingers.
“But is it worse than it has been lately?” Fred placed his hand on Neville’s knee under the table.
The waitress walked up before Neville could answer. “Hi, welcome to Waffle Heaven. I’m Marie. What can I get for you?”
Fred looked at George. George looked at Fred. They grinned. Neville groaned and leaned forward until his forehead hit the table. “You shouldn’t ask them such an open-ended question.”
Fred and George both poked Neville in the ribs again before Fred started speaking with Marie. “What do I want, you ask?”
“I do believe that is what she asked, Fred.”
“Why, thank you, George. What do I want?”
“World peace?”
“Eh. It doesn’t interest me.”
“A gorgeous blonde?”
“Got it covered, thanks.” Fred patted Neville on the shoulder. Neville muttered something derogatory into the tabletop.
“How about tea like Mum makes, with extra honey and a chocolate biscuit?”
“A brilliant idea, but I doubt they have Mum’s recipe.”
“Think they’d let you in the back?”
“No.” Neville lifted his head from the table with a sigh and swatted both Fred and George on the arm. “Stop it. The both of you.” He gave the waitress his best, “Yes, they’re always like this. No, I can’t stop them”, look. “I would like a very large glass of milk, four blueberry waffles, a side of bacon, a cup of coffee, and a boiled egg.”
“Make it five blueberry waffles.” George poked Neville when he got a confused look. “We’ve got to fatten you back up. Can’t have you getting reedy.”
“Less of you to cuddle, you see.” Fred winked at Marie. “I’ll have what he’s having, but give me hashbrowns instead of bacon, tea instead of coffee, orange juice instead of milk, fried eggs instead of boiled, and make it six plain pancakes instead of four blueberry waffles.”
Marie didn’t look particularly amused. She looked at George. “And you?”
“I’ll have six blueberry pancakes, hashbrowns *and* bacon, and coffee, milk, *and* orange juice.”
“What, no egg?”
George looked aghast. “What? And ruin my figure?”
Marie tucked her pad into the pocket of her apron. “It’ll be a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” Neville wasn’t sure his mumble was heard over the sudden ruckus Fred and George started with their boisterous, mutual ‘thank you’ and waving. “You two are bloody impossible.”
“But we’re sweet as can be.” George pushed Neville’s hair off of his forehead. “And we’re yours for the night.”
Fred scooted over until he was pressed against Neville’s other side. “If you’ll take us, that is.”
Neville blushed a little-some habits couldn’t be stopped-and looked from Fred to George. “I guess that’s not so bad.”
“Now, that’s a high compliment, isn’t it Fred?”
“It certainly is, George.” Fred caught the sudden yawn that Neville tried to hide, and he and George sobered again. “Just how tired are you, Nev?”
“As tired as I’ve been for the last couple of years, I suppose. We’re not getting any more wounded than usual, but we’re still getting wounded.” Neville snuggled against the back of the booth and closed his eyes. “And I’ve hardly heard from you two in the last two months.” The way Neville said it, the sentence came out as a fact of life.
Fred and George shared another look, this one a grimace. George spoke first. “We’ve tried to send notes. Just quick little things-“
“Letting you know we’re not dead.”
“Right. But it’s hard to get any non-official documents smuggled along with the official documents.”
Fred grabbed his carryall from the edge of the booth and pulled it to him. “But, we did manage to save all the notes.” He pulled a small stack of somewhat tattered looking parchment from the bag and passed it over to Neville.
Neville opened his eyes and took the stack. He eyed string that was holding all of the notes together. “Where’ve I seen this before?”
“We may have nicked the drawstring from your sleep pants.”
“As a memento, of course.” George gestured to the pile of notes. “Untie it.”
Neville shook his head at their general attitude and untied the string. There were about a dozen notes in all.
Not dead. F&G
Still not dead F&G
Very, very tired, but not dead. G&F
Soaking wet and feverish, but not dead. F&G
Still feverish but dry and not dead. F&G
Fell into thorn bushes, but still not dead. G&F
Also fell into thorn bushes [different bushes], and also not dead. F&G
Still not dead. F&G
Yet again, not dead. F&G
Terrible food but not dead. G&F
Miss you but not dead. G&F
As always, not dead. F&G
Neville flipped through the notes a second time and noticed that not one had a date or any marker of place. He was reminded again of how cut off he was from Fred and George most of the time. They spied. He healed the wounded. There was no way to combine the two. There were too many wounded to send any trained Medi-Wizard out to take care of the spies. He spent most of his nights sleeping in fits, waiting for them to Apparate in with terrible wounds that he could not fix. “Next time, find a way to get these out. Please.”
Fred and George both nodded and answered at the same time. “Promise.”
Author: Perpetual Motion
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Fred/Neville/George
Rating: G
Summary: A slice of war life.
Dis: Not mine. JK’s. I made it all up.
Author’s Notes: For
snapes_gurl, who requested it. I hope it meets with your approval.Not Dead
By Perpetual Motion
Neville was thinner. The Muggle clothes he wore hung off of him a little unevenly, like he’d dropped a great deal of weight and not had the time to replace his clothes. When Fred and George crowded into the circular booth, one on either side, they both immediately tried to gauge just how much weight he’d lost.
“Are you eating?” George poked Neville in the ribs.
“Yes.” Neville squirmed away from George and got a poke in the ribs from Fred. “Stop it.”
“You’re thinner.”
“So are you two.”
“But we’ve always been thin.” This from Fred as he poked Neville again. “You don’t look quite right.”
Neville reached under the table, grabbed both of their hands, and pressed them down into the seat of the booth. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
Fred and George both sobered immediately at Neville’s admission. Tired meant lots of work. Tired meant Neville had been spending days and nights healing war wounds and burying the dead. “Has it been bad?” George slid his arm around the back of the booth and twined a few strands of Neville’s hair into his fingers.
“It’s no worse than I’ve seen before.” Neville pressed his head back against George’s fingers.
“But is it worse than it has been lately?” Fred placed his hand on Neville’s knee under the table.
The waitress walked up before Neville could answer. “Hi, welcome to Waffle Heaven. I’m Marie. What can I get for you?”
Fred looked at George. George looked at Fred. They grinned. Neville groaned and leaned forward until his forehead hit the table. “You shouldn’t ask them such an open-ended question.”
Fred and George both poked Neville in the ribs again before Fred started speaking with Marie. “What do I want, you ask?”
“I do believe that is what she asked, Fred.”
“Why, thank you, George. What do I want?”
“World peace?”
“Eh. It doesn’t interest me.”
“A gorgeous blonde?”
“Got it covered, thanks.” Fred patted Neville on the shoulder. Neville muttered something derogatory into the tabletop.
“How about tea like Mum makes, with extra honey and a chocolate biscuit?”
“A brilliant idea, but I doubt they have Mum’s recipe.”
“Think they’d let you in the back?”
“No.” Neville lifted his head from the table with a sigh and swatted both Fred and George on the arm. “Stop it. The both of you.” He gave the waitress his best, “Yes, they’re always like this. No, I can’t stop them”, look. “I would like a very large glass of milk, four blueberry waffles, a side of bacon, a cup of coffee, and a boiled egg.”
“Make it five blueberry waffles.” George poked Neville when he got a confused look. “We’ve got to fatten you back up. Can’t have you getting reedy.”
“Less of you to cuddle, you see.” Fred winked at Marie. “I’ll have what he’s having, but give me hashbrowns instead of bacon, tea instead of coffee, orange juice instead of milk, fried eggs instead of boiled, and make it six plain pancakes instead of four blueberry waffles.”
Marie didn’t look particularly amused. She looked at George. “And you?”
“I’ll have six blueberry pancakes, hashbrowns *and* bacon, and coffee, milk, *and* orange juice.”
“What, no egg?”
George looked aghast. “What? And ruin my figure?”
Marie tucked her pad into the pocket of her apron. “It’ll be a few minutes.”
“Thank you,” Neville wasn’t sure his mumble was heard over the sudden ruckus Fred and George started with their boisterous, mutual ‘thank you’ and waving. “You two are bloody impossible.”
“But we’re sweet as can be.” George pushed Neville’s hair off of his forehead. “And we’re yours for the night.”
Fred scooted over until he was pressed against Neville’s other side. “If you’ll take us, that is.”
Neville blushed a little-some habits couldn’t be stopped-and looked from Fred to George. “I guess that’s not so bad.”
“Now, that’s a high compliment, isn’t it Fred?”
“It certainly is, George.” Fred caught the sudden yawn that Neville tried to hide, and he and George sobered again. “Just how tired are you, Nev?”
“As tired as I’ve been for the last couple of years, I suppose. We’re not getting any more wounded than usual, but we’re still getting wounded.” Neville snuggled against the back of the booth and closed his eyes. “And I’ve hardly heard from you two in the last two months.” The way Neville said it, the sentence came out as a fact of life.
Fred and George shared another look, this one a grimace. George spoke first. “We’ve tried to send notes. Just quick little things-“
“Letting you know we’re not dead.”
“Right. But it’s hard to get any non-official documents smuggled along with the official documents.”
Fred grabbed his carryall from the edge of the booth and pulled it to him. “But, we did manage to save all the notes.” He pulled a small stack of somewhat tattered looking parchment from the bag and passed it over to Neville.
Neville opened his eyes and took the stack. He eyed string that was holding all of the notes together. “Where’ve I seen this before?”
“We may have nicked the drawstring from your sleep pants.”
“As a memento, of course.” George gestured to the pile of notes. “Untie it.”
Neville shook his head at their general attitude and untied the string. There were about a dozen notes in all.
Not dead. F&G
Still not dead F&G
Very, very tired, but not dead. G&F
Soaking wet and feverish, but not dead. F&G
Still feverish but dry and not dead. F&G
Fell into thorn bushes, but still not dead. G&F
Also fell into thorn bushes [different bushes], and also not dead. F&G
Still not dead. F&G
Yet again, not dead. F&G
Terrible food but not dead. G&F
Miss you but not dead. G&F
As always, not dead. F&G
Neville flipped through the notes a second time and noticed that not one had a date or any marker of place. He was reminded again of how cut off he was from Fred and George most of the time. They spied. He healed the wounded. There was no way to combine the two. There were too many wounded to send any trained Medi-Wizard out to take care of the spies. He spent most of his nights sleeping in fits, waiting for them to Apparate in with terrible wounds that he could not fix. “Next time, find a way to get these out. Please.”
Fred and George both nodded and answered at the same time. “Promise.”
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no subject
on 2005-01-25 08:47 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2005-01-25 08:52 pm (UTC)I based Marie off of the poor waitress at IHOP that had to deal with myself, my boyfriend, and three of our mutual guy friends as we all tried to dissect "Sideways" and "Hotel Rwanda" as she tried to take our order.
I think she would have walked away without mental scarring if K. hadn't mentioned how he was sorry the car didn't explode and "kill some folks" in "Sideways". [He's a sick bastard.]
no subject
on 2005-01-25 09:33 pm (UTC)I've read it over like 3 times, it is SO good.
You write the twins so well, but more than that, I love how you do Neville. Oh my GOD I love how you do Neville. I love him, I love this fic, and I love you.
This story makes me very happy! *hugs computer*
no subject
on 2005-01-25 09:35 pm (UTC)Very well.
::snogs the boy::
Seriously, I'm so glad you enjoyed it. It took me a half-dozen tries just to find an idea that the twins would work with. [Little fuckers are choosey.]
It was a blast once I got it going.
no subject
on 2005-01-25 10:05 pm (UTC)[Little fuckers are choosey.]
Indeed. When I had my fanfiction account, I had a fic about George's life, and he never damned did what I wanted. It's bloody hard to write the twins...
And you pull it off so well...