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Pretty Kitty	By : CherryStarburst Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 156654 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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The next morning, a pink flamingo landed on the Gryffindor table,
bearing a letter to Fred and George. The two looked absolutely
thrilled as they stroked the pink flamingo and marvelled over it –
naturally, they would be fascinated with such a flamboyant bird.

“Not at all subtle, is he?” Hermione muttered,
glaring at the flamingo. “He's on the bloody run, you'd think
he'd go with normal barn owls.”

Harry grinned. The
flamingo was, of course, from Sirius. Harry had got a letter as well,
inquiring about his health. Tension just seeped out
of the letter, which highly confused Harry. He wrote back that he was
fine, but worried about the corridor dreams he'd told Sirius about
before, on Hermione's urging.

Harry was desperately curious
about the letter to Fred and George. Undoubtedly, it contained some
prank ideas for their new shop. What else would Sirius write to the
two famous jokesters for?

The flamingo was soon sent off with
two replies, and soared from the hall, the students watching it in
awe. Umbridge's eyes bored into Harry, but he ignored the sensation
in favour of talking to George, who was hand feeding him- after the
flamingo arrival, Harry had been too curious to even think of
food.

“Weasley, please confine your vile displays of
affection to the privacy of your own rooms,” Snape snarled as
he passed them. George had merely given Harry the snogging of a
lifetime in return, making sure to make the tongue action
visible.

“Ten points from Gryffindor, and a detention
tomorrow night, Potter!” Snape snapped, paling. Charlie
suddenly materialised at his side, leaning against Snape, an arm on
his shoulder.

“That's a bit harsh, Severus,” he
said happily, mere millimetres from Snape's ear. Snape growled low in
his throat, struggled away from Charlie, and stomped away. Charlie
watched him go for a moment, a strange smile that the twins sometimes
gave Harry on his face, before sitting down next to his charge,
scrubbing the unruly hair.

“Harry, how've you been?”
Charlie asked, gaze shooting to Harry's bandaged right hand, before
he tore his eyes away. Harry frowned, dropping his hand from the
table to hide it underneath.

“I'm all right, you?”
Harry asked cautiously. First Sirius, then Charlie- why was everyone
asking about his health? Charlie nodded, looking like he didn't
believe a word Harry said. Harry caught him rolling his eyes at Fred
and George, who seemed to know exactly what the gesture
meant.

“Right, well, first lesson and all, let's go,”
Harry said abruptly, grabbing his bag and standing. They were keeping
secrets about him, he could tell from the heavy atmosphere, the
glances, the silences.

Ron and Hermione frowned. Hermione
looked at her watch. “But, Harry, classes don't start for half
an hour.”

Harry shrugged, turning, stuffing his hands in
his pockets, and walking away from the group. Fred and George made to
rise and go after him, but Hermione stopped them with a glare, stood
herself, and dragged Ron with her after Harry.

He didn't need
the twins. For once, Harry needed his friends.

XxXxXxX

“What are they keeping
from me?” Harry asked, lying on a bench in the courtyard. It
was getting into winter, but there was a harsh sunlight that shone
down on that particular bench. He loved bathing in it.

“No
one's keeping anything,” Hermione assured him awkwardly,
wondering if it was really safe to tell Harry the twin's plan. His
pride was already smarting from the whole situation- he hated feeling
so weak and pathetic. He wouldn't take the news that the twins
planned to extract revenge for Harry
very well. He'd feel even weaker.

“Convincing,
Hermione,” Harry said sarcastically, before giving her an
apologetic look. She shrugged off the burst of anger- anyone who knew
Harry knew of his penchant for quick anger that he took out on others
accidentally.

Sometimes, she wondered if the twins were good
for Harry. They taunted him, teased him, and sometimes seemed to have
as much emotional depth as Ron. However, she couldn't deny that they
actually handled him very well; uncontrollable rage, crippling
stubbornness, painful insecurities and all.

“They've
told me they love me,” Harry suddenly told her. Ron gasped at
him, looking both intrigued and awkward. Harry had forgotten he was
there, and grimaced in apology.

“You mean they have
feelings?” Ron asked sceptically. Harry bristled and Hermione
giggled, which made Ron look slightly smug and smile dreamily at
Hermione.

“Oh, get a room,” Harry groaned. The two
flushed to the roots of their hair and looked away from each other.
Harry grinned, shaking his head at the pair.

“And how
do you feel?” Ron asked- Harry and Hermione couldn't help
staring at him in shock, causing Ron to scowl at them. “What?
Harry's not just your
mate, you know,” he said to Hermione, who huffed.

“Wow,
Ron, erm...” Harry said, flabbergasted and unable to get much
more than stutters out. Of all the people he'd imagine himself
speaking of his love life to, Ron was the last on that list. Ron
looked just as uncomfortable, but also desperate. Harry bitterly
realised how little time he'd been spending with his friends.

“Well... I ... you-know... them back,” Harry
admitted slowly. Ron nodded at the admission.

“It was
obvious, that you, well...”

Hermione stared between the
two, shocked and rather amused. “Boys,” she
murmured.

“Aww, Hermione, they're completely adorable,”
twin voices said from behind her and, not feeling at all surprised,
she turned to see Fred and George grinning down at her.

“You
were there the whole time, weren't you?” she asked, already
knowing the answer. They shrugged uncomfortably, feeling slightly
like stalkers but unwilling to admit it. She rolled her eyes, turning
back to Harry, who was glaring at the twins.

“What are
you planning?” he asked them. The twins gave him looks of
innocence which, it seemed, didn't actually work on anyone. Harry
didn't buy it, and gazed at them flatly, still lying on the bench. He
was far too comfortable to move.

“Yee of little faith,”
Fred said, sighing dramatically. George shook his head.

“The
youth of today,” he murmured, gazing at Harry sadly. Harry
finally sat up, ready to threaten them with claws if need be.

“So
distrusting,” Fred added, sitting down behind Harry once the
boy sat up. Harry turned to snarl at him- Fred had been planning that
all along.

However, George sitting on Harry's legs distracted
him from Fred, and he yowled, attempting to shift his legs, and
George just laughed, having cast a weightless charm on himself
beforehand. No need to tell Harry that, though.

“You're
so fucking frustrating,” Harry said miserably as Fred wrapped
an arm around his waist and rested his chin on Harry's shoulder. He
looked around, taking note of the empty courtyard, and nibbled on
Harry's earlobe, which seemed to be a favourite spot for the twins.

“We could be fucking, in a rather... frustrating way,”
George whispered seductively in Harry's other ear. Harry briefly
wondered how on earth he'd moved so fast, before George licked the
length of the shell of Harry's ear.

“Oh Merlin,”
Ron mumbled. Hermione blushed brightly and dragged the boy away,
leaving the twins to it. They couldn't keep their hands to
themselves, it seemed.

“We're in public,” Harry
suddenly realised, and pushed at George's chest. George smirked,
grabbing Harry's hands and entwining their fingers.

“So
we are,” he agreed conversationally. Fred made a murmured
noise, nuzzling Harry's nose with his neck.

“Stop it!”
Harry yelled- he was trying to
stop this madness before the twins took this further and they got
caught, but they were being so frustrating and distracting.

George
huffed and pulled back, pouting. Fred groaned against Harry's neck
and then withdrew, leaving a completely confused Harry. Why on earth
would the twins sacrifice everything they'd done to keep their
secret, especially with people like Malfoy lurking in the
shadows?

“I still haven't forgiven you for last night,”
Harry mumbled. Fred laughed and wrapped an arm around Harry's
shoulder, pulling the boy to him. Harry snuggled his chest, and
George wrapped an arm around both him and Fred, pulling the two into
a strong embrace.

“Probably shouldn't go around letting
other people cut up your hands then,” George told him, taking
hold of aforementioned hand and carefully unwrapping the bandage on
it. Harry looked down, raising his eyebrows when he noticed that the
cuts had healed more than they should have.

“What did
you put on them?” Harry asked cautiously- there were
side-effects, weren't there? “I'm not going to turn into a
giant canary or something, right?”

“No, don't
worry. We use our superpowers for good as well as evil,” Fred
told him, smiling at Harry's disbelieving look. “Sometimes.”

“...In very rare cases, ones that involve a certain
kitten with a penchant for getting into all sorts of trouble,”
George teased, brushing back the hair on Harry's face. He lightly
kissed the famous lightning bolt scar that adorned the boy's
forehead.

“Not that we'd have him any other way, of
course,” Fred added, rubbing Harry's cat ears.

Purring
contently, chest warm and stomach doing flip-flops, Harry completely
forgot that he'd ever been suspicious of the twins for keeping
secrets from him.

XxXxXxX

George strode confidently into
Umbridge's office, allowing the door behind him to shut with a bang,
and smiling in satisfaction as Umbridge jumped slightly.

“Ah,
Mr Weasley,” Umbridge greeted, slightly taken aback. However,
like most of the teachers, she had become used to the Weasley twin's
boisterous ways.

George smiled back pleasantly in greeting.
“Professor Umbridge, good evening,” he said. Umbridge
shook her head, setting her quill down. Sometimes she just didn't
understand why teachers allowed the twins to continue with their
disrespectful, disruptive ways. When she climbed her way up to the
top, the Weasley twins would be the first things to go.

“Good
evening. Now, if you would just take a seat? You'll be writing lines
today,” Umbridge told him. George masked his anger with a fake
laugh as he sat at a table situated in front of Umbridge's desk, a
blank piece of parchment and black quill laid out for him. George
narrowed his eyes at the quill, the root of Harry's suffering.

“What
will my lines be?” George asked, looking to Umbridge.

“I
must not show disrespect to authority,”
Umbridge told him. George grit his teeth, remembering the words
carved on Harry's hand. I must not tell lies. “Something
the matter?” she asked sweetly, mistaking George's reaction for
frustration at what he had to write.

“Nothing at all,”
George said, reaching into his pocket to finger the quill that was in
there. “But, Professor, how will I write? There's no ink,”
he asked the obvious question, as she would expect him to.

“You
won't be needing ink,” she told him, looking vaguely sinister.
George wondered if that's what she had said to Harry, if Harry had
been naïve enough to think that the quill was just a magical
one. If she'd tricked him into believing it.

George picked up
the quill, seeing her watching him intently. He placed it to the
parchment, and wrote his line.

Nothing would have prepared him
for the shocking sting he felt on the back of his hand once the line
was completed. He hissed as the words were etched into his skin,
blood welling up in the wounds.

He wished he could just tear
Umbridge to shreds.

Umbridge's satisfied look further served
to inflame his fury. “Anything wrong?”

“No,”
George said. “Nothing at all.” She nodded and, finally
satisfied, looked back to her work. Now was George's
chance.

Pretending to set the quill to the parchment once
again, he quickly drew the other quill in his pocket out, and
efficiently swapped it with the one in his hand. Umbridge didn't look
up from her work.

George looked down at the parchment, seeing
the line that had been written in his own blood. His smirk was rather
cold as he began to write again.

I must not tell
lies.

Umbridge gasped,
dropping her quill and clutching her hand. George watched her as she
looked at her hand in astonishment, at the blood rising to the wounds
George knew he'd inflicted on her, at the words now carved into her
skin.

“You!” she spat, standing. George stood
along with her, and rounded his desk, until he was in front of hers.

“Me,” he confirmed, laughing at the look of
indescribable rage on her face, replacing the false sweetness that
was usually there.

“Dolores, Dolores, Dolores,”
he said quietly, enjoying the flinch she produced at each
disrespectful word. “That's just the least of what I can
do.”

“You insolent brat-” George raised a
hand, cutting her off. If she thought she could get away snarling at
him, she had another thing coming.

He fixed her with a
dangerous look, and watched the fear cross her face, the fear of what
he'd done, turning the tables on her completely. “If you ever
so much as touch one hair on Harry's head again, I will do
much worse, I will destroy
your life, and you
won't be able to do a thing to stop me.”

She stared at
him, agog. George backed away a little, producing, with a flourish,
the quill she'd used on Harry, used on him, from his pocket. “And
I have all the evidence I need to justify my actions.”

Umbridge's
eyes flitted to the wounds on her hand, which were still open and
bleeding when they should have already closed up. George winced
sympathetically. “That's going to leave a scar.”

Umbridge
continued to stare at her hand disbelievingly. “What have you
done?” she asked shakily. It seemed that all her confidence,
all her self-righteousness had disappeared when George had harmed
her, knocked her from her throne.

“Why, nothing,”
he said innocently, “it's more the question of what have you
done?” He grinned at her
uncomprehending expression. “Slipped up and accidentally used
your own blood quill, perhaps?”

“You'll pay, one
day,” she told him with quiet certainty. He was amazed she
hadn't gone completely mental and taken off a hundred house points.
But then again, she couldn't. She was stuck, and she knew it.

“No,
Professor. I think it's you who's
paying.” George patted her right hand comfortingly, fingers
finding the wound and digging in slightly. He then let go, gathered
his bag, and left the room, calling out a goodbye as he did so.

He
couldn't repress the chilling smile on his face as he walked to the
common room.

XxXxXxX

...
Okay, I didn't mean to make George quite
that evil. I assure you, he is still the same George we know and
love... Only slightly more mental, it seems.

I am so so very
sorry! I got a very large writer's block with the story (that might
seem evident in this chapter, everything felt so awkward, but I
couldn't think of a better way to write it). Please forgive me? I
feel really bad, but I honestly couldn't write anything for a while,
just wouldn't come.

So, is idiot!Harry back in his box where
he belongs? I doubt it somehow... Hope you review :D
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