the baby project — act one
" almost like a pregnancy "
﹙ 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗜𝗧𝗖𝗛 𝗜𝗡 𝗙𝗨𝗖𝗛𝗦𝗜𝗔. ﹚

IT TURNS OUT The Weasley Twins' intentions, weren't so chivalrous after all. But they were yet to find out.

On the whole, the rest of the long haul journey to Scotland was as normal as it usually was. Jazz teasing Quinn about her brother, Lance, and how the chances of a budding relationship between the Slytherin and the girl's twin brother were apparently very high, was of a normal occurrence. Gia failed to not stick a mention of the heartthrob Hufflepuff that happened to be sat only a few compartments over. And a neutral smile was spread across Addie's face because everything was that normal that she so loved when she returned to boarding school.

That was until the train made a halt into Hogsmeade Station, and the tracks weren't the only things that were grumbling.

Clayton was very reluctant to admit that he may have made a mistake when purchasing goods from the Weasley Twins, but the clutching of his stomach as he shuffled off of the train and onto Hogsmeade's Platform, told Addie that he didn't have to say anything for her to know.

Quinn's flushed cheeks as they trudged over to the carriages that would carry them off to the castle spoke for themselves. Quinn was desperately embarrassed by the concept of being fooled by Fred and George Weasley, and couldn't bear the thought of being so stupid. She tried her best to make it seem like she wasn't going to hurl the entirety of her stomach's contents onto the gravel pathway.

Jazz seemed more disgusted by the idea of possibly throwing up before the year even started, rather than being concerned about what made her ill in the first place. Jazz almost found it funny that the Weasleys were so quick to have a laugh — it was their last year after all — but the vomit aspect of their dilemma was the worst of it.

Gia didn't care what Addie thought about her carelessness regarding the Gryffindor's earlier decision to buy a box of Bertie Botts Every Flavour Jelly Beans, after ignoring Addie's adamant opinions on the redheaded twins were stated and her advice not to go forward with the purchase was given, because Gia had turned green in the face, and she was currently using Addie as an assistant to help her walk.

"I don't want to hear any 'I Told You So's' from you, Adelaide," Clayton grumbled in between groans of distressed nausea. He had his bag thrown over his shoulder, so his arm had a more accessible route to his stomach, so he could grasp onto it tighter.

"Well hey," Jazz started, pausing so she could swallow whatever just came up through her esophagus. She grimaced at the taste, speaking again once she was confident it had gone back down, "We don't know it was Fred and George." She defended, as the five of them scrambled onto a cart, Addie having a rather difficult time helping Gia get comfortable.

Addie kept thinking that just by having street-smarts, it didn't mean she deserved the labour of taking care of her now sick friends. On the plus side, they had yet to physically throw up. Although Addie didn't think it would be that long until that did happen. At least when they made it to the castle, Clayton, being the only other Hufflepuff, would be her only responsibility. Lance can take care of his sister; Jazz will be fine on her own; and maybe Percy Weasley should take Gia since it was his brothers that put her in that state.

Gia waggled her finger at Jazz, "Yeah, maybe it was the smoke we inhaled at Kings Cross. Could have been toxic or whatever."

Addie sighed, "Ah yes, because everyone here is currently suffering from a bad case of irritable bowels as well, aren't they Gianna? Not to mention, I'm sure a group of highly trained Wizards would easily let tonnes of poisonous gas flood a platform, the vast majority of whom are children." Addie rambled sarcastically, letting her back slump into the seat.

Jazz huffed, her lips rolling against each other, "So what if they had a bit of fun?" she asked almost drunkenly.

"Well I'm not the one that looks like they'll upchuck into oblivion," Addie replied, glancing over at a very uncomfortable Quinn Erwin. "Awfully quiet over their Quinnie."

Quinn kept her eye line down. She thought that even a glimpse at Addie — the perfect, healthy teenager, who didn't feel like she was going to heave — would put her over the edge and the deck of the carriage would soon be decorated with the details of her breakfast. "Does anyone have any water?" she mumbled. "I'm hoping I can just wash the vomit back down."

Addie hollowed out her mouth, and winced "Ooh, sorry, no. I don't prepare that much for when two imbeciles drug the sweets that I buy on the train. Try Gia though, she's about to regurgitate all the bad decisions she's ever made in about a second." She finished, staring at Gia in the eyes, with some kind of bone to pick.

Addie hadn't decided whether she found it funny that they were all soon to be hanging over their toilet seats, puking, or whether she just found it annoying that they failed to listen to her and now she had to live with the consequences. Including getting Fred and George's help to sort them back to the non-sick people they were a few hours ago.

"I think you're enjoying this a little too much, Addie," Gia nodded her head like a therapist would, her legs now clenched together, sweat lining her nose and mouth.

"I am awful aren't I?" Addie tilted her head to one side.

Clayton cleared his throat, clearly trying to avoid as much row as possible, "Yeah, when I said 'I don't want to hear any 'I Told You So's' from you'," Clayton said, "I didn't mean gloat that you're not ill just because you're boring."

Addie tried not to look offended, "I'm not boring, I just have common sense. It's not like you also haven't known Fred and George Weasley since we were eleven."

Jazz narrowed her eyes, "You know what," she said, "I think I've finally worked it out." Her face temporarily un-green and she looked smug all of a sudden like she deserved some kind of award for her greatness. How Jazz of her. Addie's forehead creased, and even Quinn looked up momentarily.

"You take that notebook of yours too seriously," Jazz stated finally.

Ah, Addie's notebook. Her "Book of Life" if you will. Her friends had quite frankly had enough of her pages lined with little tips for herself. Addie claimed that the reason they were all so recklessly stupid, was because they didn't have a book like hers of their own.

Addie once again felt as if she was being personally targeted just because she had avoided this stomach bug. "I do not," she guarded her book's reputation like it was real and had feelings.

     Addie's friends all gave her the same look (even Quinn managed some emotional response that wasn't just disgust): wides eyes serenaded with humming.

The trek up to the castle was not much better either. Addie had never once thought so much about how much effort and time it took just to get to school, until her friends found it impossible not to complain, and were suddenly ten times slower than they usually would be, as they fought the climb up to Hogwarts doors.

Laurie might have been her saving grace.

"Everything okay, over here?" the oldest Sweeney asked, placing a hand on her sister's shoulder after she picked up her pace just to meet her sister by her side.

"Unless non-stop groaning is classed as 'unprovoking' in your books, then yes, everything is perfectly fine," Addie replied, scuffing her feet, readjusting the extra three bags that she now had draped over her back. Clayton had guilt-tripped her into carrying his; Gia threatened to angle her vomit-hole at Addie when she felt it coming if Addie didn't agree to "help her out a little", and Addie took pity on Quinn, and so took another extra load.

Laurie stifled a laugh, as Addie caught her foot on a loan rock and almost fell face-first into a pile of fresh mud. Addie was beginning to realize that no, she did not find her friends taking ill after they were pranked by the Weasley twins funny. At all. And at this rate, she probably wouldn't find it as amusing as she should until it was far enough into the future that her friends wouldn't make her the villain. Which at the moment, just by smirking at their faces, which were getting greener by the second, Addie was most definitely the bad guy.

It made her wonder if she had chosen the right friends or not when she was eleven, because how is she more villainous than Fred and George Weasley in a situation where they are quite clearly the antagonists?

"What happened?" Laurie whispered into her sister's ear as they approached the large double doors at the end of what, ten seconds ago, felt like a neverending spiral of muscle pain and backache.

"They got pranked," Addie rolled her eyes, glancing back at a very pale, very sullen-looking Quinn Erwin, her mouth constantly blowing up like the sick was about to arrive at any given second. Addie felt bad as she took a step away from the Ravenclaw girl, that, unlike now, she was very fond of. "And two guesses who by."

༺༻

"SURELY DRUGGING STUDENTS to the point that they are sick is against school policy?" Laurie questioned, once they had carefully deposited Quinn at the Ravenclaw table, beside her brother, so that she was now Lance's responsibility, not Addie's. They then lead Gia to the Gryffindor table and sat her down at the seat nearest the door — Gia claimed that sitting down helped with keeping the vomit at bay, and Addie was not going to take her chances. And Jazz claimed she'd be okay without their help — "It's only a few feet" she reassured.

Strolling over to the Hufflepuff table, Clayton nestled between the two sisters, using their arms as support, Addie and Laurie greeted their brother, before passing his group of friends, branching over to the far end of the table, nearest the array of staff.

Addie cocked an eyebrow at her sister's statement, "And when have Fred and George Weasley ever followed school policy? It's probably against the law, let alone Hogwarts rules, but nothing gets in the way of those two and their desperate desires to make others suffer."

Laurie nodded understandingly, as the three of them took their seats, besides Addie's dormmates, Maxine and Heidi. Clayton had yet to utter a word, out of fear that all that would come out was sicky slop, and he was not prepared for that level of embarrassment.

"It's been six years and we still haven't rubbed off on you, huh Sweeney?" a voice taunted from behind the trio of Badgers.

Fred Weasley's voice was insufferably recognizable, over the first-day buzz.

Laurie heard her sister suck in a sharp puff of air, before letting it out in one loud huff. Addie's lips pressed against each other as she swiveled in her seat, ignoring that she bashed a very ill and now even less comfortable Clayton in doing so.

"If your goal in life is to be a people pleaser, then I don't think you're going down the right path drugging people's sweets." Addie retorted, earning a touche nod from the two brothers.

"I see where you're coming from, but I think you'll find that everybody in this school loves us," George replied.

Fred gave an agreement nod, Laurie now watching the conversation unfold, cautious as to how her sister would react. "Some might even find our jokes funny," he grinned, dumbing it down to mock Addie's lack of ability to have fun.

"I don't doubt that you're not the only two imbeciles in this school," Addie shrugged.

"Well then, you might agree that 'drugged' is a strong word for a playful first day back prank, no?" George queried, his head inclined in Addie's direction, as he still sat awkwardly on his bench, their backs twisted to get a view of the Hufflepuff table.

When Clayton groaned once again, his back caving, sinking him further into the bench, if that was even possible, Addie snuck a look at her sister, who looked way too amused for her liking. Laurie's face practically radiated her desire for this interaction to never end. It made Laurie feel like she was more mature than Addie could ever manage.

Addie shook her head, "'Drugged' is the perfect word. That is what you did, isn't it? Sold them something they believed to be free of some kind of sickness bug? But was actually piled high with whatever crap they put in Puking Pastilles?"

Fred scoffed, "Well when you put it like that, it doesn't play us out to be the comical geniuses that we really are." he winked, pushed off of the seat with his legs, and returned to face away from the Hufflepuff table, resuming his conversations with his friends. "Tell Meadowes I wished her a speedy recovery," he called back, turning his head so his words could be heard with the utmost clarity.

George hung back for a moment, Addie staring daggers into his irises, "Hope you feel better Clayton," he smirked, although it was as clear as water that he didn't mean it whatsoever.

It pissed Addie off how the two of them could be so relaxed and amused at the green shades in her friend's cheeks. It was like they were two evil masterminds, set to ruin the lives of those around them. Except this was Fred and George Weasley — not Reggie and Ronnie Kray (although, oddly, there were a few too many parallels between the two duos). They were comedians, rebellious teens, two laughs.

Addie wanted to squeeze the fun out of them with her bare hands.

༺༻

IT WASN'T UNTIL THE DURATION time of the sorting ceremony reached thirty minutes, that Addie was as grateful as ever that she didn't feel as though she was about to hurl her insides onto the plate in front of her.

With Clayton's mumbles of complaint about the ever-worsening gooey feeling in his stomach and the ever-growing need for food in her own, Addie was not enjoying herself. And nor was Quinn Erwin. Or Gia Meadowes. And despite her confidence, neither was Jazz Sanderson.

At least it would be her last.

"To our newcomers," said Dumbledore finally marking the long-awaited ending of the ceremony, "Welcome! To our old hands — welcome back!" he grinned broadly, like everything in the little World of Dumbledore was bright and shiny, whereas Addie was holding her breath at the thought that one of her friends could reak of puke any second. They seemed to be holding it in so far. "There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

After light applause, and appreciative laughs, the room was filled with the delicious scent of hot food, and gravy mixed with mashed potatoes — it may even be strong enough to disguise the odor of freshly brewed, freshly emitted, sick, for whenever that time came.

Clayton didn't move. He didn't even touch his knife and fork, even as Addie and Laurie sheepishly helped themselves to the juicy turkey, and Yorkshire puddings displayed out in front of them.

Addie soon gave up with feeling guilty since she was greedily eating two portions of a Sunday Roast, whilst Clayton beside her groaned continuously, Gia (who was sat alone, and away from her dormmates Angelina and Katie due to wanting to be near the exit so she could make a dash for it if need be) pushed vegetables around on her plate, Jazz tried her best to laugh with her teammates but still swallowed the urge to barf, and Quinn — oh bless her! — looked like tears might also pour from her face, as well as vomit from her mouth. She gave up feeling guilty because she was smart enough not to fall for a prank delivered by the Weasley Twins.

Besides, the roast potatoes were practically screaming at her. She was hungry too, don't forget. Her stomach just had the capability to keep whatever she ate down.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," Dumbledore spoke, getting to his feet, now that the noise was beginning to die down, and the plates were almost licked clean. "First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students — and a few of our older students ought to know by now too. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door."

Addie heard Fred and George fake a dramatic yawn from behind her, and the itching regret for choosing the seats they had, was once again creeping up on her.

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. We are very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking Care of Magical Creatures lessons; we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a round of polite but fairly unenthusiastic applause, as Addie glanced over to the teachers in question. Addie had surely not missed Professor Grubbly-Plank, but she wasn't sure how much longer she could deal with Hagrid teaching after last years' fiasco. She then turned her attention to the woman — bushy hair, tight expression, insane amounts of pink. Not what she and the others had expected, that's for sure.

Rita Skeeter was perched beside the pink woman — a small notebook and quill resting under her big nose (a literal and figurative description) and Addie wondered why they had let the journalist (if you could even call her that) back into the castle after last year. Spreading lies, and illegally stalking minors around school was surely a big enough reason to keep her barred from the grounds.

"Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the —"

He broke off, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge. The room fell even more silent than it was beforehand.

Addie glanced a puzzled look at her sister, then at Maxine who was on the other side of her, just as baffled.

The witch in pink cleared her throat, with a quaint "Hem, hem" and it was now clear that the short woman was standing up, preparing to deliver a speech.

She stepped forward, approaching the headmaster and taking his place at the front of the room — the clacking of her heels against the floorboards was nearly deafening. It was hard not to cringe.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."

Addie tried not to grimace. And not at another grumble from Clayton, but at how high-pitched her voice was. Like a little girl trying desperately to be good at singing, but it just never worked out. She fluffed her fuchsia cardigan and continued.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!"

Addie was almost certain that no one looked even remotely happy. The majority of them were stuffed, the other half exhausted and longing for the four-poster bed that waited for them in their dorms. Not to mention the four students that had been fooled by their own classmates, and now were very close to throwing up over those around them. And no one wanted to be spoken to like they were five years old.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!" Umbridge continued, and suddenly, it wasn't George Weasley's throat that Addie wanted to strangle.

There were a few whispers followed by giggles, which the Professor clearly wasn't fond of. Her posture straightened out, and she gave another throat-clearing cough, accompanied by the same "Hem hem".

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the Wizarding community must be passed down through the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished, and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Even if she wasn't already tired from an eleven-hour train journey — Addie would like to reinsinuate the eleven-part — she would probably be asleep by now after this drag of a speech. Not only were new professors not supposed to give a speech, but it wasn't supposed to be the length of a Marathon.

"Which is why, this year, the first of many in the foreseeable future, the Ministry of Magic and I will be working closely on the preparation of our older students, with hopes of valuable results."

Addie winced again. She didn't like the idea of "working closely" with this woman. She didn't like the idea of the witch even teaching, let alone, creating a "trusting bond" with a bitch like her.

Addie stifled a yawn, at the continuation of what seemed like a neverending speech, from an unlikeable woman who wasn't supposed to give one.

"Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

Dumbledore clapped, as Umbridge took her seat once again. A few students joined in with light applause, but all the teachers managed was the bringing together of their hands — Addie didn't blame them. Five minutes was long enough to realize that Professor Umbridge was terrible at first impressions, therefore undeserving of any kind of physical praise.

"Someone needs to tell her that pink has gone out of fashion."

Those were the first words Clayton had spoken in almost half an hour, and Addie was surprised at how good the point he was making was. It was nice to know he was still hanging on.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge," the Headmaster struggled to force a smile, "That was most illuminating," he said, bowing to her. "Now — as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held — "

But once again, Professor Dumbledore failed to continue his speech, when yet another interruption broke his flow of words. This time, it was Jazz Sanderson, yelping as she huddled over poor old Cassius Warrington, her stomach clutched, and her face contorted — vomit spilling out of her mouth.

The Headmaster didn't know what to do. Cassius sure as hell didn't know what to do. And Addie felt completely trapped in a void of solemn darkness, with a hint of embarrassment and annoyance, and a taste of pity, where all she could do was sigh, as the rest of the room made various noises to express their disgust.

Addie gulped, pushing her plate further away from her to allow room for her slouching elbows to rest, "Well this is going to be a fun night."

༺༻

NO ONE SHOULD EVER HAVE TO nurture four teenagers at 10 O'Clock at night on a Sunday evening as they projectile vomited into various buckets around an infirmary. Addie should know — she's experiencing it right now.

With the reluctant help from her older sister, Laurie, and the school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, Addie managed to help transport her four friends to the Hospital wing, providing them with water, and buckets, all the while sweating more than she'd like to admit.

     When they got there, however, the four friends were not the only ones heaving their guts into a bucket. It appeared several people had fallen for the Weasley Twins' substitute sweet seller getup and bought their own drugged sweets. Addie wondered if any of them had ratted the two boys out yet.

The nurse had fled the scene to the Greenhouses to ask Professor Sprout if the Herbology department had anything to prevent further vomiting after Addie lied and told her that she hadn't a clue what made them so sick when she had been with them since they boarded the train in London.

As much as she hated the idea of the Weasley Twins taking advantage of her friends, she didn't want to be in their bad books for the rest of the year after this hell of a prank.

"Okay," Gia mumbled, her voice echoing into an iron basin, "I may have defended Fred and George a tad too much," she admitted.

Addie hummed, as she held Quinn's hair out of the Ravenclaw's eyes.

"It was still funny," Jazz coughed up, a bucket resting between her legs, as she lay sprawled out on a hospital bed. She tried to laugh, but the sick came before her chuckle, and the vomit erupted into the plastic bowl in front of her. Addie grimaced at the sight of her hair sweeping in front of her face and unfortunately landing in the now half-full bucket — the stench wafted over to her.

Clayton looked like a frog, with his legs coiled around a lone toilet, his face green as ever, "I don't think I'll have any guts by the end of this." he grumbled.

Addie was beginning to feel selfish. She wanted this sick (literally and figuratively), prolonged and tiresome evening nightmare to end. Not for her friends' benefit, but for her own. Her feet hurt and if she didn't shower in ten minutes, Addie feared her new robes would permanently smell like vomit.

Unfortunately for her, there were only two people she could ask to help. Two irritating, uncooperative, twins that had put her in her barf-loaded horror in the first place.

As she sped around the entire castle, all 414, 000 square feet, tirelessly unsettled, and full of despair, Addie believed the only place she hadn't searched — besides the places she wasn't permitted in — was the Kitchens.

She had tried the Gryffindor common room, but Ron Weasley swore at least three times to the Hufflepuff who kept pushing on, that his brothers weren't there and that she should probably check the Kitchens.

And so she ambled through the corridors and down into the basement where her own common room was situated — somewhere she desperately wished she could be.

The sicky odor followed her around, as she tickled the pear and gained entrance to the Hogwarts Kitchens. Addie thought maybe the smell of freshly baked buns might dampen the grossness of her current state.

Not once had she ever imagined this would be how she would spend her evening.

Fred and George Weasley were comfortably perched on two stools at the far end of the underground room, house-elves running around them, various plates and trays shakily balanced in their tiny hands — they were essentially being waited on hand and foot.

Addie regretted being there already.

George noticed her first, dropping the cake from his hands onto a plate, wiping the buttercream remains from the corner of his mouth, dusting his hands against each other, before getting from his seat, and meeting her halfway, "Ah, Sweeney, to what do we owe the pleasure?" he clapped his now crumb-free hands together.

Fred stood up now, "Can I offer you a cake? Scone? How about a Muffin?" he cracked a broad, mischievous smile, that crept higher and higher up his face, as Addie folded her arms into her chest.

It was so late, Addie was beginning to wonder what the difference was. However late it was, though, she was still awake enough not to make the mistake of taking any food-related offerings from these two.

"No thank you, Fred," she said, keeping her cool as surprising as that may be. Fred disappeared behind the kitchen counter. Muttering between him and a house-elf quickly followed. "As painful as this is to admit," she sighed, "I've come to ask for your help."

"Well done. That must have hurt your ego." George tucked his hands into his trouser pockets. If Addie had been graced by the Gods and been given the chance, she'd have changed into her pajamas at first glance. Apparently, George Weasley wasn't so desperate.

"It did, big time, so the faster you give me some kind of cure to whatever you drugged my friends with today, the better."

George's head swayed from left and then right, "I'm not sure if I know what you're talking about, Sweeney." he said, clicking his tongue, quite clearly playing dumb just for his own amusement.

"Cut the crap, Weasley." Addie snapped. "You sold them sweets? Acted as the old lady that pushes the train trolley? I called you out for it earlier?" she dragged on.

"Doesn't ring a bell."

Addie tutted, her tongue smacking against the roof of her mouth, "They're now vomiting profusely into a toilet?"

"That sounds somewhat familiar."

"Right," her eyes widened, her neck pushing forward — she was quite clearly growing impatient. Too clearly actually. And so, George knew just how to wind her up. "So can you help me out here?"

"I don't really do that," he said, shrugging, his hands still nuzzled in his pockets, as he casually stood, broad shoulders and all.

Addie looked lost, "Do what?"

"Prank people and then reverse it," he explained.

"Oh right." Addie rolled her eyes, and stepped closer, so her whisper could be heard, "Does it ruin the fun?"

George took his hands out of his pockets and clasped them together, letting them fall in front of him, "So you do understand." he grinned.

Addie huffed, growing increasingly tired with every reply he had stored in his twisted, ginger brain. "There's got to be something you can give me."

George took a Muffin  — no cake! — from the counter on his left and stuffed it in his mouth, "Oh, there is," he paused, chewed, swallowed, and spoke again, "I'm just debating whether I actually want to give it to you or not."

Addie fumbled around in her mind for something to say. Something that would end this terror. "I'll pay?" she suggested with zero confidence. Was she willing to pay them? No, no she was not.

George stared at the ceiling, his head rocking from side to side, "I'm feeling extra nice today," he said. Addie scoffed internally, to stop herself from rolling her eyes, "It being the first day back and all."

As Fred returned to the main parlor, now equipped with even more delights, that Addie could only assume were also going to contribute to another Weasley joke, George removed a tiny vial from the inside pocket of his robe.

After briefly examining the sides, George passed the little glass jar over to Addie. "There you are. Weasley specialty. Can't be brewed without the proper ingredients and persons."

Addie began inspecting it. There was no label, the glass was stained a deep black, and as far as she could tell, the vial contained some kind of mysterious liquid, that bubbled here and there.

"And you haven't just given me something that does absolutely nothing right?" she asked, the bottle grasped in her hands, as she stared up at him. "Because that sounded very pretentious."

"Nope," George popped the "P" sound. Addie thought he looked too smug for this to actually be a reliable antidote.

"And it won't make anything worse?"

"Come on," he chuckled, crossing his arms across his chest now, "you can always trust me."

Addie laughed hysterically, "Oh yeah? And where did that get the people currently hauling their guts out into a bucket in the hospital wing?"

Fred's smirk broadened, "You just answered your own question, Sweeney." he called out from the table at which he was now settled.

"Why are you so desperate to help them anyway?" George asked. "It's their fault after all."

Addie rolled her eyes, "It's your fault actually. You sold them the sweets."

"Yeah," he replied, with a "duh" sort of expression, "But they bought them." he finished, with a proud shrug.

"Fell right into the Weasley trap." Fred sang, some kind of confectionary still in his mouth. Addie had already seen too much chewed food that night — she came to them to stop her friends from throwing up, not to see more regurgitated crumbs.

"Exactly where you want them, right?" Addie cocked her head.

George let out a long, exasperated breath, "I'm just saying. If I were you I would tell them to get on with it and deal with it themselves. It's only a bit of vomit." he smiled.

"Yes, well, you like the concept of making others suffer for your own amusement, don't you, Weasley?" Addie taunted, her smile sarcastically resting on her cheeks.

"Just a tad," he admitted, no sign of remorse anywhere to be found. "You stink by the way," he added nonchalantly.

Addie gritted her teeth, biting back yet another urge to retaliate, "Just tell me what to do and I'll be on my way."

George pouted, "Leaving so soon, Adelaide?" he said, with such forced sadness, Addie would be the one to vomit next.

Her caustic smile grew, "Wish it could be sooner."

George let his arms drop to his sides, as he walked back over to his brother, hopping onto the stool and finding a napkin for his shirt, "A drop each should do it. Adiós muchacha."

Now with a cure to stop the constant puking, Addie thought her evening of wincing and grimacing and contorting her face would be over. But no. "Please don't speak Spanish ever again."

𝗔𝗗𝗗𝗜𝗘'𝗦 𝗧𝗜𝗣 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗬 ━━

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