ooo Comment Fic!
this came out longer than expected... and strangely enough, it's still the shortest thing I've ever written. I'll put it in an actual post later. Enjoy!


Twenty, forty, sixty-five knuts.

Fred moved more deliberately now, with the aches and pains of a man far older than he. An inch to the left, the Healers said, and he’d have been worm food. He tried not to think about it that often.

Five, ten, fifteen, seventeen sickles.

Each coin was placed gently with a gnarled hand into neat stacks. He could see George dancing around the displays with a broom, humming atrociously to himself. Git couldn’t even hum along to the song currently playing on the Wireless.

Twenty-five galleons per stack, take away two for the samples.

“Oi, keep it down! I can’t count with your tone-deaf droning.”

“Sorry, Fred. I guess I don’t have an ear for music.”

“Wanker.”

Six pounds, eleven shillings. How many sickles is that again?

Fred set aside the Muggle money for the Gringott’s deposit. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes was always happy to cater to witches and wizards of every background, and there were more Muggle-borns running around Diagon Alley during Festivals. Today was Neville Longbottom’s turn to be honored.

Only two returns, one refunded and the other exchanged.

George finished cleaning and made his way to the counter. Fred ignored him as he scribbled the final calculations down. With small smile, he swept several stacks of coins into a deposit bag and placed the rest back in the till.

“A red-letter day, George.” Fred grabbed two cups from under the counter, carefully pouring out a generous amount of firewhiskey from a nearby bottle.

George gave the deposit bag a jangle and whistled. “Most definitely. And to think those mangy Death Eaters tried to close us down once.”

“No one can beat a Weasley.”

“And no one can stop mischief making.”

Fred raised his glass and smiled. “Give ‘em hell?”

“Give ‘em hell!”

The registers were balanced, the slates were clean. Everything was ready for a brand new day.