Chapter 1: Dobby and Winky

After running from Cedric and checking on their stash of incriminating evidence (commonly known as photos of people snogging, but that was no fun, so incriminating evidence was CLEARLY a better name), Fred and George decided to nip out to the kitchens for a bite to eat. After dodging several teachers, Filch, and that blasted cat of his, they finally made it to the portrait of the pear.

"Oochy-goochy-goo!" Fred trilled as he tickled the pear. The pear gave an answering giggle and swung wide open, revealing the kitchens at night. Although it wasn't as grand as the kitchens during the day, the twins still agreed that the kitchens looked good ANY time. ...especially when food was involved.

"Hello, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Weasley, what can Dobby get you?" asked the obediant little midget/house elf. Fred and George pondered this thought for a minute, then ordered all the leftovers from the Gryffindoor table (couldn't have themselves getting contaminated with other houses now, could they?).

"Yes, sirs. Coming right up, sirs." Dobby said, bowing twice then scurrying into the kitchen. Suddenly, the twins heard hiccuping not that unlike the Fat Lady's coming from a nearby corner. They turned around slowly and methodically to build up tension. Needless to say, after that much build-up, a hiccuping elf high on Butterbeer counts as anti-climatic.

"Hello! Who's this?" asked Fred, looking down at the tearful house elf. Dobby scurried back and explained all about Winky while she bawled about her old master.

"Well that's...er..." Fred started to say, but was at a loss for words.

"Slightly revolting and highly disappointing." George finished for him, blinking to get rid of the shock and/or revulsion.

"What is master doing without Winky? What shall he do?" bawled Winky, and the twins winced in unison.

"That's really sad. And I know it sounds OOC, but...Hermione might be, the slightest bit, mind, but...she might actually be right!" Fred said, clutching his hair in shock. George passed out. The elf carrying the tray squeaked when she saw George's fallen form, and then wailed in shock.

"Who has harmed the young master? Dobby, what have you done?" cried she, setting the tray to the side and crouching over George's body. Fred, who had finally come to his senses, pulled out his wand and woke him up.

"Ugh...nasty...thoughts...retching...praying to the bloody porcelain god...spew-ing..." George stopped and shivered in shock.

"Blimey. You're thinking about Hermione's bloody organization? This has REALLY gotten out of hand." Fred said, shaking his head, then yanking George up unceremoniously.

"C'mon, mate, let's eat. maybe it'll get our minds off nasty, evil things like spew." Fred continued, picking up the tray the house elf had put to the side and walking over to a nearby table.

"Thanks." George told the small elf, then scurried over to Fred. After eating a veritable feast and planning until their brains almost exploded (which had been known to happen in such cases as this), they noticed that it was past midnight.

"Bugger. After one of the most mistletoe-filled days in our lives we have to go to sleep. Perfect." Fred sighed as he stood up and stretched and something fell out of his pocket. The twins then left...or did they?

Meanwhile, Dobby, who was cleaning up after the twins, accidentally stepped on something. Dobby looked down curiously at the bottom of his foot, and there was a strange clipping of a plant...

"Winky? Do you know what this is?" asked Dobby, holding up the said piece of greenery. Winky hiccuped and looked blearily at what he held over their heads. Slowly, her eyes widened and she stuttered.

"Come on, Dobby, you know what this is, surely!" said Fred, sniggering as he stepped out of the shadows. George wasn't far behind.

"Yeah, everyone knows that it's mistletoe!" George chirped, grinning at the shocked face of the house elf. Fred shook his head at his anti-climatic twin.

"D-Dobby has heard of it, sir." Dobby stuttered out, then looked at Winky. Suddenly, in a drunken fit of courage, Winky leaped up and started to snog the snot out of Dobby.

Dobby's P.O.V.

Dobby is very shocked,, so Dobby shall refer to himself in third person. Mmm, Dobby likes.

Winky's P.O.V.

Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle, gurgle, mmm...this is better than Butterbeer! Huh, alliteration...Moaning Myrtle minds the mugwumps on Monday... This is fun!

No one's P.O.V.

The twins shivered in repulsion as Fred took the picture.

Snap!

The previously occupied house elves extracted themselves from each other, and looked up at the Fred and George oddly. Fred looked at George encouragingly, and he seemed to get the drift. But, as the George that we know and have come to love, did he understand? If you answered "A) Yes, indeed" than you're barmy.

"Nice to see that you're getting along, then. Ta-ta!" George said as he took the mistletoe and sashayed out of the room. Fred shook his head yet again at his brother. Someone was going to the Corner of Badness tonight, and it wasn't going to be him in the time-out seat.