"C'mon, Ron, can you think of any other way to go get Harry without using magic?"

Ron looked apprehensively back and forth between the twins.

Fred grinned. "We've done worse than this before, and we've never been caught."

Ron sighed, and the twins knew they had him. The youngest Weasely boy had sent twelve invitations to Harry, asking his best friend to come spend part of the summer before their second year at Hogwarts with him, but he hadn't received a single answer back. Ron had spent the last week ranting about how the Dursleys must have him locked in a cupboard somewhere, and the twins had seen their chance. Ever since their father had "fixed" the old, green car, the boys had been dying to try it out. Now, not only were they going to get to drive it, but they'd have a partial scapegoat.

"We'll just wait until dark," George said, throwing his arm around his younger brother's shoulder and leading him to where the rest of the family was waiting for dinner, "and slip out completely unnoticed. Fred and I do it all the time."

"You've never noticed us going missing, have you?"

"No, but—"

"There!" Fred said triumphantly. "You see? It's perfect!"

Ron didn't have a chance to argue as the twins dragged him into the dinning room.

After a few false starts and one sickening moment when the nose of the car had dipped to almost vertical, the boys were on their way to #4 Privet Drive.

"Fred, where did you learn to drive?" George asked, steadying himself on the dashboard.

"I didn't," the boy quipped, turning around briefly in his seat to glance at Ron. "How are you doing back there?"

Ron had his head between his knees and was looking decidedly green. "I'm just going to close my eyes and plug my ears. Poke me when we get there."

"Will do," George answered cheerily and then turned to Fred. "So how long 'til we get there?"

Fred squinted at the speedometer, hit it with his fist, and then squinted at it again. "This says we're going 150 kilometers/hour... that can't be right."

"Well, the wheels aren't exactly making contact with the ground. Maybe it's just confused."

A muffled voice came from the back seat. "Or maybe we're actually going that fast!"

George turned around. "I thought your ears were plugged."

"Lesson learned," Ron mumbled, shoving his fingers back in his ears and screwing his eyes shut as the car dipped again.

Fred grinned as his twin turned back around. "Is there any particular reason you want our little brother to be temporarily deaf?"

George grinned and leaned over close to his twin. "Do you remember that story Dean Thomas was telling us about the boy and girl driving in the car and the girl... oh, damn. I can't remember the technical term."

"Gave him road-head?" Fred offered innocently.

"Ah, yes. That's the one."

"George, I can hardly give you road-head right now, as I am quite obviously driving."

George slid his hand down his twin's stomach to rest between the other boy's legs. "Yes, you quite obviously are. I, on the other hand, am not." George slid the bottom of Fred's robe open and leaned over the distance between their seats to blow a gentle blast of hot air on his twin's growing erection.

The car jerked slightly, and George chuckled. "I'm only going to do this if you promise you can drive straight."

Fred was silent for a moment, biting his lower lip in thought. After only a second's deliberation, he nodded tersely.

"Good." George touched his tongue lightly to the base of Fred's erection and licked slowly up its length to the tip, dipping briefly into the slit before terminating contact.

Fred grunted softly and lifted his hips a little off the seat, begging silently for his twin to continue. Avoiding the steering wheel as best he could, George positioned his head over his brother's crotch and quite willingly complied, swallowing the organ until he could feel it bumping the back of his throat. He began to bob his head gently, swirling his tongue around his twin in constantly changing patterns based on the small, guttural noises Fred made in the back of his throat.

George looked up through his lashes at his twin's face, chuckling low in his throat when he saw Fred's arm muscles tighten.

Fred closed his eyes for an instant and gasped as the small laugh vibrated around him. It was only a few more seconds before the boy uttered an almost incoherent warning and spilled into his twin's mouth.

George continued to bob his head, only slowing slightly, to milk every drop from his brother. When he was done, he rose from between Fred's legs to place a gentle kiss on the other boy's lips, lingering only long enough to slide his tongue in and out once before sitting back in his own seat.

Still breathing heavily, Fred turned to the passenger seat with a grin. "It would have been better if there was more traffic."

George laughed. "I agree. There's a shocking lack of flying cars nowadays."

Nodding, Fred looked intently out the windshield of the battered, green car. "I do believe we've reached our destination," he stated, and George had to give him credit for the fact that his voice barely wavered. "Poke Ron, will you?"

George turned around the inform his younger brother of their whereabouts, only to find himself face-to-face with a wide-eyed, drop-jawed, crimson-faced Ron Weasely. He paused for a moment before saying calmly, "We're here."

"So I heard," Ron said, his left eye twitching just the slightest bit.

Fred grinned, and when his voice came from the front seat it was decidedly amused. "What else did you hear?"