Pluto Projector.

Chapter Nine.

"Yeah, I am still here. Sorry," (Y/n) said into her phone. "One moment," she mouthed to Fred and George before disappearing back into the staff room. "Come back Saturday during my next shift. I would like to hear more about this task," she quietly told Narcissa, leading the way to a door that would take Narcissa out into an alleyway. "Lock it behind you," she requested. Narcissa merely nodded curtly, briefly wondering why (Y/n) didn't immediately scream for help, though she supposed (Y/n)— just like Narcissa herself— would do anything that could benefit her family.

"I think you ought to consider quitting if you value your good health," Narcissa said vaguely. (Y/n) tilted her head before hesitantly stepping back into the shop.

"Sorry," (Y/n) apologized to Fred and George as she flipped her phone shut and placed it into the back of her jeans pocket. She found it quite odd that clothing brands had stopped making front pockets in women's jeans.

"Who were you talking to?" George questioned.

"Dean," (Y/n) smiled. "He wanted to know when I was planning on doing my shopping, which we are doing this weekend, by the way," she explained. "Now, are you here to get something, or are you here to stand around and chat?"

"Can we stand around and chat?"

"No," (Y/n) said, shaking her head.

"It's deserted in here! Surely you need some company," Fred said. (Y/n) rose her eyebrows, pulling a sigh from Fred. "All right, fine... we'll send a bouquet to Mum... Ginny too."

"Might as well add one in for Hermione and Fleur," George added. "Yourself too... In fact, one for the whole household!" (Y/n) stared blankly at the two.

"That is, like, twelve bouquets!" (Y/n) exclaimed.

"Better get to making them," Fred said. (Y/n) pursed her lips.

"Fine," (Y/n) huffed.

"Only kidding," Fred assured. "We'll do... One for Mum and Dad's room, one for Ginny and Hermione's room, and one for yours and Fleur's," he nodded. "Or should I say our room?" He rose an eyebrow.

"Your room reeks of gunpowder," (Y/n) emphasised, taking up a pair of scissors. "But gunpowder is better than teenage boy," she added, sticking her tongue out.

"Hey! I smell nice," George said, smelling himself as though doubting his words.

"What colour ribbons?" (Y/n) asked, running her hand along those available.

"Your pick," George said.

"I will do purple and orange since that is your brand's signature colour," (Y/n) said, cutting three strips of each colour before grabbing three pieces of old newspaper and setting it all on the counter. "What arrangement of flowers are you thinking?"

"I don't know anything about flowers, (Y/n)," Fred said bluntly.

"Well, you ought to," (Y/n) smiled. "Even just the basics," she shrugged before sliding forward a laminated piece of paper that gave a simplistic run down of the meaning behind the flowers. Fred and George looked over it before making three separate arrangements— All of which were quite the burst of colours that (Y/n) somehow managed to pull off. She wrote three short notes for each of the arrangements in neat, loopy writing before sticking the small cardstock to a metal rod and adding it to the bouquets. She used the newspaper to wrap them and the ribbon to hold it all together. "Are you guys accompanying me to Grimmauld Place or is it Fleur and Bill?"

"Fleur and Bill," Fred answered. "I'm not too sure the adults trust us with that responsibility yet." (Y/n) snorted before pausing.

"Then what are you doing here? Is Lee running the shop again?"