Rebels → F.W

29

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"Molly is going to have kittens," Charlotte muttered under her breath, not actually meaning for Rian to hear. 
"What? Why? She have an affair with a cat? Is that possible in the wizarding world?" Sometimes, it was hard for Charlotte to remember that Rian was a muggleborn. 
"No. Well, not as far as I've checked. No, stop taking everything so literally, Connor." Nowadays, Charlotte only said that when she was annoyed with him. "Ok, so the kid?" 
"Daniel Averson. Nineteen. Not exactly a Death Eater just yet, but by the sounds of him, only a month or so away. Whitmore's talking to Malfoy about it now." 
"Since when did Whitmore run under my orders?" Charlotte asked jokingly. 
"Since this became your case." Both agents turned to see their boss almost right behind them. "Agent Malfoy, it seems with all the crimes Mr. Malfoy has committed, he will get a death sentence, there is no stopping that. However, he has released a small amount of information. I will deal with that as appropriate. As for now, go home. You will all be part of the force taking Mr. Malfoy to his sentence." 
"Yes, sir," the pair said in simultaneously. 
"Well, then," Rian added, as they walked away. "I guess Molly isn't going to have kittens at all." Charlotte nudged him as they headed to the Apparation station. 

"Charlotte Evangeline Malfoy!" Fred shouted the moment he saw Charlotte. "You are two hours later than you said you'd been? Where have you been?"
"'Evangeline'? Where'd you get that from?" Charlotte picked up on.
"Dunno. Guess I don't really know your middle name," he replied meekly.
"It's Anna," Charlotte corrected. "And it's been a long night. One extreme to the other. And an early morning."
"Why?"
"Part of the task force transferring my brother to his sentence."
"Prison?"
"Death."
"Gasp. He deserves it, Lottie," Fred consoled.
"Of course he does. I can't wait to get him there. Enough about that. How's George?" 
"Dramatic. I think he was made for the dramatic arts," Fred told her, rolling his eyes. "You'd think he was dying or something." Charlotte snorted. 
"I always thought you were the more dramatic one."
"Really?"
"Yeah. I mean, there was that time you cut yourself shaving and you screamed like you'd been stabbed."
"It hurt!"
"You went on about it for days!" 
"It's still not healed," Fred informed her. "Look." He shoved his face right in hers. Charlotte, who hadn't expected it, stumbled right into Fred. "Lottie!"
"Next time, give me a warning!"
"Oi, you two lovebirds! Get your booties to my deathbed!" 
"George, for the last time,..."