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Love Is ... Thinking Alike

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This story is No. 1 in the series "Love Is ...". You may wish to read the series introduction first.

Summary: Fred and George hadn’t thought the Council representative would be this young. First story in the “Love Is ...” series.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Harry Potter > Xander-Centered > Pairing: Fred/George WeasleyCorruptedSmileFR1511,885075,2134 Feb 104 Feb 10Yes
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything you recognise, I probably do own everything you don't recognise and I’m not making any profit from writing or posting this story.

‘Buffy: the Vampire Slayer’ belongs to Joss Whedon and other writers, directors, producers, companies, etc. And I’ll let you in on a little secret, I’m not J.K. Rowling nor am I Warner Bros. I have never been nor will I ever be a blonde British lady. This means I don’t own ‘Harry Potter’ either. Because if I did, I would have done things differently. You can count on that.

Crossover: Buffy: the Vampire Slayer/Harry Potter.

Pairing: Slash pairing coming soon.

Rating: FR15, because there’s mild swearing, there are also some descriptions that aren’t on the real fluffy side unless you’re into that sort of thing and Xander’s being mercilessly teased by the twins.

Spoilers: Well, Fred didn’t die. George is gorgeous as ever. And Xander is a Slayers and Watchers’ Council’s representative with two eyes. It’s mostly my own crossover universe.

Summary: Fred and George hadn’t thought the Council representative would be this young. First story in the “Love Is ...” series.

time and/or place

Story: Love Is ... Thinking Alike

The Store’s Basement, June 12th


“Bollocks! I don’t understand, Fred. Why isn’t this working?” George was standing in the basement of their newest store, glaring at the experiment gone wrong. “Why does this bloody potion blow up every time I add the root of fungoria lamossa root?!”

Fred bit his lips, looking unsure as to what would be the perfect thing to say that would be able to soothe George’s frustration. He started to look around, searching for that one thing that would get George interested in something besides that damn potion. “Maybe we should just let this potion rest for a little while, George. Let’s just start on something else. There are enough things lying around this place that have been left unfinished for way too long time anyway.”

“But this really could have been useful, Fred. Imagine what this potion could do for our reputation!” George sighed. “Well, it doesn’t matter now, now does it? Unless . . . Are you absolutely sure that there is nothing else in this entire world that could work besides this fungoria lamossa root?”

“As I’ve told you a million times before, George, no, I haven’t been able to find anything that has the same proportions. Let’s face it; there simply isn’t anything even remotely close to this in the entire wizarding world.”

Fred knew he was too close to biting George’s head off, but his brother had asked that same question multiple times. And quite frankly, it was starting to get on his last nerve. Of course, any minute now George was going to start apologising for his behaviour.

“I know. I’m sorry,” George apologised, heaving a deep sigh again. “I know that you have said this all before, Fred, but it’s just so frustrating. I can tell that I’m probably close to the finding the solution to this problem, but it’s still just out of my reach!”

And there you had it. That was what you got, if you were close to someone: you really do start to think alike.


“Have you ever thought of looking for something similar to this root in the muggle world?”

Fred and George quickly turned around and looked in the direction of the door leading to the basement—the same door where the decidedly male voice had come from.

The stranger looking back at them was simply gorgeous. Tall, dark and handsome didn’t do him any justice. Long legs, a narrow waist, broad shoulders and muscled arms. Eyes the colour of whiskey, a mouth made for kissing and dark-brown, slightly tousled dark-brown hair.

“Oi, who are you?! This is private property, mate!” Fred said angrily, trying to cover up the fact that he had been checking out the stranger—going by the smirk said stranger was wearing, however, it hadn't worked.

“What was I supposed to do then?! I have an appointment with a Mr. George Weasley and a Mr. Fred Weasley, but when I got here no one was in the shop. So, I came down, because I had heard voices coming from this direction. I couldn’t help but overhear your *cough* conversation,” was the mocking answer. “Now answer my question, have you thought about looking for this root in the muggle world? Depending on what it is that you’re looking for, I may be able to help you.”

With the ease of years, both Fred and George ignored what had been said in favour of asking their own questions. Having five siblings and an overbearing—correction, overprotective mother had helped them develop that skill until it was as near to perfection as it would ever get.

“Wait a minute. Appointment? Are you Alexander Harris, the Slayers and Watchers’ Council’s representative? You seem so young.”

George just had to add the latter as the man didn’t seem that much younger than him and Fred. The latter was nodding along in total agreement with what he had asked.

“I do happen to be the Slayers and Watchers Council's representative, yes. Please, call me Xander, though. Call me anything else and I’m likely to accidentally not respond.”

“Call us Fred and George then,” Fred suggested. “There are simply too many Mr. Weasleys in our family.”

“I understand—no, actually I don’t understand.” Xander raised a confused eyebrow at the two.

George grinned at the confused look on Xander’s face. “That’s what happens when you’ve got a family that consists of a mother, a father, six sons and a daughter. Like Fred said: that’s a whole lot of Mr. Weasleys.”

“I see.” Xander smiled at the two brother who by now were standing right in front of him. “And getting back to that other thing you said, George: there can’t be that much of an age difference, because I'm twenty-four.”

“And we’re twenty-seven!” they said as one, grinning widely while they did so.

“Whoa, that’s some serious stereo that you’ve got going on there. Do you guys do that often; you know, the whole let’s-creep-people-out-by-saying-the-same-stuff-at-that-same-time thing?” Xander asked curiously.

“Sometimes. It all depends on what the subject is and about how we both feel about whatever we want to say about said subject. If we think alike then we speak alike,” George answered.

“Right, before we get totally off track . . .” Xander shook his head in surprise. “And I can’t believe I just said that. I’m the king of getting totally off track. What am I saying, I invented the whole getting off track thing. I—,” he babbled.

“Xander,” Fred interrupted him gently. “We get it. What were you going to say before we got totally off track?”

“Oh, I was going to ask you two about that appointment. Something was ordered here, but Giles didn’t think to tell me what it was that I was supposed to pick up and I only figured that out when I was already here. So, what I’m actually trying to ask here: you wouldn’t happen to know what this thing that I’m supposed to take with me is, would you?”

“We do happen to know what was ordered for the Council. Let me just get it.” George smiled reassuring at the nervous young man. “Fred, take the poor man upstairs and get him something to drink, will you?” And with those last words, he left the two alone while he went to get *it* as he had secretly dubbed it in his mind.


“This drink that your twin brother mentioned . . . Does it involve anything besides, you know, being a normal drink?” Xander asked, giving Fred a strange look that he could quite figure out.

‘It looks like a scared look to me, but that can’t be right. We’re just offering a drink, after all,’ Fred thought to himself.

“What do you mean, Xander? What else would I want to offer besides a drink when I offer a drink? In this case, though, George offered, of course.” Fred looked strangely at him.

“What I am trying to say is the following: does me going to your place with you for a drink involve me being sacrificed in ways that are too gory to tell at the end of it?” Xander asked.

He looked warily at Fred. ‘Until I get a satisfying answer, I’m not going anywhere with this guy. That’s for sure.’

Now Fred looked even more strangely at him. “What? No! No, it doesn't.”

“How about being eaten then? You know, sucking out my brains and marrow, crunching happily on my bones, drinking my blood; simply put, stuff that nightmares are made of.”

Fred cringed at the very descriptive explanation and the resulting images they painted in his mind. “No, not that either. Certainly not that.”

“Or maybe you need my hot body to lay eggs in for the coming five months or even five years?”

This made Fred burst out in laughter. “No! We’re wizards, Xander, not some kind of animal.”

Xander narrowed his eyes. “Is torture, painful pranks and/or other assorted kinkiness and badness involved when I go up those stairs?”

Fred bit his lip, but decided on telling the truth. “Maybe a prank, but that is it. And never a painful one.”

Now Xander was starting to look more relieved and more willing to go up the stairs for that drink. “Right, so, just a drink then?”

“Just a drink, Xander. I promise that it’s just going to be a drink. George and I don’t have any nefarious plans for you. Well, no painful ones. Unless you’re into that. Are you that kinky? Probably not going by the look on your face.”

Fred almost grinned, but he could tell that Xander was really worried about all the things that he had mentioned. ‘Such a strange life that he must have led, if he thinks that he needs to ask all these questions before going to get a drink.’

Xander squeaked when he heard that question. “What? No! No, I’m not into pain. My friends would probably argue with that statement, though, because of the amount of head injuries and broken body parts I have had. And what nefarious plans are you talking about?!”

“Oh, look! George is back.” Fred smirked, but didn’t answer Xander’s last question. ‘Wouldn’t do to let a guy that we have just met in on all our secrets.’

“Why are you still here, guys? Didn’t I ask you to go our flat to get Xander here a drink, Fred?” George asked curiously. “Never mind; don't answer that. Help me carry this stuff, Fred. This is much heavier than I remembered it being.”

Fred looked at Xander. “Normally we would have used magic for carrying stuff, but it's not a good idea to use it on this.”

End Love Is ... Thinking Alike.

A/N: I’m trying to keep a clear difference between American English and British English, but as neither is my native language, that’s sometimes difficult. So, please, constructive criticism is always welcomed. Or even just letting me know you liked it. Either is fine by me.

Flames or anything similar will be seriously laughed at. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. I’m the kind of person who laughs with just about anything Simon Amstell has to say. If you don’t know him, look him up. You’ll find out soon enough what his style is.

About the ages. If I remember correctly, Xander actually is younger than the twins with Xander’s year of birth being 1981 and the twins having been born in 1978. I decided on keeping the original ages, because I like Xander being younger than the twins.

This is the link to my homepage corrupted_smile. Everyone can join without having to be approved. The description of this group should explain everything.

The End

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