AN: Yay everybody, Janey’s back! Although I claim all ownership for her, and the other OCs, a lot of the characters belong to JK Rowling �“ I’m sure you know which. This is fourth in the Janey Weasley series, you can read it alone, I guess, but you should probably read the first three, too ... but, you know, whatever you like. I’m just a humble teenage author!


Being Janey Weasley


I’d just had my formal interview for the position of the third senior partner for Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. I’d worked there for nearly three years already; Uncles Fred and George didn’t want me to start off at the top (although we’ve always agreed that this day would come), so I’d been working my way up, getting to know all aspects of the system. Of course, as far as formal interviews go, it wasn’t really all that formal, although they made it out to be.

“Ahem-hem ... you may enter,” Uncle George called, importantly. I couldn’t help but laugh as I entered their office to see them both sitting there bolt upright, holding papers out in front of them, with looks of utmost seriousness on their faces.

“Do you normally have fits of the giggles during crucial moments?” asked Uncle Fred, condescendingly.

“Oh, come on, Uncle Fred,” I protested, grinning. “You know I don’t. You were just so ... formal looking. It’s not like you.”

“That’s ‘Mr Weasley, Sir’, to you,” Uncle Fred replied.

“Not if we’re to be partners,” I pointed out.

“Have you been offered the post yet, Miss Weasley?” asked Uncle George.

“Um ... yes. We’ve agreed on this since seventh year when I asked if I could have a job with you when I left school. And so you said �“”

“Never mind that,” Uncle Fred cut in. “Would you describe yourself as resourceful?”

“I guess so. Remember that time I tricked you both into drinking that soup that turned your hair bright blue that time?”

Uncle George stifled a laugh at the memory, and Uncle Fred threw him a warning glance. “I recall it,” the latter said, still sounding stiff and haughty.

“Well, I think that proves I can be resourceful if necessary.”

“And modest?” asked Uncle George.

This one was easy. I smiled, and said, “There’s no place for modesty when you’re running a commercial enterprise such as this.” I knew to use exactly those words �“ it was their response to any comment ever made about their abundant self confidence. Not even Fred could keep himself from smiling a little.

“I see. So, what do you think you can bring into the business?”

“Well, I have good ideas for products, as you both know,” I began, shooting them unimpressed looks, “And I’ve an NEWT in Arithmancy because Mum wanted me to have a more specialised and academic subject �“ and you both know that, too �“ so I can prove I’m good with numbers and things for that side of the business.”

“I see you’re a ‘Miss’. You’re not married, then?” asked Uncle Fred, sceptically. My mouth dropped.

“You know very well I’m not!” I cried. He tutted, and began to make notes with a quill.

“Violent ... outbursts ... when ... private life ... is ... mentioned ...” he muttered to himself as he wrote.

“All right, all right! No, Sir, I’m not married. My boyfriend and I have been working on our careers before we make such a big step, but I assume that the day will eventually come.”

“And do you have children?” asked Uncle George, smirking a little.

“Don’t push it,” I snapped. Uncle Fred nodded, thinking.

“Very well, Miss Weasley. We will let you know when we come to a decision.”

“Decision?” I burst out, horrified. “What do you mean, decision? We’ve had a verbal agreement! Don’t tell me you’re interviewing other people for this?”

“Thank you, Miss Weasley, you may leave now.”

“Who? WHO?” I yelled, probably getting a little over agitated.

Instead of answering, Uncle George stood, and went to the door, opened it, and stuck his head out. “Annie, it’s time for your interview, now.”

“ANNIE?” I screeched, whirling around to see the girl who is technically my best friend coming into the office, happily. “What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to calm myself down.

“Your uncles told me to come,” she said. I turned and surveyed them both sceptically, as they slapped their hands to their foreheads.

“What else did we tell you?” Uncle George asked, in a kind tone, as Uncle Fred shook his head, exasperatedly.

“Um ... to pretend like I was coming for an interview because it would wind Janey up. Oh. Oops. Sorry.” She suddenly grimaced, and we couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“All right, game over. By the way Janey, although you’ve got the job, we were expecting you to try and get us ... like you did when you were a wee first year, I mean,” Uncle Fred said, shrugging. I grinned.

“Did you enjoy your coffees?” I asked them innocently. They looked at each other, and then down at their empty mugs, and then back at me. “I thought I’d stick to the classics. And, you know, if I could get you to fall for the exact same thing, it would be twice as impressive. This is slightly different, though, as I’m sure you noticed. The effects aren’t instantaneous �“ your hair isn’t blue just yet. Who knows when it could happen? Thank you very much for this great opportunity, Sirs.”

And I walked right out of the door, to hear Uncle George say happily, “We’ve raised her well.”

*~*~*

We celebrated my new job at Mum and Dad’s. Ever since David and I both left home, they’ve started having family meals twice a week, so we don’t drift apart. Frankie usually comes too, and if David could hold a girlfriend down for more than ten minutes, she would be invited as well, but so far that hasn’t happened. But this time, the grandparents were invited too. Grandma and Grandad Granger I don’t see very often, and they’re your typical grandparents when we do see them �“ but I’m not going to complain about that. Grandma Molly and Grandad Arthur were the same as always, although Grandma Molly did worry a little that I might end up like Uncles Fred and George �“ unmarried, and not tied down in any way.

“Oh, I don’t think so. I’m sure Frankie’s intentions are honourable, aren’t they?” Mum teased, and Frankie blushed.

“Mum!” I scolded, and she giggled.

“I should hope so,” Dad said gruffly, and I rolled my eyes.

“For goodness sake, Dad, don’t you start as well.”

He’s always been like this. He likes Frankie, but he’s still got this irrational overprotective thing ... Auntie Ginny says he was the same with her, that he always hated all her boyfriends, and even had a problem with his best friend dating her, so I shouldn’t worry about it too much. I don’t know why he would worry about my Uncle Harry, though �“ it’s clear he would never hurt her. Even in their married years, they’re still such a great couple. It’s a little nauseating, but Auntie Ginny is right �“ Dad still frowns and huffs a little bit around them, but mostly everyone ignores him, and Mum tells him to stop being so ridiculous.

Mum was fine with Frankie, though. She was a little wary when they first met, but she soon welcomed him right into the family, and she likes to wind him up and make him blush �“ like the comment about ‘honourable intentions’ she made.

Grandma Molly fell in love with him as soon as they met, fussing over him, and spoiling him like any of her own grandchildren, and Grandad Arthur likes to talk to him about Muggle things, since he comes from a Muggle background, but mostly Frankie finds it funny �“ I’m not sure Grandad Arthur has quite as much expert knowledge as he makes out, but like I said �“ Frankie finds it funny.

As for all my aunts and uncles, they all accepted him almost as quickly as Mum did, so there were no problems there �“ although I think there may have been a small “Hurt her and you’ll find yourself with no scalp” moment from Uncles Fred and George. But no one involved lets on what really happened, and there seems to be some kind of male understanding between them, so I’m not going to get in the way.

Mum served up some pasta to everyone, the only meal she can successfully cook for a large amount of people (but we all pretended we hadn’t noticed that) and we were halfway through our lively meal when Fred and George appeared with a loud crack. Frankie jumped so high, he managed to knock his plate, causing lots of tomato-type sauce to spill on him. His face immediately turned bright red, but Mum cleaned him up with a flick of her wand.

“All right, Frankie laddie?” asked Fred, clapping him on the back, and causing him to grow even redder.

“It’s not come into effect just yet, then?” I asked, smirking, and both my twin uncles suddenly stopped patronising my poor boyfriend and started coughing loudly.

“What, Janey?” asked Grandma Molly, suspiciously.

“Oh, nothing,” I said, breezily. There was an awkward silence, until Mum invited them to stay for dinner too.

“Much appreciated, Hermione,” Uncle George said, bowing, as Fred curtsied next to him, and they both pulled up a chair either side of Frankie. Honestly. While Dad shows his distrust by glowering and muttering to himself, uncles Fred and George go out of their way to make him as uncomfortable as possible. It’s a wonder he’s not fled to Australia by now. I mean, I’m nearly twenty-one for pity’s sake �“ we’ve been together almost six years. You’d think they would trust him by now.

Although, I gained some satisfaction from noticing that they both kept glancing at each other to check their hair hadn’t suddenly turned a shocking shade of blue. But no one else really noticed this except possibly Grandad Arthur, who kept seeing them doing this, and then looking over at me.

It was during pudding, however, that George’s hair suddenly popped loudly, and turned a vivid blue. I laughed so hard that my eyes begin to water, and after the initial shock, so did everybody else. And it was not until a few hours later, as the butterbeer continued to flow freely, that Fred’s hair suddenly went a similar colour, much to our amusement.

It was quite late into the night that we all returned to our respective homes. Frankie and I to the small flat we are renting near Diagon Alley (it’s not permanent, but it will do for now), David to the basement he is renting from Mum and Dad (since he has only just left Hogwarts, he hasn’t much money coming in, and he’s so accident prone and unreliable that any normal landlord would throw him out after a week), all the grandparents to their old houses, and Uncles Fred and George to their flat above the original Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes shop. Of course, they could easily afford a separate house each, in a nicer location, but they insist they prefer it that way �“ no one bothers to contradict them.

Before we left, Mum caught me on my own for a moment, and asked, “What are your plans for next Thursday, Janey?”

Blinking, I could only reply intelligently with a, “Huh?”, and Mum rolled her eyes despairingly.

“You know, Janey, your twenty-first birthday!”

This was news to me, but then I realised that she was absolutely right. How odd. “I don’t know,” I told her, thoughtfully. “I suppose there’ll be some kind of family gathering, won’t there?”

Mum bit her lip. “The whole family?” she asked, a little worried sounding. And it was justified, of course �“ the whole family amounts to about thirty people, including spouses and children. And then, there’d have to be Annie and Frankie, too, which means even more people. But Grandma Molly does enjoy it when everyone comes together, and it’s not like we all hate each other or anything.

I mentioned this to Mum, who nodded, and said, “All right, then. I’ll tell Molly to start rounding everybody up.” I nodded, and gave her a hug, and as I turned to go she said, “I’m proud of your new job, Janey. You deserve it.” And she smiled, and I knew she meant it, which was a relief �“ I sometimes worry that she thinks I should be doing something more worthwhile.

“Thanks, Mum,” I said, and she could tell I meant it, too.

*~*~*

Frankie and I came home from my twenty-first birthday gathering at around ten o’clock. He had been acting a little shifty all day, very suspicious if you ask me, but I hadn’t commented on it. It was busy at work, my new position as the third partner in the business was harder than you might imagine. And then later, at the party (which took place in the garden of Grandma Molly and Grandad Arthur, as these things always do) I was busy trying to catch up with all the various relatives. All in all, I hadn’t had much of a chance to find out what was up �“ until then.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, his cheeks flaming up, instantly, when I asked him.

“Uh huh,” I replied, folding my arms.

Suddenly, he dropped down to the floor, and said “Maney-will-you-jarry-me?”

“Huh?” I said then, unintelligently and unattractively, I’m sure. I thought he had said “Mainly will you Jeremy?” which, as you can imagine, was pretty confusing for me.

“I mean�“” he faltered for a moment, “�“Jarry, will you maney me?”

“Frankie,” I said, kindly I think, placing my hand on his shoulder, which, in his current position, came up to my waist. “Are you trying to ask me to marry you?”

His mouth fell open, a few unintelligible noises came out, before he decided to close it, and nod instead.

“All right, then.”

“All ... all right? Or, you know, All Right?” he asked, as if the final “all right” had capital letters at the start.

“All Right,” I replied smiling, before kneeling down next to him, and hugging him. “As in, ‘yes’, Frankie, if you were still confused.”

“Thanks for clearing that up,” he laughed, albeit a little nervously.

He might be a bit of a dork, but right then, tacky as it sounds, he was MY dork, and I completely loved him for it.

*~*~*

Coffee with Mum, Grandma Molly, and Auntie Ginny, a Saturday morning ritual. We were discussing David and his utter hopelessness quite happily, and I still hadn’t told them my Big News (also with capital letters at the start).

“... And that’s why I think a girlfriend would do him so much good,” I finished, referring to David’s need for someone to tell him, metaphorically, that matches are hot. Or rather, someone to let him know the difference between fun and downright dangerous, but in a happy, loving way (something I’ve never managed �“ not since he got a mind of his own aged sixteen, that is).

“Well, let’s hope Annie will do a good job then,” Auntie Ginny said, thoughtfully. I almost spat my coffee all down her t-shirt.

“Annie? As in, my friend, Annie? As in, the girl who wears orange bumblebee necklaces to improve what she calls her hotness factor? She’s with David? My brother, David? Is with ANNIE?” I was almost hysterical.

“I don’t know about any bumblebee necklaces, but she and your brother certainly looked ... like they were enjoying themselves, at your twenty-first,” Grandma Molly said, a prim note in her voice (which would have been hilarious if I hadn’t been freaking out at that point).

“I think they make a nice couple,” Mum said.

I fell back in my seat, without realising it. Annie and David. Who’d have thought it?

“Janey ...” Mum says, warily. What on Earth could be wrong? I thought, as I looked up. But I saw she was smiling, slowly.

“What’s that on your finger?” she asked, shocked (but in a good way). I heard Auntie Ginny gasp. I looked down at my hand, my eyes catching sight of the elegant yet modest ring Frankie and I picked out the day after my birthday.

“This?” I asked, casually, easily concealing a smile (if there’s one thing I can do well, it’s act. And it’s a good job too �“ being Hogwarts’s most notorious trickster required the odd fib or two at times). “This is just my engagement ring, that’s all.”

“Oh, Janey!” Grandma Molly cried, pulling me into a hug that was difficult to return. When I was finally released, Mum picked up where Grandma Molly left off, Auntie Ginny laughing next to us.

“Congratulations, Janey,” my aunt said, smiling widely.

“This causes for a celebration!” Grandma Molly decided, out loud. “Yes, and I’ll have to get planning. Would you like your own dress, or to use mine? I had my own you know, despite the cost, it’s in a trunk in the attic ...”

I saw Auntie Ginny shaking her head violently behind her mother, looking panicked, and making throat slitting motions with her hand.

Evidently, Mum noticed this too, and said, “No, I think Janey would like to have her own dress. You know how fashions change, Molly ...”

But Grandma Molly had already moved on to a new topic.

“Of course, I’ll make the cake myself, you can’t deny me that. How do you feel about tiers, or is that a little showy? I’m sure I’ve got a book with all sorts of wedding cakes in it. Just wait until Arthur hears! And where should the reception be, do you think? We proved on Thursday that the garden of The Burrow accommodates the family ... but I suppose Frankie has one too, doesn’t he?”

“Um, Grandma Molly,” I said, unsurely, “You’ve met Frankie’s family.”

“And then of course, there’s the ceremony itself! Will Frankie want somewhere traditionally Muggle, I wonder? Will you, since it will be your father paying, after all? Perhaps in the garden, that would be lovely ... but I suppose it would be a bit of a squash. When were you planning? I do like Spring weddings, but I suppose Autumn has an appeal ... even Winter can be nice, bridesmaids in nice red dress robes and things ...”

I meet eyes with my Mum, and then Auntie Ginny, and we all three began giggling madly, as Grandma Molly carried on. It felt more like we were best friends than mother, aunt and daughter. I liked it, and was suddenly immensely thankful for being born into the Weasley family.

Which made me realise that I would have to change my last name to Springs. I suppose Janey Springs is nice, but for some reason, I just don’t want to give up the name Weasley.

“You know, in some countries, women double barrel their names when they marry. You could be known as Janey Weasley-Springs,” Mum said, as if she read my thoughts. I looked alarmed at this, I’m sure, and she winked.

“It’s nice,” Auntie Ginny admitted, thoughtfully, as Grandma Molly panicked about flower arrangements. “It’s got a happy sound to it.”

“It’s a bit conceited sounding,” I said, but already I was repeating it over in my head.

Janey Weasley-Springs, partner of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, nice to meet you.

Janey Weasley-Springs, Frankie’s wife, so glad you could come.

My name is Janey Weasley-Springs, and I’ll be your lovesick cliché today ...

I chuckle to myself, and Auntie Ginny smiles. “Told you,” she said.

“Too bad I couldn’t do that,” Mum said, smiling. “Hermione Granger-Weasley. You think yours sounds conceited ... imagine trying to sign for something!”

We all laughed at that, except for Grandma Molly.

“And then there’s the catering to consider! I’m not sure I could provide for that many people, not unless you all want beans on toast ... which you might, of course, you never know with these modern women, but I must say I prefer the idea of a civilised meal on your wedding day ... Oh, but wouldn’t a Spring wedding be lovely! And it would match your new surname, of course. Unless you keep Weasley. But, you know, some women double barrel their names when they get married, maybe you could try and do that? Why are you laughing, Hermione? Ginny? Oh really, girls, people are looking at us. Not you as well, Janey! Well, it’s not as if I’m not used to public humiliation, I raised Fred and George after all. Oh, but the blossom does look lovely in the Spring ...”

*~*~*

AN: What did you make of that then? Just another light, sweet Humour fic, laced with a bit of fluff. Please review, I love to know your thoughts on Janey etc!