[George has enough warning to dodge this time. Rather than trying to twist out of Fred's grasp, he uses it to tackle his brother to the ground, sending them both sprawling out over the concrete floor of the square. He lands on his elbow and a hot flare of pain travels up his arm, but he barely notices.

Merlin, why is Fred being such a twat? Sure, he's used to it, generally. But this takes the cake. They almost never fight. Fought. Blood hell.]

Do you think I was back home enjoying myself, you twat!? You think I wouldn't have come here if I'd known -

[He chokes on the last words, pushing himself up and sprawling on the ground beside him.]

You can't be that bloody stupid, Fred.