"I expect we'll have to marry someday," George suggested.
He and Fred were hovering far above the field, watching Katie and Angelina swoop and dive for the quaffle under Wood's instructions.
"That's rubbish. This is the nineties, isn't it then? We can do whatever we like."
"What do you reckon we'll do when we're out of school?"
"Get a job of some sort. Go out for Quidditch, maybe?"
"You've broken your left arm three times now," George said in a speculative way. "I don't fancy being 60 and still dodging bludgers."
"I can't think that far ahead. I'm beginning to think we'll never be old enough to get our Apparating license," Fred sighed.
In the thoughtful silence that followed Fred's statement, George thought again of living in London without Fred. It was quite the most uncomfortable and confusing feeling he'd ever had. He imagined being the only Weasley in a room, working all day without Fred at his shoulder, sleeping in a bedroom entirely alone...
"We could make toys or something. Or candy. Like the sweets at Hogsmeade. We're good at potions and ingredients and things. We could be freelance. Inventors, even," Fred said after a while.
"We could open our own shop," George said slowly.
Fred's eyes went round.
"Brilliant," they said together.