Blehblehbleh. You know what I always say in this bit....

The next morning started early; stupidly early. It was barely 6 am when the sun’s light got so strong it woke both twins. Birds sang outside in the forest as Fred and George moaned sleepily. They had wanted to get away soon, but waking at what felt like the crack of dawn was just stupid.
‘Bloody birds...’ George grumbled, kicking the corner of blanket that had actually remained on his bed right off. Fred nodded, tossing his blanket off with an equal movement. It was a well known fact that both twins kicked like mad in their sleep from time to time, and Lee Jordan, who had shared a dormitory with both for seven years, never understood how they stayed asleep; he was the one awoken every night by the thrashing and sleep talking. Shaking his head like a dog emerging from water, George made his way cautiously to the small oven in the kitchen section of the tent; after a long sleep, he was extremely hungry: hungry enough to put up with his cooking skills if it meant some form of food.
‘Pancakes,’ he grinned, looking as though he were eight again as Fred ran over to search his backpack for food. ‘What’s actually in them?’
‘Dunno,’ shrugged Fred, rummaging in the large bag. ‘Sugar? Flour? Butter?’
‘Probably,’ George nodded, catching each of the ingredients his twin threw to him. ‘Doesn’t Mum usually include lemons?’
‘And where the heck am I supposed to get one of those?’
‘Uh. Use an orange instead. They’re similar enough...’
‘Peanut butter, eggs,’ Fred continued, throwing a jar and a load of raw eggs randomly behind him, causing the ones George didn’t catch to smash onto the floor, ‘ah well... I don’t really like eggs anyway...’
A very messy, eggy, sticky ten minutes later, both twins admitted defeat. Pancakes were impossible. So, after ‘cleaning up’ Fred and George dug a box of cereal out of George’s backpack and dug in hungrily, completely forgetting they really needed to move on, as the longer they stayed in one place, the closer the Ministry would get to finding them.

‘George. We need to move. ‘Cause those evil gits at the Ministry are probably tracking us right now,’
George snorted, ‘They won’t find us, they didn’t find Sirius easily, but I have to admit, these trees are really boring me...’
Throwing the remains of the cornflakes outside the tent for the non-existent birds to eat, George shoved everything randomly into his and Fred’s bags, whilst Fred walked round the tent, pretending he knew what he was meant to be doing as he plucked tent pegs out of the soil whilst whistling absently to himself. George smirked, knowing the similarity between him and Fred, he probably did it too, but the way Fred whistled reminded him of Arthur a lot. It was weird, having the family gone. Even when they lived in the flat above their shop, the twins saw their family most days, mainly just so they could have a decent meal, but nevertheless, they saw them. It seemed Fred’s plan to keep George’s mind busy and distracted from the fact the only reason they were camping in the middle of some woods was so they could return Fred to being dead and get the Weasleys back , but the efforts obviously weren’t enough, as every moment George’s thoughts would linger back to the real reason, and he would want to hang back.
‘Forge!’ Fred yelled eventually, as a warning he was about to collapse the tent, ‘get out. I’m not carrying you in my backpack.’

It took a while for Fred and George actually to leave. Once the tent had finally been packed, there was the matter of where they were actually going, which neither twin had thought of. Anywhere with people was out of the question; people could easily mean wizards and what seemed like half the wizarding population of England worked for the Ministry, so, much to the slight disappointment of both of them, they had to settle for another place in the countryside, which, while in George words was ‘more boring than double History of Magic,’ it was at least safe. Then there was the actual part choosing which boring trees they were going to visit, and with the twins’ geography skills, they were struggling to find anything less vague than ‘that forest with the really tall trees.’ Eventually, they managed to come up with somewhere that Ron had mentioned; the Forest of Dean, which would be ok if Harry and the others had managed to keep hidden in it.
Apparating whilst holding onto each other, as Fred and George always did nowadays, they slung their backpacks onto their shoulders and spun, hoping they wouldn’t end up in limbo or anything.
With a slippery sound of two grown men being chucked down onto a bed of wet leaves, the twins landed.
‘Well done Fred,’ George said sarcastically, not bothering to get up from the forest floor. ‘With your great apparating skills and my ability to trust girls who practically have ‘evil’ written across their foreheads we could rule the world someday...’
‘Sure thing. And not to mention our culinary skills. We could put Jamie whatshisname to shame.’
‘Yeah. We should have asked Hermione to send him some of our pancakes. If she wasn’t gallivanting off to Australia, that is.’
The chat went on like this for a while, until the twins actually bothered to get up off the ground and ‘fixed’ the tent up, and by then it was almost dark and both Fred and George really couldn’t be bothered to do anything but sleep.
‘You realise,’ Fred began, adjusting his pillows, ‘we actually need to start looking for her tomorrow.’
George laughed. That was a bit of a failure; making pancakes wouldn’t exactly looking for someone. Not that he wanted to, but Fred was going to insist, and he couldn’t be bothered to argue.
Outside the tent, an owl hooted in the distance while the sound of Fred’s yawning filled the tent too, both twins unable to think straight enough to speak, and falling asleep, Fred still muttering about storms...