Weasleys' War & Wantings (first half)
Title: "Weasleys' War & Wantings"
Author: anal_cram_ink
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Fred & George Weasley
Rating: overall NC17 for adult themes, language, graphic sexual situations, consensual adult male/male incest.
Disclaimer: Characters and 'verse belong to JKR. I'm only playing in her sandpit.
Notes: Written for the 7dschallenge Seven Deadly Sins Challenge.
Wrath.
A lifetime ban from Quidditch! This couldn't be happening! Harry stared at Professor Umbridge in frank disbelief (and probably not a small amount of horror) as she handed her sentence down. Flying was the one thing that made life truly bearable for Harry! Quidditch was the only thing that had ever made him feel really, truly a part of something. He was good at it, he was a natural, and he loved it. Loved it! How could anybody take that away from him?! How was he expected to live without it? Live the ENTIRE rest of his life without it? This was so unfair it was… it was BEYOND unfair! How could this be happening to him??
'And I think,' Umbridge's sugary voice continued, 'to be safe, this young man's twin ought to be stopped, too.'
Harry noticed George's hands curling into fists. He glanced further up to his side and saw the look in George's eyes. All of a sudden, Harry felt ashamedly selfish about his earlier train of thought.
~*~*~
The only hugging Fred and George Weasley had ever done at school while there was anyone else around to see it had occurred in the aftermath of Quidditch matches. Celebrating a spectacular win, for instance, or consoling a spectacular loss. Other occasions, other situations, in which they'd felt the need had always been conducted in private.
This was the aftermath of a Quidditch match, alright. And Gryffindor had won. But the embrace Fred and George threw themselves into, and in front of all of their Housemates, too, as soon as George walked into the Common Room with Harry Potter was nothing to do with the match itself.
A few people looked away politely, allowing the twins their private moment. But the majority of Gryffindors stared or gaped in open surprise as the identical redheads, still in their Quidditch gear, collided in the middle of the room and threw their arms around each other, George burying his face in his brother's hair, murmuring softly at his ear as they clung together.
'Life?!' Fred practically shrieked. 'Banned for LIFE?! She can't do that! The fucking bitch can't do that to us!'
'I thought George was gonna lose it when she banned Fred,' Harry was saying to Hermione and Ginny. He was saying it quietly, but Fred and George could still hear him.
Fred took half a step back from his brother and looked intently into George's face. He didn't even have to put words to the questions he was already, silently, asking.
'But you weren't even in that fight!' George told him. 'She had no right to do that to you. Just no bloody right! She banned you because you're my brother! Be-because you're my twin. I could kill her. I swear, Fred, I could fucking KILL HER.'
The solitary, uncharacteristic stutter in the middle of George's outpouring made Fred's mouth go dry. Not knowing what else to do, he rubbed George's right shoulder in a vaguely soothing manner and tried to find something to say. None of the Quidditch team had changed out of their playing robes as yet, but Fred only now noticed that George even had all his leather armour still on.
'Come on.' Fred tugged lightly on George's sleeve. 'Let's get you upstairs and get your armour stowed.' He kept tugging until George started to follow him. The Common Room remained hushed until they got into the stairwell that led up to the boys' dorms, then a couple of dozen voices erupted all at once behind them.
George was taking off his leather gloves as they trudged up the stairs and as soon as they entered the dorm room they and Lee Jordan shared, he hurled them at the nearest wall. He unbuckled his left vambrace and threw that next, then the right one. Then the left greave, and finally the right. Each piece of protective gear made a satisfying noise against the ancient stone walls, and all but the gloves had made an equally satisfying thud on the wooden floor when they fell to ground, too.
'That make you feel any better?' Fred managed a weak smile.
George pushed his hair out of his eyes and glared at the walls. 'I feel like kicking the living snot out of something. Or someone.'
'I'm supposed to be the one with the crueller heart, mate.'
'Don't say that.'
Fred shrugged nonchalantly. 'It doesn't bother me when people say it.'
'Well, it bothers me, alright?!' George realised too late that he'd raised his voice at his twin, and promptly looked ashamed of himself. 'Sorry,' he mumbled and plonked himself down onto the edge of his bed, his usually square shoulders slumped forward. 'I'm just so… so…' he threw his hands up in frustration.
'Angry?'
George nodded, staring down at the floor. Slowly, he dragged his gaze up to look at Fred, standing at the foot of George's bed, leaning casually against one of the bedposts. 'How come you seem to be dealing with this so much better than me? Have we swapped personalities somehow or what?'
That made Fred smile and he wrapped his arms around the bedpost as he leaned against it harder. 'Anger is an energy, bro.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'We can channel this, I reckon.' Fred's look was rather serious. 'In other words, I'm already plotting what we're going to do about it all.'
'A statement like that, coming from you, brother dearest, would chill most people we know to the bone.' George's smile had come back.
'Umbridge won't know what to expect though,' Fred winked.
George turned more toward Fred. 'I'm listening.'
'I figure,' Fred said airily, 'the bitch wants a war… we're just the people to rain one down on her.'
Envy.
God, Fred was so cute. George was, too, of course, Angelina Johnson quickly reminded herself. But it had been Fred who'd asked her to the Yule Ball last year and treated her so wonderfully all evening. He'd been funny and charming and attentive and, well, gorgeous. Strangely - but laudably and admirably - Fred had proven to be a perfect gentleman. Who'd've thought? She probably never would have thought of Fred in this kind of way if he hadn't have approached her first, but seeing as he had… she'd certainly spent a lot of time thinking about him since, that was for sure.
The Yule Ball was a long time ago now though, of course. Fred had remained funny and charming, only fractionally-less attentive and oh-gods-it-hurt-so-much-Angelina-loved-it more gorgeous than ever. But, the longer time went on, the more obvious it was that Fred thought of her simply as a good mate. Only the fact that no other girl had come along since to take Fred's attention away could make her feel better. That was something, at least. Wasn't it?
Oh, who was she kidding? Angelina only had to glance down the Gryffindor table at meal times, or steal a look during classes, or surreptitiously watch proceedings in the Common Room, to know that there was most definitely someone in Fred's life. His entire expression changed when he looked at that someone. The collection of smiles he had for that person was never bandied about for anyone else. There was obviously only that one person that Fred ever felt utterly and truly relaxed around. One person he doted upon, acquiesced to, devoted his time and energy and affection to. One person who made him feel like Angelina never could.
And it wasn't George's fault, Angelina sighed.
~*~*~
Fred and George were sitting on a wooden bench opposite Zonko's Joke Shop. George was leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Fred was leaning back with his hands behind his head and his legs stretched out in front of him. From time to time, one or the other or both of them would sigh quietly. They were dividing their time between watching the door to the shop constantly opening and closing as customers trooped in and out, and watching old Zonko himself inside, commanding the ringing till like an organist to the world's maddest choir.
'Look at them,' George muttered. 'Just raking the bloody galleons in.'
'And it's not even one of their busiest holidays,' Fred muttered, too. 'Just Valentine's. Hardly the biggest prank day of the calendar.'
George glanced sideways at his brother and smirked a little. 'Oh, I dunno, Fred. There'd be a brisk business in tickling devices, I should think.'
Fred raised one eyebrow. 'And magical blindfolds, perhaps?'
'Oh, definitely,' agreed George. 'And singing handcuffs.'
They grinned widely at each other, chorused 'Willy warmers!' together and promptly dissolved into raucous laughter.
'Well, you two are obviously having a good day,' a familiar female voice said from behind them. 'What are we laughing about?' Angelina asked as she rounded the bench and sat down in the only spot still free, which was next to George.
The twins quickly calmed themselves. 'Oh, nothing,' George said airily, shuffling a little closer to Fred so as to give Angelina more room.
'Would've thought you'd be busy, Angelina.' Fred brought his hands down from the back of his head and pulled his legs in a bit, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees like George.
Angelina leaned forward too, in order to see around George. 'Busy with what?' she asked Fred brightly.
'Why, getting courted from one end of Hogsmeade to the other, of course,' Fred told her. 'You're not going stag on a day like today, are you?'
Angelina glanced down at the ground. 'I'm just… doing a bit of shopping. That's all. Have you got plans? For later, I mean?'
'You know us, love, there's always plans on the boil.'
Angelina gave Fred a small smile. 'Of course,' she nodded. Then she suddenly stretched her arm across George and laid her hand lightly on Fred's nearest knee. 'We miss you on the team so much!' she blurted out. 'Uh, I mean,' she withdrew her hand again quickly. 'We're missing you both so much, of course. Sloper and Kirke…' she sighed and shook her head. 'They try hard, I know they do. It's just… well, it's hardly the same as having you two out there with us, is it? The team's never going to be the same.'
'Wish we could help,' offered George.
They all fell into silence. Across the street, the bell over Zonko's door continued to ring. Finally, Fred coughed lightly and stood up.
'We should really get going, George. Shouldn't we?'
Among their many and varied talents, the ability to follow each other's lead without hesitation was one of the greatest. Even though he had no idea to where they should "get going" or why, George immediately stood up beside his brother, nodding seriously as he pulled his coat tighter around himself against the February chill.
'Yeah, we should,' George agreed. 'Can't sit around here all day.'
They both warmly bid Angelina farewell and set off up the street, walking purposefully, shoulders brushing together every second step.
'So, where are we off to, exactly?' George queried as soon as they'd taken the first side-street off the main road.
'Felt like a drink,' Fred said, motioning toward the looming bulk of the Hog's Head Inn.
'We could've asked Angelina along,' George said in a slightly admonishing tone.
Fred reached the door of the pub and pushed it open, standing back to usher George through ahead of him. 'Didn't feel like a drink with her,' he grinned.
The barman eyed them shiftily as they claimed a table, and eyed Fred even more shiftily when he approached the bar. 'Let me guess,' the man grumbled, clearly remembering Fred from the inaugural meeting of the D.A. a few months back, 'twenty-five butter beers?'
Fred flashed one of his most winning smiles. 'Just two will do us this time. Oh, and two shots of firewhisky as well, thanks.'
'Hmph.'
'She's jealous of me, you know,' George said without preamble as Fred set a pint of butterbeer and a shot of whisky down in front of him.
'Who?' Fred sat opposite his brother at the small table and watched his own drinks settle themselves neatly at his place as he ceased their levitation.
'Professor Trelawney, obviously!' teased George. 'Angelina, you silly prick.'
'Jealous of you for what?'
'For you.'
'No…' Fred shook his head vaguely. 'You've lost me, I'm afraid.'
'She still likes you.'
'Oh.' Fred took up his shot glass and knocked back the firewhisky in one go. 'That,' he gasped as the liquor burnt its way down his throat. He put down the empty shot and took a soothing drink of butterbeer. 'I don't really think Ang's the sort to carry a torch, do you?'
George gave him their standard "You're barking mad, you are!" expression. 'So you're over her, then, are you?'
'I don't think I was ever under her, if you'll pardon the expression.' Fred leaned back in his chair casually as he watched George downing his firewhisky. 'Don't get me wrong - she's a great girl. Cracking Quidditch player. Nice tits.'
'Tsk. Mother would be so disappointed in you.'
'When is she not?'
They smiled and clinked their pint glasses together in a toast to nothing in particular.
'Honestly though…' Fred gave George a slightly quizzical look. 'Jealous of you? Over me? Why on earth would she?'
'You're an idiot.'
'Well, thanksverymuch! And I've always spoken so highly of you!'
George rested his elbows on the edge of the table and looked at Fred steadily. 'Who are you having a cosy little drink with on Valentine's Day, you dozy bugger? The lovely Angelina? Or your bloody brother?'
Fred stared at George for a short while, then replicated his twin's posture, putting his elbows on the table's edge and leaning across the top a little way. 'I'm having a cosy little drink, for your information, with the person I most like having cosy little drinks with. And I don't give a Fainting Fancy what day it is.'
'Happy Valentine's Day to you, too, Fred.'
'Heh. Sappy git.'
Greed.
Not much longer now. Not much longer at all, Filch reckoned. The way things were going, he'd soon have the authority to do what needed to be done around here.
How he'd welcomed the change in regime! He could've clicked his heels for joy, if not for his lumbago. Finally, this castle was returning to the old ways, the old disciplines, the old pleasures - humble though they were. The caretaker would actually be able to take care of things again; take care of wayward miscreants, take care of insolent rule-breakers, take care of unfortunate messy situations.
Filch stroked Mrs Norris' silky skull, clucking over the purring feline as they sat together in their cluttered office. 'There'll be whippings next,' he told her in barely contained glee. 'Mark my words, there'll be whippings.' His watery gaze travelled lovingly over various apparatus adorning his office walls. 'And paddlings. And thrashings. And… suspensions.' He chuckled dryly.
His chuckling subsided when his eye fell upon the top drawer of a filing cabinet. The slip of parchment lodged in the label holder proclaimed - WEASLEY, F & G.
Oh, their day was coming! Filch's crooked smile creaked into being. Those twin thorns in his side were going to be plucked. He'd see to it personally, if the Headmistress would allow. Their well-deserved comeuppance was fast approaching - so close now that Filch fancied he could almost taste the victory. The ravenousness he had harboured for that victory these seven long years would make it taste all the sweeter, he was sure.
~*~*~
Fred and George skidded around a corner, two steadying hands automatically reaching out toward one another just in case of inadvertent over-balancing, then they were off again, sprinting down a second-floor hallway. In their wake, three not-nearly-fast-enough members of Umbridge's Slytherin Inquisitorial Squad and, even further back still, a wheezing Argus Filch.
It had been a tiring but satisfying night, up to now. Sneaking out of Gryffindor Tower soon after one a.m., Fred and George had spent the last few hours roaming the castle from one end to the other, stashing and priming their signature fireworks - Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs - in all manner of nooks, alcoves, rooftops and myriad other hiding places. Interspersed with this important work had been the equally important job of steering clear of the school authorities and evading detection. Just as well they'd allowed for the plan-laying to take the entire night, really.
Behind them, they could hear chasing footsteps rounding the corner, and they both sped up in response. They really should find somewhere to hide about now… Luckily, no one, with the possible exception of Filch or maybe Dumbledore, knew Hogwarts Castle quite so well as the Weasley twins. They knew this corridor forked off soon, and they knew that the left-hand of that fork would take them by a particularly bulky suit of armour that stood in front of a small but well-concealing alcove. From past experience, they also knew that said alcove wasn't really big enough for two teenaged wizards, but that they could handle the sort of proximity at which other boys their age might well baulk. There were distinct advantages to being twins in a life of crime…
They'd pulled so far ahead of their pursuers that they couldn't even see wand-tips glowing in the distance behind them as they slid to a stop at the armour and squished themselves into the space behind it. Fred circled his wand above their heads and whispered, 'Silencio!'. The sound of their ragged breathing was silenced immediately.
Fred leaned heavily against the stone wall, trying to make himself as flat as possible. George, his back to the armour's back, braced himself with one arm on the stone beside Fred's head and the other around Fred's waist, in a token attempt at sparing his brother's chest his entire bodyweight. The most comfortable way to stand there like that together was for George to let his head fall forward onto Fred's shoulder - otherwise, their faces would be so close they'd be in danger of giving each other an attack of the giggles.
The clatter of approaching pursuit made them both hold their breath instinctively, even under the Silencing charm Fred had put on them. They listened to the Slytherins storming along the hallway and away from their hiding spot. As the footfalls receded, the twins breathed out at the same time and then slowly inhaled again, their chests moving against each other. Now they had to wait for Filch to shamble by. He'd be a little while. George nuzzled his face close against the warm flesh of Fred's throat and grinned, knowing that his brother would be able to feel the expression in the dark. In response, Fred playfully knocked his chin against the side of George's head.
Around a minute later, or so it felt, they finally heard the shuffling gait of Argus Filch as he passed them, muttering something under his breath about manacles and children's bones. By the time Filch's footsteps could no longer be heard, the twins had caught their breath properly. They knew not to leave their cover too soon, though, due to Mrs Norris' liking for hanging around a little longer anywhere her human had been. No, they'd stay here for another ten minutes or so - at least - before even thinking about lifting the Silencio and stepping back out into the hallway.
Sighing silently in unison, Fred and George slumped against each other a little more and let themselves relax. They'd done it! It had taken all night, sure, but they'd got all of their Wildfire Whiz-bangs into place and ready to go. Hogwarts was going to be talking about this prank for years, maybe even decades, to come.
George lifted his face from Fred's neck. In the pre-dawn darkness, he could only barely make out his twin's face at all. He could feel Fred's breath on his skin and knew Fred could feel his. If he moved his head forward just less than inch, their noses would surely bump together. George didn't know what drove him to do it - maybe later on he'd be able to fathom it out - but right now, George wasn't thinking about later on. He took a deep breath and moved his head forward less than an inch…
It wasn't their noses that bumped together.
Fred's lips were a little bit dry after all the running and panting they'd been having to do tonight, but the main observation that screamed in George's mind was warm. Fred's lips were warm. Just like the flesh of his neck was warm when George had nuzzled there. Warm and comfortable and all Fred.
Neither of them moved a muscle. It was as though the meeting of mouths had cast a freezing charm over them both. They simply pressed their mouths together just like the rest of them was pressed together - as though it would give them more space, perhaps. Their mouths were closed, breaths held, lips just pressing upon one another for a moment that stretched and stretched and stretched some more. When oxygen needed to be taken in, George inhaled through his nose, breathing in the reassuring scent of Fred's skin, not moving his mouth. Taking George's lead, Fred did the same and they continued to stand there with their mouths pressed chastely together for another stretchy moment.
A slight crackle of magic around them alerted George to the fact Fred had lifted the Silencio with a non-verbal Finite Incantatem. Fred's mouth veered sideways a little way, not so far that he could really be said to have moved their mouths apart, but just far enough that he could murmur a few words.
'What're we doing?' His voice was so quiet, the movement of his lips tickling the corner of George's mouth.
'Not sure,' George murmured back. And then, because it was the only word that made sense at that moment, he added, 'More.'
Fred slid his mouth sideways again, back to aligning properly with George's, and their lips pressed back together. It was still chaste, their mouths still closed but, tentatively now, they slowly began to make tiny movements against one another.
George found himself wondering vaguely how many muscles there might be in a human lip; it certainly felt like there were far more than he'd ever noticed before, so concentrated was he upon just how much movement he could make against his brother's mouth without resorting to… well… kissing. Because they weren't kissing, were they? With their mouths closed like this? That wasn't kissing. Fred's bottom lip pouted against him in an almost demanding show of pressure. George swallowed. Well, it certainly wasn't snogging, that's for sure. Ugh - just thinking that word made George need to come up for air.
Taking Fred's cue from before, George slid his mouth just a little way sideways. They both breathed in and out a couple of times.
'More,' whispered Fred.
Oh, definitely, thought George, and moved his mouth back onto his twin's again. The pressure they both exerted was stronger this time, more insistent. At some point, George's right arm, which had been braced against the stone wall near Fred's head all this time, moved so that his forearm was behind Fred's neck. He let his hand fall down onto the back of Fred's left shoulder and flexed his fingers over the curve of the joint as he felt Fred's lips part the tiniest, tiniest bit. They both pulled back a short distance at the shock of the development.
Both Fred's hands came up to George's waist, resting over his hipbones, holding him against Fred quite possessively, really.
'More,' George gasped, and crushed their mouths back together, both of them instinctively opening up as they reconnected. All those millions and millions of muscles that were in their lips - they had even more to do now that they'd both opened their mouths.
Minutes passed…
Tongue. Just the tips, granted. The very, very LEAST amount of tongue there could possibly be. But there was no denying its undeniable tongueness. They both pulled back again. There was slightly more light in the alcove now, indicating dawn must have broken beyond the castle walls, and they could make each other out in the gloom quite a bit better than before. George could've swore Fred's eyes were glittering.
'More,' Fred said quietly, firmly, one hand moving up swiftly from George's waist to the back of George's head. This was serious.
Lips and mouths and oh-yes-definitely-tongues and breath and wetness and ohgods, snogging! They were suddenly going at each other like men possessed - mouths wider, tongues deeper and more lascivious, hands grasping and pulling, hips beginning to grind. Fred's tongue was a delicacy to be savoured, licked and sucked upon, something George wanted to just gobble up, he was so hungry for it, so greedy for it.
"More," George's brain moaned at him. "More of this, more of him, more of us, just more!"
Fred groaned right into George's mouth. No one George had ever kissed before had ever done that. He was ready to come in his pants, just from the sound of it. That thought, however, suddenly snapped George out of the moment. He was hard, for gods' sake! He was hard against his brother!
Their mouths parted with a wet noise and they both stared intently into each other's faces, breaths panting out of them. There was fire in Fred's eyes and George was sure there were flames in his own, too. They both gulped at the same time, allowed their hands to loosen various holds at the same time. They looked at each other as though they could both see something new they'd never seen before.
And then, slowly, smiles. Identical smiles, slightly lop-sided, that bloomed wider and wider as they gazed at each other. When they brought their faces back together this time, it was to lean their foreheads together, smiling and then grinning at each other from right up close.
'They've probably just started serving breakfast,' Fred whispered.
'Yeah. We could grab something to eat before changing into our uniforms.'
'Sounds like a plan.'
Still grinning, Fred squeezed by George and slipped out of the alcove. He checked the coast was clear, then pulled his brother out behind him. They took the nearest shortcut down to the ground floor and were the first two Gryffindors to arrive for breakfast.
Sloth.
Ron rolled over heavily and shoved his pillow over his head. It barely blocked out the sounds of his thousands (was it thousands? it sounded like thousands… they made enough noise for thousands…) of dorm mates as they all got ready for the new day.
Couldn't it be weekend already? Couldn't Ron have a lie-in already? Couldn't he just have a quarter hour more in bed? Ten minutes?
A prodding in his shoulder made him groan. He was on the verge of telling his twin brothers to fuck the hell off and leave him alone, when enough conscious thought filtered through to tell him that he wasn't home in the Burrow and that prod couldn't be coming from Fred and/or George.
'Come on, Ron. Breakfast.'
'Harry… sod off.'
'C'mon, Ron. You have to get up. Sorry, mate. But you do.'
'Five more minutes, Harry. Just five bloody minutes…'
~*~*~
'You two are here early.'
Fred yawned as he and George looked up from the last of their toast to see their little brother slumping onto the bench opposite them at the Gryffindor table. To Ron's right, Harry looked like he'd had barely more sleep than the twins had - and they hadn't had any!
'Breakfast beckoned,' George shrugged.
'You look terrible. Both of you.'
'Oh, thanks awfully, Ron!'
'Alright. Don't go getting sensitive on me.' Ron hefted the platter of fried eggs and slid three onto his plate. 'What've you been up to, anyway?'
Fred picked up his cup of tea. 'What HAVEN'T we been up to, Ronnikins? That's usually the more pertinent question.'
'You alright there, Harry?' George was saying.
Harry rubbed at his forehead and leaned against the table more heavily, shaking his head at Ron's offer of the egg platter. 'I'm fine. Just tired. And fed up with everything around here.'
George nodded, his expression sympathetic. 'Yeah. Getting dead grim, the lot of it. Still - something might happen today to brighten things up a bit for you.'
Tired green eyes surveyed them both with a hint of mild suspicion. 'Just how "bright" are we talking?'
The twins both grinned. 'Bright enough to be seen for miles around,' Fred said quietly.
'You've gotta be careful, you know,' Ron told them through a mouthful of egg. 'You can't afford to get into too much more trouble. Mum'll go spare!'
George picked up a napkin from the table and threw it toward Ron. 'You just worry about yourself, kiddo.' He shook his head a little as he watched Ron wipe egg off his mouth. 'A lot of hard work and planning's gone into this - '
' - and we're not about to back down now,' Fred finished, leaning his shoulder a little more heavily against George's.
'What is it you're actually doing?' Ron badgered.
Fred and George shared a glance before looking back to their little brother. 'Merely…' Fred stifled another yawn. 'Merely firing a salvo across her bow.'
Ron frowned in confusion. 'You what?'
'Engaging the enemy, Ron.' George sat up a little straighter as Fred settled his head onto George's shoulder. Fred wouldn't normally have done something like that in front of Ron and Harry - hell, in front of the whole Great Hall! But he was just so bloody tired…
George shrugged his shoulder roughly and Fred gave a little start as he sat up, being jolted out of an almost-sleep, as he was.
'Wha - ? Oh. Sorry.' Fred covered his mouth with his hand as he yawned again. 'Sorry. Hardly keep me eyes open…'
George was smiling at him, his gaze warm and sparkling despite the weariness in his eyes. 'We should go and change. Grab some Pepper-Up while we're at it, yeah?'
Fred nodded sluggishly and they both stood up from the table and made their goodbyes. The climb up through the castle to their dormitory in Gryffindor Tower felt like it took hours, but finally they were there.
Lee Jordan dashed out of their dorm room just as they were reaching it. He high-fived them both as he ran by. 'Late for breakfast!' he yelled over his shoulder as he darted down the stairs. 'See you in class!'
They shuffled into their room, blinking their eyes at the sunlight streaming in through the windows, and set about changing from their regular clothes into their school uniforms. Fred was fairly sure his brain went to sleep for a few minutes while his body carried on doing what it had to. It seemed as though one moment he was battling to take his jumper off, and the very next he was in his uniform, standing at the full-length mirror and leaning back against George who stood behind him, his arms circled around Fred's chest so as to tie Fred's tie because Fred's weary fingers had obviously been refusing to work properly.
Staring into their reflection in the mirror, Fred gazed at George's face until George obviously felt it and glanced up to meet his eyes in the glass. At the base of Fred's throat, George's long fingers stilled as the brothers looked at each other.
'What?' George whispered, his breath caressing Fred's ear as he spoke the solitary word.
'Nothing,' Fred whispered back. They stood there quietly for a moment, neither of them moving, just gazing at each other's reflection, George's fingers still twined in the silken lengths of Fred's tie. 'You snogged me,' Fred finally murmured.
George's mouth curved up into a somehow more delicate and shy version of his usual cheeky grin. 'You snogged me!' he whispered in faux accusation against Fred's ear.
Eyes still glued to each other in the mirror, they both nodded a little. 'We snogged,' they said in unison.
'We snogged,' Fred repeated in a vague murmur as he watched George's fingers resume their work on his tie. Of course they did. Of course they snogged each other. It was surreal and natural and inevitable and beautifully weird, wasn't it?
George slid the finished silky knot into place and smoothed the collar of Fred's school shirt down. 'Fred - '
'Where's the Pepper-Up?'
'Huh? Oh. Um…' George stepped away and crossed to his trunk beneath one of the windows. The mess within, when he flipped up the lid, was sufficient to make him take the easy option and simply hold his hand over the jumble and intone, 'Accio Pepper-Up potion.' He tossed the tiny bottle to Fred first, then took it back while steam was shooting out of Fred's ears and took a dose for himself.
Fred blinked several times in quick succession. Phew! Talk about hitting the spot! He looked down at his uniform, surprised that he'd managed to get appropriately dressed at all, considering the torpor he'd been experiencing. 'Nice knot, by the way.'
George tilted his head to one side and knocked it with the heel of his hand as if to clear it, remnants of steam drifting away. 'You tried to fall asleep on me at the bloody breakfast table!'
'Heh!' Fred smirked. 'So I did! At least I didn't cuddle up for a kiss…'
'That's not funny, Fred.'
'Yeah, it is.'
George suddenly stepped in close close close, his right arm circling around Fred's waist and pulling Fred up tight against his body, their pelvises sliding against each other, George's face leaning in toward Fred's, his breath beginning to play upon Fred's lips as their mouths got nearer and nearer. Fred felt his eyelids droop to half-mast as he tilted his chin up in anxious anticipation.
Then, just as suddenly, George let go of him and stood back, chuckling as he watched Fred actually stumble a little in response to the abrupt loss of the almost-snog.
'No, bro - THAT'S funny!'
Fred glared for a moment, but George's chuckles were already making him smile. 'You're the biggest prick I know, I swear.'
George quirked an eyebrow at him. 'Well, if anybody can know that for sure, it's you…'
Fred grabbed up the nearest pillow he could reach and lobbed it at his brother.
Second half here.
Author: anal_cram_ink
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Fred & George Weasley
Rating: overall NC17 for adult themes, language, graphic sexual situations, consensual adult male/male incest.
Disclaimer: Characters and 'verse belong to JKR. I'm only playing in her sandpit.
Notes: Written for the 7dschallenge Seven Deadly Sins Challenge.
Wrath.
A lifetime ban from Quidditch! This couldn't be happening! Harry stared at Professor Umbridge in frank disbelief (and probably not a small amount of horror) as she handed her sentence down. Flying was the one thing that made life truly bearable for Harry! Quidditch was the only thing that had ever made him feel really, truly a part of something. He was good at it, he was a natural, and he loved it. Loved it! How could anybody take that away from him?! How was he expected to live without it? Live the ENTIRE rest of his life without it? This was so unfair it was… it was BEYOND unfair! How could this be happening to him??
'And I think,' Umbridge's sugary voice continued, 'to be safe, this young man's twin ought to be stopped, too.'
Harry noticed George's hands curling into fists. He glanced further up to his side and saw the look in George's eyes. All of a sudden, Harry felt ashamedly selfish about his earlier train of thought.
~*~*~
The only hugging Fred and George Weasley had ever done at school while there was anyone else around to see it had occurred in the aftermath of Quidditch matches. Celebrating a spectacular win, for instance, or consoling a spectacular loss. Other occasions, other situations, in which they'd felt the need had always been conducted in private.
This was the aftermath of a Quidditch match, alright. And Gryffindor had won. But the embrace Fred and George threw themselves into, and in front of all of their Housemates, too, as soon as George walked into the Common Room with Harry Potter was nothing to do with the match itself.
A few people looked away politely, allowing the twins their private moment. But the majority of Gryffindors stared or gaped in open surprise as the identical redheads, still in their Quidditch gear, collided in the middle of the room and threw their arms around each other, George burying his face in his brother's hair, murmuring softly at his ear as they clung together.
'Life?!' Fred practically shrieked. 'Banned for LIFE?! She can't do that! The fucking bitch can't do that to us!'
'I thought George was gonna lose it when she banned Fred,' Harry was saying to Hermione and Ginny. He was saying it quietly, but Fred and George could still hear him.
Fred took half a step back from his brother and looked intently into George's face. He didn't even have to put words to the questions he was already, silently, asking.
'But you weren't even in that fight!' George told him. 'She had no right to do that to you. Just no bloody right! She banned you because you're my brother! Be-because you're my twin. I could kill her. I swear, Fred, I could fucking KILL HER.'
The solitary, uncharacteristic stutter in the middle of George's outpouring made Fred's mouth go dry. Not knowing what else to do, he rubbed George's right shoulder in a vaguely soothing manner and tried to find something to say. None of the Quidditch team had changed out of their playing robes as yet, but Fred only now noticed that George even had all his leather armour still on.
'Come on.' Fred tugged lightly on George's sleeve. 'Let's get you upstairs and get your armour stowed.' He kept tugging until George started to follow him. The Common Room remained hushed until they got into the stairwell that led up to the boys' dorms, then a couple of dozen voices erupted all at once behind them.
George was taking off his leather gloves as they trudged up the stairs and as soon as they entered the dorm room they and Lee Jordan shared, he hurled them at the nearest wall. He unbuckled his left vambrace and threw that next, then the right one. Then the left greave, and finally the right. Each piece of protective gear made a satisfying noise against the ancient stone walls, and all but the gloves had made an equally satisfying thud on the wooden floor when they fell to ground, too.
'That make you feel any better?' Fred managed a weak smile.
George pushed his hair out of his eyes and glared at the walls. 'I feel like kicking the living snot out of something. Or someone.'
'I'm supposed to be the one with the crueller heart, mate.'
'Don't say that.'
Fred shrugged nonchalantly. 'It doesn't bother me when people say it.'
'Well, it bothers me, alright?!' George realised too late that he'd raised his voice at his twin, and promptly looked ashamed of himself. 'Sorry,' he mumbled and plonked himself down onto the edge of his bed, his usually square shoulders slumped forward. 'I'm just so… so…' he threw his hands up in frustration.
'Angry?'
George nodded, staring down at the floor. Slowly, he dragged his gaze up to look at Fred, standing at the foot of George's bed, leaning casually against one of the bedposts. 'How come you seem to be dealing with this so much better than me? Have we swapped personalities somehow or what?'
That made Fred smile and he wrapped his arms around the bedpost as he leaned against it harder. 'Anger is an energy, bro.'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'We can channel this, I reckon.' Fred's look was rather serious. 'In other words, I'm already plotting what we're going to do about it all.'
'A statement like that, coming from you, brother dearest, would chill most people we know to the bone.' George's smile had come back.
'Umbridge won't know what to expect though,' Fred winked.
George turned more toward Fred. 'I'm listening.'
'I figure,' Fred said airily, 'the bitch wants a war… we're just the people to rain one down on her.'
Envy.
God, Fred was so cute. George was, too, of course, Angelina Johnson quickly reminded herself. But it had been Fred who'd asked her to the Yule Ball last year and treated her so wonderfully all evening. He'd been funny and charming and attentive and, well, gorgeous. Strangely - but laudably and admirably - Fred had proven to be a perfect gentleman. Who'd've thought? She probably never would have thought of Fred in this kind of way if he hadn't have approached her first, but seeing as he had… she'd certainly spent a lot of time thinking about him since, that was for sure.
The Yule Ball was a long time ago now though, of course. Fred had remained funny and charming, only fractionally-less attentive and oh-gods-it-hurt-so-much-Angelina-loved-it more gorgeous than ever. But, the longer time went on, the more obvious it was that Fred thought of her simply as a good mate. Only the fact that no other girl had come along since to take Fred's attention away could make her feel better. That was something, at least. Wasn't it?
Oh, who was she kidding? Angelina only had to glance down the Gryffindor table at meal times, or steal a look during classes, or surreptitiously watch proceedings in the Common Room, to know that there was most definitely someone in Fred's life. His entire expression changed when he looked at that someone. The collection of smiles he had for that person was never bandied about for anyone else. There was obviously only that one person that Fred ever felt utterly and truly relaxed around. One person he doted upon, acquiesced to, devoted his time and energy and affection to. One person who made him feel like Angelina never could.
And it wasn't George's fault, Angelina sighed.
~*~*~
Fred and George were sitting on a wooden bench opposite Zonko's Joke Shop. George was leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. Fred was leaning back with his hands behind his head and his legs stretched out in front of him. From time to time, one or the other or both of them would sigh quietly. They were dividing their time between watching the door to the shop constantly opening and closing as customers trooped in and out, and watching old Zonko himself inside, commanding the ringing till like an organist to the world's maddest choir.
'Look at them,' George muttered. 'Just raking the bloody galleons in.'
'And it's not even one of their busiest holidays,' Fred muttered, too. 'Just Valentine's. Hardly the biggest prank day of the calendar.'
George glanced sideways at his brother and smirked a little. 'Oh, I dunno, Fred. There'd be a brisk business in tickling devices, I should think.'
Fred raised one eyebrow. 'And magical blindfolds, perhaps?'
'Oh, definitely,' agreed George. 'And singing handcuffs.'
They grinned widely at each other, chorused 'Willy warmers!' together and promptly dissolved into raucous laughter.
'Well, you two are obviously having a good day,' a familiar female voice said from behind them. 'What are we laughing about?' Angelina asked as she rounded the bench and sat down in the only spot still free, which was next to George.
The twins quickly calmed themselves. 'Oh, nothing,' George said airily, shuffling a little closer to Fred so as to give Angelina more room.
'Would've thought you'd be busy, Angelina.' Fred brought his hands down from the back of his head and pulled his legs in a bit, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees like George.
Angelina leaned forward too, in order to see around George. 'Busy with what?' she asked Fred brightly.
'Why, getting courted from one end of Hogsmeade to the other, of course,' Fred told her. 'You're not going stag on a day like today, are you?'
Angelina glanced down at the ground. 'I'm just… doing a bit of shopping. That's all. Have you got plans? For later, I mean?'
'You know us, love, there's always plans on the boil.'
Angelina gave Fred a small smile. 'Of course,' she nodded. Then she suddenly stretched her arm across George and laid her hand lightly on Fred's nearest knee. 'We miss you on the team so much!' she blurted out. 'Uh, I mean,' she withdrew her hand again quickly. 'We're missing you both so much, of course. Sloper and Kirke…' she sighed and shook her head. 'They try hard, I know they do. It's just… well, it's hardly the same as having you two out there with us, is it? The team's never going to be the same.'
'Wish we could help,' offered George.
They all fell into silence. Across the street, the bell over Zonko's door continued to ring. Finally, Fred coughed lightly and stood up.
'We should really get going, George. Shouldn't we?'
Among their many and varied talents, the ability to follow each other's lead without hesitation was one of the greatest. Even though he had no idea to where they should "get going" or why, George immediately stood up beside his brother, nodding seriously as he pulled his coat tighter around himself against the February chill.
'Yeah, we should,' George agreed. 'Can't sit around here all day.'
They both warmly bid Angelina farewell and set off up the street, walking purposefully, shoulders brushing together every second step.
'So, where are we off to, exactly?' George queried as soon as they'd taken the first side-street off the main road.
'Felt like a drink,' Fred said, motioning toward the looming bulk of the Hog's Head Inn.
'We could've asked Angelina along,' George said in a slightly admonishing tone.
Fred reached the door of the pub and pushed it open, standing back to usher George through ahead of him. 'Didn't feel like a drink with her,' he grinned.
The barman eyed them shiftily as they claimed a table, and eyed Fred even more shiftily when he approached the bar. 'Let me guess,' the man grumbled, clearly remembering Fred from the inaugural meeting of the D.A. a few months back, 'twenty-five butter beers?'
Fred flashed one of his most winning smiles. 'Just two will do us this time. Oh, and two shots of firewhisky as well, thanks.'
'Hmph.'
'She's jealous of me, you know,' George said without preamble as Fred set a pint of butterbeer and a shot of whisky down in front of him.
'Who?' Fred sat opposite his brother at the small table and watched his own drinks settle themselves neatly at his place as he ceased their levitation.
'Professor Trelawney, obviously!' teased George. 'Angelina, you silly prick.'
'Jealous of you for what?'
'For you.'
'No…' Fred shook his head vaguely. 'You've lost me, I'm afraid.'
'She still likes you.'
'Oh.' Fred took up his shot glass and knocked back the firewhisky in one go. 'That,' he gasped as the liquor burnt its way down his throat. He put down the empty shot and took a soothing drink of butterbeer. 'I don't really think Ang's the sort to carry a torch, do you?'
George gave him their standard "You're barking mad, you are!" expression. 'So you're over her, then, are you?'
'I don't think I was ever under her, if you'll pardon the expression.' Fred leaned back in his chair casually as he watched George downing his firewhisky. 'Don't get me wrong - she's a great girl. Cracking Quidditch player. Nice tits.'
'Tsk. Mother would be so disappointed in you.'
'When is she not?'
They smiled and clinked their pint glasses together in a toast to nothing in particular.
'Honestly though…' Fred gave George a slightly quizzical look. 'Jealous of you? Over me? Why on earth would she?'
'You're an idiot.'
'Well, thanksverymuch! And I've always spoken so highly of you!'
George rested his elbows on the edge of the table and looked at Fred steadily. 'Who are you having a cosy little drink with on Valentine's Day, you dozy bugger? The lovely Angelina? Or your bloody brother?'
Fred stared at George for a short while, then replicated his twin's posture, putting his elbows on the table's edge and leaning across the top a little way. 'I'm having a cosy little drink, for your information, with the person I most like having cosy little drinks with. And I don't give a Fainting Fancy what day it is.'
'Happy Valentine's Day to you, too, Fred.'
'Heh. Sappy git.'
Greed.
Not much longer now. Not much longer at all, Filch reckoned. The way things were going, he'd soon have the authority to do what needed to be done around here.
How he'd welcomed the change in regime! He could've clicked his heels for joy, if not for his lumbago. Finally, this castle was returning to the old ways, the old disciplines, the old pleasures - humble though they were. The caretaker would actually be able to take care of things again; take care of wayward miscreants, take care of insolent rule-breakers, take care of unfortunate messy situations.
Filch stroked Mrs Norris' silky skull, clucking over the purring feline as they sat together in their cluttered office. 'There'll be whippings next,' he told her in barely contained glee. 'Mark my words, there'll be whippings.' His watery gaze travelled lovingly over various apparatus adorning his office walls. 'And paddlings. And thrashings. And… suspensions.' He chuckled dryly.
His chuckling subsided when his eye fell upon the top drawer of a filing cabinet. The slip of parchment lodged in the label holder proclaimed - WEASLEY, F & G.
Oh, their day was coming! Filch's crooked smile creaked into being. Those twin thorns in his side were going to be plucked. He'd see to it personally, if the Headmistress would allow. Their well-deserved comeuppance was fast approaching - so close now that Filch fancied he could almost taste the victory. The ravenousness he had harboured for that victory these seven long years would make it taste all the sweeter, he was sure.
~*~*~
Fred and George skidded around a corner, two steadying hands automatically reaching out toward one another just in case of inadvertent over-balancing, then they were off again, sprinting down a second-floor hallway. In their wake, three not-nearly-fast-enough members of Umbridge's Slytherin Inquisitorial Squad and, even further back still, a wheezing Argus Filch.
It had been a tiring but satisfying night, up to now. Sneaking out of Gryffindor Tower soon after one a.m., Fred and George had spent the last few hours roaming the castle from one end to the other, stashing and priming their signature fireworks - Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-bangs - in all manner of nooks, alcoves, rooftops and myriad other hiding places. Interspersed with this important work had been the equally important job of steering clear of the school authorities and evading detection. Just as well they'd allowed for the plan-laying to take the entire night, really.
Behind them, they could hear chasing footsteps rounding the corner, and they both sped up in response. They really should find somewhere to hide about now… Luckily, no one, with the possible exception of Filch or maybe Dumbledore, knew Hogwarts Castle quite so well as the Weasley twins. They knew this corridor forked off soon, and they knew that the left-hand of that fork would take them by a particularly bulky suit of armour that stood in front of a small but well-concealing alcove. From past experience, they also knew that said alcove wasn't really big enough for two teenaged wizards, but that they could handle the sort of proximity at which other boys their age might well baulk. There were distinct advantages to being twins in a life of crime…
They'd pulled so far ahead of their pursuers that they couldn't even see wand-tips glowing in the distance behind them as they slid to a stop at the armour and squished themselves into the space behind it. Fred circled his wand above their heads and whispered, 'Silencio!'. The sound of their ragged breathing was silenced immediately.
Fred leaned heavily against the stone wall, trying to make himself as flat as possible. George, his back to the armour's back, braced himself with one arm on the stone beside Fred's head and the other around Fred's waist, in a token attempt at sparing his brother's chest his entire bodyweight. The most comfortable way to stand there like that together was for George to let his head fall forward onto Fred's shoulder - otherwise, their faces would be so close they'd be in danger of giving each other an attack of the giggles.
The clatter of approaching pursuit made them both hold their breath instinctively, even under the Silencing charm Fred had put on them. They listened to the Slytherins storming along the hallway and away from their hiding spot. As the footfalls receded, the twins breathed out at the same time and then slowly inhaled again, their chests moving against each other. Now they had to wait for Filch to shamble by. He'd be a little while. George nuzzled his face close against the warm flesh of Fred's throat and grinned, knowing that his brother would be able to feel the expression in the dark. In response, Fred playfully knocked his chin against the side of George's head.
Around a minute later, or so it felt, they finally heard the shuffling gait of Argus Filch as he passed them, muttering something under his breath about manacles and children's bones. By the time Filch's footsteps could no longer be heard, the twins had caught their breath properly. They knew not to leave their cover too soon, though, due to Mrs Norris' liking for hanging around a little longer anywhere her human had been. No, they'd stay here for another ten minutes or so - at least - before even thinking about lifting the Silencio and stepping back out into the hallway.
Sighing silently in unison, Fred and George slumped against each other a little more and let themselves relax. They'd done it! It had taken all night, sure, but they'd got all of their Wildfire Whiz-bangs into place and ready to go. Hogwarts was going to be talking about this prank for years, maybe even decades, to come.
George lifted his face from Fred's neck. In the pre-dawn darkness, he could only barely make out his twin's face at all. He could feel Fred's breath on his skin and knew Fred could feel his. If he moved his head forward just less than inch, their noses would surely bump together. George didn't know what drove him to do it - maybe later on he'd be able to fathom it out - but right now, George wasn't thinking about later on. He took a deep breath and moved his head forward less than an inch…
It wasn't their noses that bumped together.
Fred's lips were a little bit dry after all the running and panting they'd been having to do tonight, but the main observation that screamed in George's mind was warm. Fred's lips were warm. Just like the flesh of his neck was warm when George had nuzzled there. Warm and comfortable and all Fred.
Neither of them moved a muscle. It was as though the meeting of mouths had cast a freezing charm over them both. They simply pressed their mouths together just like the rest of them was pressed together - as though it would give them more space, perhaps. Their mouths were closed, breaths held, lips just pressing upon one another for a moment that stretched and stretched and stretched some more. When oxygen needed to be taken in, George inhaled through his nose, breathing in the reassuring scent of Fred's skin, not moving his mouth. Taking George's lead, Fred did the same and they continued to stand there with their mouths pressed chastely together for another stretchy moment.
A slight crackle of magic around them alerted George to the fact Fred had lifted the Silencio with a non-verbal Finite Incantatem. Fred's mouth veered sideways a little way, not so far that he could really be said to have moved their mouths apart, but just far enough that he could murmur a few words.
'What're we doing?' His voice was so quiet, the movement of his lips tickling the corner of George's mouth.
'Not sure,' George murmured back. And then, because it was the only word that made sense at that moment, he added, 'More.'
Fred slid his mouth sideways again, back to aligning properly with George's, and their lips pressed back together. It was still chaste, their mouths still closed but, tentatively now, they slowly began to make tiny movements against one another.
George found himself wondering vaguely how many muscles there might be in a human lip; it certainly felt like there were far more than he'd ever noticed before, so concentrated was he upon just how much movement he could make against his brother's mouth without resorting to… well… kissing. Because they weren't kissing, were they? With their mouths closed like this? That wasn't kissing. Fred's bottom lip pouted against him in an almost demanding show of pressure. George swallowed. Well, it certainly wasn't snogging, that's for sure. Ugh - just thinking that word made George need to come up for air.
Taking Fred's cue from before, George slid his mouth just a little way sideways. They both breathed in and out a couple of times.
'More,' whispered Fred.
Oh, definitely, thought George, and moved his mouth back onto his twin's again. The pressure they both exerted was stronger this time, more insistent. At some point, George's right arm, which had been braced against the stone wall near Fred's head all this time, moved so that his forearm was behind Fred's neck. He let his hand fall down onto the back of Fred's left shoulder and flexed his fingers over the curve of the joint as he felt Fred's lips part the tiniest, tiniest bit. They both pulled back a short distance at the shock of the development.
Both Fred's hands came up to George's waist, resting over his hipbones, holding him against Fred quite possessively, really.
'More,' George gasped, and crushed their mouths back together, both of them instinctively opening up as they reconnected. All those millions and millions of muscles that were in their lips - they had even more to do now that they'd both opened their mouths.
Minutes passed…
Tongue. Just the tips, granted. The very, very LEAST amount of tongue there could possibly be. But there was no denying its undeniable tongueness. They both pulled back again. There was slightly more light in the alcove now, indicating dawn must have broken beyond the castle walls, and they could make each other out in the gloom quite a bit better than before. George could've swore Fred's eyes were glittering.
'More,' Fred said quietly, firmly, one hand moving up swiftly from George's waist to the back of George's head. This was serious.
Lips and mouths and oh-yes-definitely-tongues and breath and wetness and ohgods, snogging! They were suddenly going at each other like men possessed - mouths wider, tongues deeper and more lascivious, hands grasping and pulling, hips beginning to grind. Fred's tongue was a delicacy to be savoured, licked and sucked upon, something George wanted to just gobble up, he was so hungry for it, so greedy for it.
"More," George's brain moaned at him. "More of this, more of him, more of us, just more!"
Fred groaned right into George's mouth. No one George had ever kissed before had ever done that. He was ready to come in his pants, just from the sound of it. That thought, however, suddenly snapped George out of the moment. He was hard, for gods' sake! He was hard against his brother!
Their mouths parted with a wet noise and they both stared intently into each other's faces, breaths panting out of them. There was fire in Fred's eyes and George was sure there were flames in his own, too. They both gulped at the same time, allowed their hands to loosen various holds at the same time. They looked at each other as though they could both see something new they'd never seen before.
And then, slowly, smiles. Identical smiles, slightly lop-sided, that bloomed wider and wider as they gazed at each other. When they brought their faces back together this time, it was to lean their foreheads together, smiling and then grinning at each other from right up close.
'They've probably just started serving breakfast,' Fred whispered.
'Yeah. We could grab something to eat before changing into our uniforms.'
'Sounds like a plan.'
Still grinning, Fred squeezed by George and slipped out of the alcove. He checked the coast was clear, then pulled his brother out behind him. They took the nearest shortcut down to the ground floor and were the first two Gryffindors to arrive for breakfast.
Sloth.
Ron rolled over heavily and shoved his pillow over his head. It barely blocked out the sounds of his thousands (was it thousands? it sounded like thousands… they made enough noise for thousands…) of dorm mates as they all got ready for the new day.
Couldn't it be weekend already? Couldn't Ron have a lie-in already? Couldn't he just have a quarter hour more in bed? Ten minutes?
A prodding in his shoulder made him groan. He was on the verge of telling his twin brothers to fuck the hell off and leave him alone, when enough conscious thought filtered through to tell him that he wasn't home in the Burrow and that prod couldn't be coming from Fred and/or George.
'Come on, Ron. Breakfast.'
'Harry… sod off.'
'C'mon, Ron. You have to get up. Sorry, mate. But you do.'
'Five more minutes, Harry. Just five bloody minutes…'
~*~*~
'You two are here early.'
Fred yawned as he and George looked up from the last of their toast to see their little brother slumping onto the bench opposite them at the Gryffindor table. To Ron's right, Harry looked like he'd had barely more sleep than the twins had - and they hadn't had any!
'Breakfast beckoned,' George shrugged.
'You look terrible. Both of you.'
'Oh, thanks awfully, Ron!'
'Alright. Don't go getting sensitive on me.' Ron hefted the platter of fried eggs and slid three onto his plate. 'What've you been up to, anyway?'
Fred picked up his cup of tea. 'What HAVEN'T we been up to, Ronnikins? That's usually the more pertinent question.'
'You alright there, Harry?' George was saying.
Harry rubbed at his forehead and leaned against the table more heavily, shaking his head at Ron's offer of the egg platter. 'I'm fine. Just tired. And fed up with everything around here.'
George nodded, his expression sympathetic. 'Yeah. Getting dead grim, the lot of it. Still - something might happen today to brighten things up a bit for you.'
Tired green eyes surveyed them both with a hint of mild suspicion. 'Just how "bright" are we talking?'
The twins both grinned. 'Bright enough to be seen for miles around,' Fred said quietly.
'You've gotta be careful, you know,' Ron told them through a mouthful of egg. 'You can't afford to get into too much more trouble. Mum'll go spare!'
George picked up a napkin from the table and threw it toward Ron. 'You just worry about yourself, kiddo.' He shook his head a little as he watched Ron wipe egg off his mouth. 'A lot of hard work and planning's gone into this - '
' - and we're not about to back down now,' Fred finished, leaning his shoulder a little more heavily against George's.
'What is it you're actually doing?' Ron badgered.
Fred and George shared a glance before looking back to their little brother. 'Merely…' Fred stifled another yawn. 'Merely firing a salvo across her bow.'
Ron frowned in confusion. 'You what?'
'Engaging the enemy, Ron.' George sat up a little straighter as Fred settled his head onto George's shoulder. Fred wouldn't normally have done something like that in front of Ron and Harry - hell, in front of the whole Great Hall! But he was just so bloody tired…
George shrugged his shoulder roughly and Fred gave a little start as he sat up, being jolted out of an almost-sleep, as he was.
'Wha - ? Oh. Sorry.' Fred covered his mouth with his hand as he yawned again. 'Sorry. Hardly keep me eyes open…'
George was smiling at him, his gaze warm and sparkling despite the weariness in his eyes. 'We should go and change. Grab some Pepper-Up while we're at it, yeah?'
Fred nodded sluggishly and they both stood up from the table and made their goodbyes. The climb up through the castle to their dormitory in Gryffindor Tower felt like it took hours, but finally they were there.
Lee Jordan dashed out of their dorm room just as they were reaching it. He high-fived them both as he ran by. 'Late for breakfast!' he yelled over his shoulder as he darted down the stairs. 'See you in class!'
They shuffled into their room, blinking their eyes at the sunlight streaming in through the windows, and set about changing from their regular clothes into their school uniforms. Fred was fairly sure his brain went to sleep for a few minutes while his body carried on doing what it had to. It seemed as though one moment he was battling to take his jumper off, and the very next he was in his uniform, standing at the full-length mirror and leaning back against George who stood behind him, his arms circled around Fred's chest so as to tie Fred's tie because Fred's weary fingers had obviously been refusing to work properly.
Staring into their reflection in the mirror, Fred gazed at George's face until George obviously felt it and glanced up to meet his eyes in the glass. At the base of Fred's throat, George's long fingers stilled as the brothers looked at each other.
'What?' George whispered, his breath caressing Fred's ear as he spoke the solitary word.
'Nothing,' Fred whispered back. They stood there quietly for a moment, neither of them moving, just gazing at each other's reflection, George's fingers still twined in the silken lengths of Fred's tie. 'You snogged me,' Fred finally murmured.
George's mouth curved up into a somehow more delicate and shy version of his usual cheeky grin. 'You snogged me!' he whispered in faux accusation against Fred's ear.
Eyes still glued to each other in the mirror, they both nodded a little. 'We snogged,' they said in unison.
'We snogged,' Fred repeated in a vague murmur as he watched George's fingers resume their work on his tie. Of course they did. Of course they snogged each other. It was surreal and natural and inevitable and beautifully weird, wasn't it?
George slid the finished silky knot into place and smoothed the collar of Fred's school shirt down. 'Fred - '
'Where's the Pepper-Up?'
'Huh? Oh. Um…' George stepped away and crossed to his trunk beneath one of the windows. The mess within, when he flipped up the lid, was sufficient to make him take the easy option and simply hold his hand over the jumble and intone, 'Accio Pepper-Up potion.' He tossed the tiny bottle to Fred first, then took it back while steam was shooting out of Fred's ears and took a dose for himself.
Fred blinked several times in quick succession. Phew! Talk about hitting the spot! He looked down at his uniform, surprised that he'd managed to get appropriately dressed at all, considering the torpor he'd been experiencing. 'Nice knot, by the way.'
George tilted his head to one side and knocked it with the heel of his hand as if to clear it, remnants of steam drifting away. 'You tried to fall asleep on me at the bloody breakfast table!'
'Heh!' Fred smirked. 'So I did! At least I didn't cuddle up for a kiss…'
'That's not funny, Fred.'
'Yeah, it is.'
George suddenly stepped in close close close, his right arm circling around Fred's waist and pulling Fred up tight against his body, their pelvises sliding against each other, George's face leaning in toward Fred's, his breath beginning to play upon Fred's lips as their mouths got nearer and nearer. Fred felt his eyelids droop to half-mast as he tilted his chin up in anxious anticipation.
Then, just as suddenly, George let go of him and stood back, chuckling as he watched Fred actually stumble a little in response to the abrupt loss of the almost-snog.
'No, bro - THAT'S funny!'
Fred glared for a moment, but George's chuckles were already making him smile. 'You're the biggest prick I know, I swear.'
George quirked an eyebrow at him. 'Well, if anybody can know that for sure, it's you…'
Fred grabbed up the nearest pillow he could reach and lobbed it at his brother.
Second half here.