When the Darkness Broke In

Chapter ~ XV

Tell Me Nothing But Home-Truths

"An episode to file under 'Never Try Again'..." Easyworld

Draco Malfoy had never dressed so quickly or negligently in his life; last night's jeans from the floor, a jumper (inside out), odd socks, no t-shirt. He hadn't brushed his teeth or his hair, and he was running down the stairs two at a time. Harry and Cross were dragging on coats at the bottom and Granger was carefully tightening the lid on a flask of something hot. Practical, practical.

He didn't even want to think about the potential that they might be too late for soup or tea or anything else at all. He didn't want to keep imagining blue lips, frosted red hair and blank, staring eyes, but he couldn't help it. He felt nauseous. There wasn't even anyone he could tell how scared he was. Harry was the last person he'd offer that information to; who else was there? Granger? Cross? George's own twin?

"Don't stand there!" he snapped, shoving Harry back so he could reach the door latch and get outside. From the living room there was a sudden, girly shriek of "THANK GOD!" and Draco bitterly thought 'At least someone's had good news...'.

The snow outside was in a drift several inches high against the door. With a pang of even greater concern he raised his leg and stepped knee-deep into it, stumbling on the invisible step. He could hear Harry behind him, telling Granger to watch her footing. It seemed ludicrous to think he was worrying about her with everyone around, on the doorstep to the house, when there was every possibility that the very same over-sight could have resulted... could have resulted... frozen red strands on a pale forehead... blue lips he'd last seen when they'd withdrawn from his own... He shivered and bit at his own lip, wading through the snow. He had no idea what they were going to do. Retrace their steps up from Hogsmeade? What if George had taken a shortcut across the edge of the forest? What if he was so covered - with so much snow having fallen - if he was so covered...

He gave a tiny hiccup and knotted his fingers in his fringe; he'd forgotten to wear any gloves.

"D'you think...?" Gavin said quietly, leaning in to Harry and apparently not wanting to finish. "I mean..."

Harry shook his head and shrugged. It was right what they said about guilt; how would he feel if the last thing he ever said to George was a snide comment about Draco? How come he was always losing people? He looked at the boy beside him as he ran his fingers through his hair, and grasped the hand frantically as it fell to his side. Gavin gave him a small smile and fixed an anxious frown on the disturbed snow ahead of them.

Ron was looking rather pale, but if Fred said he didn't think George was hurt or anything...It worried him more that George might be completely alive, but in the hands of some Death Eater, God-knows-Where. So their father was safe, but everyone knew Arthur Weasley The Muggle Nut. And everyone knew who his kids were...

The gates to the road loomed ahead of them; the landscape beyond like a great white canvas littered with spots of black where the boughs on the border on the forest could be seen in the distance. Where were they to begin? It all looked identical, even though they knew it so well...

Fred took a deep breath and wondered if his gut instinct was right after all. What if that moment when he puked over someone's front wall had had nothing to do with the large quantities of alcohol that were hammering at the inside of his head and giving him a very acute reminder of exactly how much he had drunk? For a moment he had the worst feeling that maybe he was missing something very, very ominous.

But suddenly, as if on cue, a familiar voice called out, "Where are you lot going without me, eh?".

Every single person in the group whirled around and stared back at him as he bounded down the main steps and made his way over. No one said anything, but a couple of people glanced towards the back of the group. Draco had been striding ahead of the rest of them, and now he was furthest away; or, he was until he barged through the assembled bunch, almost falling over himself to see. He staggered between Gina and Simon, the snow practically up to his knees. He looked like a frightened kid. To be fair, a frightened kid who had just lost his parents and evidently thought they weren't to be the last.

Fred thought, for a second, that the Slytherin was going to fall into George's arms and burst into tears. Which would have been hilarious, naturally. Now that he could see his twin was obviously completely fine, Fred was perfectly fine, too. Pretty much anything was fair game for a laugh. But then, there was a stunned silence. He thought that maybe he was finally seeing Draco Malfoy utterly overcome. As it turned out, he was right. He was overcome with fury.

"Where the hell have you been?" he ground out through his teeth, shaking. His knuckles clenched so tight they went white.

George blinked at him and shrugged, "I went up to the dorm and stayed there."

"Oh, you did, did you?" the blond boy demanded angrily. "Did you even think that it might be a completely stupid thing to do without telling someone?"

Fred watched as his brother shrugged again and looked away, saying, "No." He was either lying or he was hiding something.

"You never thought that people might worry? You never thought for a minute that people might be concerned when you didn't turn up at the party, and you weren't at Harry's? DIDN'T YOU?"

George gave a forced laugh and said, "Calm down, Draco."

Fred winced. Bad move, little brother. Really bad move.

The blond boy stared at him aghast, for a moment, before exploding, "CALM DOWN? YOU'RE TELLING ME TO CALM DOWN? WE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD!" He looked like he might lunge at him. "YOU FUCKING STUPID - "

"Woah, watch the language, mate."

"Don't you -" the kid's voice was shaking; Fred felt like he was watching a Quidditch accident in slow motion, " - don't you ever tell me to calm down. Ever."

"What's the problem? I'm fine, okay?" George's temper was starting to erode, now, because he sounded tense. Malfoy had about two sentences before he got a taste of his own.

"The problem is that you are a inconsiderate, thoughtless bastard and I can't believe - "

"WHAT DO YOU CARE ANYWAY?"

Wow, half a sentence.

"What?"

"What does it even matter? It's not as if you give a rat's arse anyway, is it? You can't just pick and choose when it's alright for you to keep fucking tabs on me, okay?"

"Choose? You were the one who left!"

"You practically threw me out!"

Next to Fred, Gina muttered, "Ooh, this is getting interesting." Those weren't quite the words he'd have picked, but she had a point.

"You liar! You complete - "

"You know what? I don't fucking care! It only happened because we were both completely out of it, anyway, didn't it?"

An ornamental tree lining the path to the left of them suddenly burst into extremely hot flames. Simon, Gavin and Ron - who had been standing closest to it - recoiled in surprise. Hermione immediately started blurting out streams of Latin in attempt to put it out.

"How would you know?" Draco asked coldly. "You never had the nerve to ask in the first place. It's a real pity I don't seem to have quite the talent I used to for picking my friends."

He turned and stormed away towards the cottage.

George looked for a moment as if someone had ripped out his insides and handed them to him, but no one was paying attention to that, they were either watching the Slytherin or trying to help put out the tree, which was rather a pointless exercise.

"What the bloody hell is going on?"

Black and Lupin had literally appeared out of nowhere at the school gates and walked directly into the whole situation. By the time Fred looked back to his brother, he was dragging himself miserably up the school steps. He kicked the heavy wooden doors as he passed. Fred didn't hesitate before following.

George got to the seventh-year boys' dorm and slammed the door behind him so hard that it bruised Fred's wrist where he had put his arm up to protect his face, having been halfway into the room at the time. He kicked at his trunk and snatched up his pillow, hurling it across the room with such force that it knocked the jug off the dresser. Then he realised his brother was there, and pressed his palms into his eyes before falling backwards on to his bed, defeatedly.

Fred waited for a few moments, seeing if he would speak of his own accord, and shut the door carefully, rubbing his arm. When George said nothing, he sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, beside him.

"You going to tell me, then?" he asked.

Without uncovering his eyes, George mumbled, "Made a prat of myself."

"You did just now, yeah. So, what d'you do? 'Cause it sounds like whatever it was Snowflake hasn't quite got over it, yet."

"Never?" the other boy replied sarcastically.

"Well, if you'd seen the fit he threw this morning..."

"Huh?" George lowered his hands a little and looked across at him, confused.

"I thought he'd die of a broken heart on the spot if something had happened to you. Which, little brother, was a fucking inconsiderate thing to have put us all through."

"Fuck off."

"Don't be a knob."

"I'm old enough to look after myself. I don't need babysitting."

"Georgie, Georgie, Georgie, you haven't seen the papers, have you?"

George blinked and sat up a little; "Why? What's happened?"

"Massacre. Loads of kids from Pendle."

"You're joking?"

"You know when I'm joking."

He watched as George sat up and rubbed his eye awkwardly. "Sorry... I never knew. I'd have come back if I'd have known."

"'Course you would. It weren't that, though. He was doing his nut before we knew about that..."

George cradled his head in his hands, briefly, before getting up and starting to pace the room. "What does it matter?"

"How far did it go? The way you're acting anyone'd think you've been cherry picking, old chum."

George stopped pacing and rested his forearms on the windowsill, burying his face in them. "I kissed him," he admitted, after a moment and kicked the wall in frustration. "Kind of."

"How did you kiss him 'kind of', you idiot?" Fred laughed, before the tone of the other boy's voice cut him short.

"I'm not sure I did..."

"What?" He had made many assumptions about what had gone on, but he hadn't quite banked on anything as confusing as this.

"I'm not sure I started it, alright?"

"So what's your problem?"

"Obviously, it was a bloody mistake, either way. He was completely out of his box - and so was I, you know? It was a stupid thing to do. I've fucked it all up, now. I should never have let it get that far..."

Fred rolled his eyes at the sulky tone and shook his head, "Look, mate, if all you did was kiss him...! What was it, some kind of soppy little snog goodnight, you big, gay toss-pot?"

"No..."

He laughed, because in a way, it was quite funny. His little Georgie and Draco Malfoy! Funny, and completely bloody insane. "So come on, loverboy, what did you do to him?"

George turned and leaned back against the wall and gazed at him sulkily. He wasn't in the mood to make light of this, evidently. Fred waited for him to say something, but instead he just stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor.

"Oh come on, mate, you're acting like a bleeding girl."

"It was just - more than that." He cast him an uncomfortable look and muttered, "He seemed really up for it..."

"Up for it, up for it, or...?"

"No - no...well, no, I didn't think so... Just, okay with what was going on."

"And he wasn't?"

"All of a sudden I'm sitting there, and he's looking down at me and I opened my mouth to say something stupid... I can't even think what, now... and before I can even say anything, right, he's telling me I should go. He was going on about me getting back to Oscar's and stuff...and... You see? You see - it's like it's my fault or something! But you know - he practically asked me to kiss him. I'd decided not to and everything, before he started getting all bloody touchy-feely on me."

Fred scrunched up his eyes for a moment and said, "Eh?"

"Well..."

"Did he ask you to kiss him?"

"More or less..."

"And you did."

"Yeah."

"Then he knocked you back."

"He told me to leave."

"Did he actually say, 'George' or Pumpkin, or whatever, 'I want you to leave'?"

George looked uncomfortable. "I opened my mouth to say whatever and he was like, 'Oh yeah, you're right, you should go'."

"And... you did."

"Yeah, of course I did!"

Fred gave a snort of laughter and walked over to clap him on the shoulder. "Well done, Georgie. Well done."

"What?"

"You're as useless with blokes as you are with women, aren't you? I reckon if you'd asked, your little Snowflake would have spread 'em right where he was."

George blushed and grimaced, "Shut up, Fred."

"Look, he's a big girl, he's giving you the run around like a girl. Just treat him like one."

"He's not a girl, though, is he? He's my best mate and now he fucking hates me anyway, so what does it matter?"

"There's no way he hates you, dumb arse. And you know, you call him your 'best mate' all the time, but let's face it - you've only even known him a couple of weeks."

The other boy scowled and muttered, "We hit it off..."

"And that means he can't be replaced?"

"I don't want anyone replaced!"

"He's not Ollie, mate."

"I know..." George said, looking as though he understood that all too well, "It's me, this time."

~*~

The others, minus Remus, who thought it best to follow Draco and see if he was alright, were ushered towards the school and ordered to wait in the Great Hall while Sirius went to find Dumbledore. They sat in silence, at first, clustered around the near end of the Gryffindor table, none of them entirely sure what to say. It was uncomfortable. They had all been reminded, now that Black and Lupin had returned, that there were things happening in the world that were bigger than the drama surrounding Draco and George.

It didn't stop Gavin chewing on his lip and eventually asking, "D'you reckon they're alright?"

Ron looked at him with an expression that suggested he quite hoped they weren't. No one else really responded until Harry muttered, "It's not like it'd last anyway."

"You don' know that," Gavin replied, sighing and fiddling with a strand of hair that kept falling in his eyes.

"I think Georgie really likes him, actually," Gina informed them with a slightly biting edge to her voice. "Which makes two of you, doesn' it?"

"Oh, get over it, Gina," Harry told her, sounding as if he couldn't really be bothered to have this argument again, "you don't even know me, okay? Stop trying to make judgements on things that are way beyond you."

Gavin squeezed his hand under the table and murmured, "'Arry..." warningly.

Harry rested his head on the older boy's shoulder wearily and said, "Tell her to shut up, then."

Gavin didn't, but he cast her a beseeching look and wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders. None of them knew what sort of night they'd had. It was an awful thing to witness, seeing someone in that much pain and being unable to do anything about it; worse that it was Harry. Not being able to make things better - not quite understanding where the agonising pain was coming from or even knowing where to begin... Harry wouldn't even let him go downstairs or get any of the others because there were no grown-ups around and he didn't want them panicking. He was so blasé about it - acting as if his scar mysteriously burning in the middle of the night was normal - common place! Even once the younger boy had fallen asleep - fallen asleep or passed out, Gavin tried to convince himself of the former - he had lain awake, waiting for it to get light outside. He had hardly slept at all. But he had managed; he felt a little proud of that.

"Well," Simon shrugged, looking at him with the sort of look he knew meant 'You're pushing your luck, pal', "whatever happened's not really our business..."

"They didn't seem to care much, or they wouldn't have yelled it across the school, would they?" Ron snorted.

"Ach, well... I think everyone were quite highly strung..."

"Maybe nothing did happen, then," Harry smirked against his shoulder. He let it go.

"Don't you think Draco has enough problems, without becoming the focus of even more gossip?"

"It's not gossip, Herm, it's just us..."

"Well I think he must have been terrified, and with good reason. Regardless of whether he and George... Regardless of what may or may not have happened, they are very close, and Draco can't possibly be expected to have got over losing both his parents - "

"Why are you taking his side?" Ron asked, sounding put out.

"It's not a matter of taking sides, Ronald - "

"He's still Malfoy."

"No he's not," Harry argued idly, "He's Snowflake, now, isn't he?"

"Oh, don't you start!" the red-head grimaced, scrunching up his nose like a pre-schooler.

"Whatever's goin' on," Gavin broke in, not sure he could face an all-out argument again, "'s none of our business, an' I agree wi 'Ermione. Drop it or someone'll 'ear who we don' want knowin'."

"On a similar note..." Simon said, regarding him with an arched eyebrow. Gavin sighed and nodded slightly, fully aware that he was right. He nudged Harry a little and made him sit up; automatically, their hands fumbled for each other under the table.

"You know," he began, desperate to change the subject, "wha' you did outside 'Ermione, that were quick thinkin'... Lucky you were there."

Hermione gave a faint blush and said, "Well, I simply couldn't leave it to burn - Professor Sprout told us that plants feel things just as we do - the poor thing must have been in agony!"

"I've never seen anyone manage to make about a million gallons of water from a wand though, 'Mione," Ron said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders quite freely; Gavin couldn't help but feel a little envious of their liberty.

"Maybe you're our Water," Harry mumbled, his head now resting on his hand as he leaned on the table, looking as though the early rise and boundless exuberance of an hour ago had deserted him completely and the night's events were now catching up on him. Gavin decided to ignore Simon's warnings and raised a hand to soothingly stroke the back of the younger boy's head, concerned that maybe he should go home and get some more rest.

"You could be right, yeh know..." Simon said, rolling his eyes at Gavin and turning his attention to Harry.

"I know I could be," Harry mumbled, "Water has to be a girl anyway..."

Hermione turned very pink and began to protest that she thought it was ridiculous, but suddenly a thought came to Gavin and he blurted out, no longer feeling bound to making a fool of himself by the Slytherin's presence, "Well, you'd think - Nymphs are always women, aren' they? An' you did a really good job, an ev'rythin'..."

"It was merely textbook," Hermione replied, blushing even more. "If something catches fire you almost certainly use water to extinguish it - "

"Yeah, but you knew what you were doing and everything," Ron agreed. "I reckon it's you. You've got to be, 'Mione."

"So what are you," Hermione scoffed lightly, "'Flamed Air?"

Everyone stared at her.

"Me?" Ron half-squealed. "Why would I be Air?"

"Because you're a wind-bag?" Gina offered.

"Nah," Harry mumbled back, "That'd be Herm."

"Harry!"

It was hard to tell who had replied first, because several people made the exclamation, but it was Ron who said it loudest. Gavin winced a little and looked apologetically at the others.

Simon gazed at him in disbelief for a moment before shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

"I don't know what to make of any of this," Hermione sighed, looking perplexed, "I was so sure that we needed someone from each house to create the balance - I can't imagine why a prophecy would feature me or Ron."

"What," Ron demanded indignantly, "it's alright for Malfoy to be part of it, but not me? Cheers."

"Oh, don't be silly, Ronald."

"He's got a point, Herm," Harry said, straightening up and looking at her directly, "You two have always been part of this - way more than Draco ever was. If it's going to be anyone, it's you two."

Ron blushed but gave a small, self-satisfied "Hah!" in her direction. Gavin had a feeling Ron's opportunities for bettering his girlfriend at something were few and far between.

"Well, fine," she snapped, folding her arms, "We'll look at it again later. We ought to hope there's something in this because at the moment things are looking really rather dire, wouldn't you say?"

Around the table a few people nodded grimly.

"He's making a show of the fact he's back," Harry muttered darkly. "Making a point..."

"Elvis is back in the building!" Gina grinned, earning herself unamused, and in Hermione's case, rather appalled stares. "Aw, c'mon, you guys! Y' gotta see the funny side in these things..."

"Funny side?" Harry ground out, rising to his feet and looking as though he wanted smash her skull into tiny fragments with the pewter jug half way down the table. "Where is the 'funny side' in war, Gina? Can you tell me that? You're a Muggle-born, you've never been affected by all this - you never lost your family, like me and Gavin, your parents were never hurt in the attacks like Simon's - or - or been terrorised by your own father because he follows that monster! You've never seen people killed, people you care about weren't so torn apart by what happened the first time around that they spent - "

"'Arry," Gavin said softly, pulling at his boyfriend's coat and trying to tug him gently back into his seat. He didn't want to think about what he had had taken from him, because what he had been given in its place had always been enough. And it was embarrassing, being used as ammunition, even if Harry was making a very valid point. "Calm down - she didn' mean it... Come on, let's not start fightin' ourselves as well, eh?"

He thought Harry was ignoring him at first, until he turned to him and mumbled, "I want to go back to the cottage..." Gavin merely nodded and got to his feet, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and kissing the top of his head. Privately, he wondered whether the stress of knowing the Dark Lord had returned to such power was getting too much for Harry. He couldn't help but be a rather worried.

As they turned to walk away the Irish girl got to her feet and sneered back, her voice shaking as if she were suppressing tears, "Don't you talk to me about war - I'm a Catholic from Ulster, you arrogant bastard! 'What do I know about war?' in-fucking-deed. You want to take your head out o' your arse, sonny and start thinkin' outside of your own fucking clan!"

Gavin gave Harry a gentle push to keep him moving. The sooner he got him out of this situation and back to the comfort of the cottage, the better for everyone concerned. It seemed best to keep Harry well away from...well, everyone, when he was in this state. Not everyone would be willing to tolerate it for long.

~*~

Sirius strode along the second floor corridor towards the headmaster's office. Remus's morning news-owl had followed them to Sussex and brought with it a staggering blow. Neither of them could quite believe it, at first. They had slumped back on to the edge of the chintz bedspread and read the article over and over again, willing it not to be true. The attacks on the Ministry had been bad, the attacks on St. Mungo's unmitigated evil, but this - this was an atrocity beyond comprehension! Children! Children taken from their beds in the night and murdered so horrifically that it didn't bear thinking about. Muggles couldn't freeze fire and enjoy 'pleasant tickling sensations' like their own forebears could - Voldemort knew this - his Death Eaters knew this! This was beyond the realms of evil.

If there needed to be a declaration of war, this had been it.

They had left the bed and breakfast in such a hurry that they had no time for breakfast, and there hadn't been an awful lot of use made of the bed, either. Their first concern had been for Harry, their second, the Order. Something would surely be done, and they were both required to be there when it went underway.

He turned the final corner just in time to see the swishing of Snape's around the opposite corner, combined strangely with the distant clacking of McGonnagal's hurried footsteps fading into the opposite direction. He wondered where the hook-nosed bastard was off to and whether his double-crossing, traitorous schemes would yet again cause more problems than they solved. Bastard. Severus Snape remained one of Sirius Black's Least Favourite People. Particularly since Draco had let it slip that the conniving little rat had been putting down his Moony to students. He'd have his neck, one day, he bloody would.

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk when Sirius approached the doorway. The heavy wooden door was slightly ajar, and through the gap he saw the old man leaning on his desk with his head resting in long, bony-fingered hands. He looked tired and beleaguered; Sirius had seen him look so, before, but rarely. Any time that the man everyone had grown up so convinced would see things right and lead them through the darkest times showed weakness, it shook them. The very foundations of their defence relied upon their belief in Dumbledore. If he didn't know what to do, they were lost.

Carefully, Sirius knocked on the smooth wooden surface and waited to be called in. There was a short pause before he received any response.

"You may come in, Sirius, come in," the old man's voice called, with weary pleasantness. "I was expecting you."

Sirius wanted to point out that it didn't really look like it, but he daren't. Now was not a time to question him. He'd already seen enough uncertainly in the man he revered that any further suggestion seemed likely to bring the world crashing down around his ears.

"I came as soon as we got back - Remus's gone back to the cottage for now. He's dealing with teenage drama queens at the moment."

Briefly, there was a twinkle in the bright blue eyes and a wry smile touched knowing lips. "Ah, yes, of course. Mr. Malfoy will be quite alright, I am sure. Things have a funny habit of turning out alright in the end, when you are young and eager."

"Yeah, might take fourteen years to do it, though," Sirius replied, not waiting to be asked to sit. Dumbledore acknowledged his remark with a slight nod of the head and nothing more. There was little point in debating what could not be changed. "What happened? I mean, we know what happened - but how did he get away with it? How could we not have heard anything? Not even Moody had any clue? What? Because you wouldn't have just let us go on fucking holiday if you did, would you?"

Dumbledore gazed at him from behind his half-moon spectacles. The shine in his eyes had definitely gone. "I will not lie to you, Sirius. There had been word - unsubstantiated, of course - of an unknown attack on an unknown target. We had no way of telling and no reason to stop you from taking a much-earned rest when you both chose to."

"You've got to be fucking joking! It could have been the school! What use are we defending the school when we're on the South-fucking-Coast? What, do you think Bat-Boy would hold the fort or something? That little bastard would probably run off back to his old chums at the first fucking chance!"

"Sirius!" Dumbledore said dangerously, his voice low and clear. "You will sit down and you will listen."

Sheepishly, Sirius sat - unsure when he had even taken to his feet.

"I will tell you again what I have told you many times in the past: I believe Severus is as loyal to this school - and to me - and both you or Remus have always shown yourselves to be. I place my faith in him because he has given me reason to.

"My decision to allow you to go to Hastings was one I made in sound judgement, despite your suppositions to the contrary. It seems clear to me that what both you and Remus need at this moment is time to re-discover much that you have lost; as individuals, and as a unit." Sirius raised his head to look into the now tender eyes before him. "The Marauders were the heart of our Order, Sirius, young as you were. All that remains from that time is your bond with the inimitable 'Mr. Moony' and the great innovation that you shared. It is of paramount importance that you are given the time to recover from your losses - both physical and memorial - and rejoin the group as the properly unified partnership you are so fondly remembered as."

Sirius swallowed a lump in his throat, remembering - in the fragmented jigsaw of his memories - the way the Order had welcomed them. The way James and Lily would work together and the way he, James and the Rat would sit around a table with Remus attempting to process the logistics of his strategies.

"You understand each other like no two other members of the Order, Sirius. Can you understand my decision to allow you the space and take this chance?"

Sirius looked up at him sharply, about to argue that he couldn't, when the headmaster continued:

"In my absence, we will require new leadership, Sirius." The look in Dumbledore's eyes told him more than any number of words ever could. "It would not be prudent to allow all our eggs to remain in one basket under such circumstances."

"I - I can't replace you!" he spluttered, terror at the very prospect of such responsibility.

"I would not expect you to, alone. We must prepare for every eventuality, Sirius. Together, I am certain that I could rest in the knowledge that my work is left in capable hands." He gave a small smile, "Or perhaps, paws."

"Are you expecting to go somewhere then?" Sirius challenged, feeling a somewhat juvenile defiance welling in his chest. Whomever - whatever - it was thought they could depose the one person in their world who never gave up hope - never let injustices lie and had the strength to fight their causes - had another fucking thing coming.

"No, no - not in the slightest," the old man smiled, rising and approaching the golden bird on its nearby perch. "I merely felt that it would be safest to allow my," he paused to feed the bird (which promptly burst into flames, singing his fingers), pretending to search for the words, "successors - "

"Understudies, more like," Sirius muttered, darkly.

"- were out of immediate danger. We could not afford to lose you both so early on, could we, dear boy?"

Sirius watched for a few minutes as the small, pink creature in the ashes began to sprout small, yellow feathers one at a time, looking just as stoned as it always did.

"So what do you want us to do?" he asked heavily, feeling immediately weighed down by the new burden upon his shoulders. "So I'm expected to explain all this to Moo, am I?"

"I feel that you would be best able to explain this to him. It will allow me some time to muster my best skills of persuasion for when he inevitably visits me to explain that his condition will in someway bring about the implosion of our solar system and numerous surrounding galaxies, should he be placed in any position of greater significance than over-glorified librarian."

Sirius did wish he could defend that small joke at his beloved Moony's expense, but unfortunately it was right on the nail and any attempt to suggest otherwise would have been both a waste of time and wit. So, he nodded reluctantly and rose.

"What do you want us to do in the meantime?"

"You will relinquish some of your timetable to Remus, as he is currently available - "

"Only because the bastards don't think people like him are important enou -"

"Yes, Sirius," Dumbledore interrupted, giving him an indulging nod, "I quite agree. You will relinquish half of your lessons to him. The remainder of your time you will work with me. This applies for both of you. I will need Remus's research skills as equally as your understanding of the, ah... shall we say, 'Rogue Mind'? I am confident that the connection both of your share with our students will make this a very easy transition for you."

Sirius looked at him doubtfully.

"I quite look to spending more time with you," he said with an alarming grandfatherly smile. Sirius, in all honesty, was not. Remus's eccentricities were quite enough to deal with on the average day; adding hours of Dumbledore's mental jiggery-pokery felt rather ominous.

"Er, thanks..." He started to back away towards the door, filled with a leaden knowledge that explaining whatever he had just agreed to, to Remus, was unlikely to encourage any sort of affection for the next ten years

"Oh, and Sirius?"

"Yes?"

"No more fanged toads in lessons, I beg you. Ever since the incident with the jock strap in my Quidditch days I find them rather fearsome. That is all."

Sirius Black, thirty-seven years old and supposedly reckless in his bravery, was quite convinced he had never been so disturbed in his life.

~*~

Remus hesitated in the kitchen, surveying the half-eaten breakfast scattered across the table, and frowned. They had evidently left in a hurry. He contemplated making some tea to give him an excuse to go upstairs and disturb the boy, but he decided against it and made his way to the hall. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and listened carefully. There was nothing. Hesitantly, he climbed the steps and listened again outside the door. He thought he heard a slight sniffling sound, and sucked on his lip for a minute before calling, "Draco?" softly. There was no answer; he called again. "Draco, are you alright? It's Remus..."

"I'd appreciate it if you left me alone."

"Wouldn't you like to tell me what happened?"

"No."

There was a distinct inflection of angst there, but that was hardly surprising.

"Well, I don't plan on leaving, so I'll be out here, should you change your mind."

"There's no point..."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Don't you think it can be resolved, then?"

"It isn't as if he cares..."

"Why not?"

"He said so... He practically said so."

Remus settled down on the top step, wincing as his knee clicked. He had a feeling that he may be there quite some time. "And why is that? I thought you and George were very close... You certainly were yesterday..."

From the other side of the door he heard a distinct burst of ironic laughter.

"Draco?"

"You have no idea..."

"Really."

"Oh yes, really."

"Well, perhaps you could fill me in?"

There was silence for a few moments, before the teenager's voice answered, much closer, now; he must have moved to sit behind the door, "It doesn't matter."

"Well, forgive me for saying, but it seems to matter to you rather a lot."

There was another lengthy pause before Draco admitted, slowly, "Yesterday, you could say, we were rather closer than we have been..."

Remus experienced an awful feeling of dread and momentary certainly that Lucius Malfoy would find his way back from the dead in order to hold him entirely responsible for this. "I see," he said, flatly.

"You don't have to panic, you know..."

"Oh, good."

"He ran away before anything happened."

"George?" Remus asked in surprise; it didn't seem to make any sense at all. It had seemed fairly obvious to him that the older boy was utterly smitten with Draco.

"No, the tooth fairy, who do you think?"

Remus managed a small cough and an "Ah."

The voice on the other side of the door took on a rather whiny quality as Draco complained, "I don't understand, Remus. It really seemed as though he liked me - and then..." There was a sigh and a long pause, "I thought he was dead or something. I thought that he must have got lost in the snow or fallen down a ditch because he was drunk and it was all because of me! He could have caught hypothermia or just... I was actually worried about him, the fool! But it's not as if he cares less, is it?"

"I'm sure he does, I'm sure he's very touched that you were so concerned, Draco."

"No, he's not. He thinks I'm stupid. And he wishes none of it had ever happened."

"Well," Remus rubbed at his forehead in confusion, "What is it you think he regrets?"

The voice from the other side of the door went conspicuously quiet for several moments. "You won't be angry?"

Rather put on the spot, Remus hesitated before saying, with some trepidation, "Well, I shall try not to over-react... Even if Sirius and I are not your legal guardians, we do have something of a moral obligation to ensure your safety while you are under our roof..."

"I've already told you he left, Lupin!"

"So, what it is you're concerned about?"

There was another pause; "We...kissed..."

"Oh." Well, that was rather less alarming than he had anticipated.

"...And things..."

"Ah..." A saying involving counting and chickens sprang to mind. "And at what point did he choose to leave, so unexpectedly?"

There was another short burst of sardonic laughter and Draco replied, "I was about to tell him..." His voice trailed off uncomfortably.

"That you like him?" Remus suggested, trying to sound in some way encouraging.

"That I liked it."

"Ah..." He should have sent Sirius.

"... That I like him. Well... perhaps I had already suggested that, by that point... I can only remember certain parts. I was..." It seemed such a struggle for him to say all this; Remus wondered whether the door between them was more of a help or a hindrance. "I was going to tell him... maybe not even then - maybe today - but I wanted to say that Harry doesn't matter..."

"Doesn't he?"

"I... well, yes, he does, but not the same... Does that change things? Will I have to leave?"

"No, no, don't be foolish, of course not!" Remus replied. "It's actually something of a relief."

The voice from the other side of the door sounded puzzled, "Why?"

"Because it's one less complication to have to worry about, mainly."

"Right...Well, I shouldn't expect to be seeing as much of George Weasley, now, either."

"Are you quite sure it's that serious?"

"I didn't think so at the time... I thought... When he left, he seemed very tense and I thought then that I had done something terribly wrong, but then he turned back and made a point of kissing me goodbye, so I assumed we were alright... And then I woke up this morning and no one knew where he was. He said he was going back to the party, but he didn't, he went to the castle and had everyone worried out of their minds! What does he think he was even doing?"

Slowly, Remus was building up something of a picture of the previous night's events. They were rather skewed and somewhat biased toward Draco's point of view, but he had a nagging suspicion that he wasn't the only tragic neurotic in this household, at all.

"What did he say when he decided to leave? Did he make any excuses?"

"Well..."

"Well?"

"It was rather complicated."

"In what way?"

"I thought he was going to tell me it was all a terrible misunderstanding, never to be spoken of again, and reminded him that he was supposed to be going back... I didn't want him to think it - if he thought it was important to me and it was nothing to him, I'd look like a fool..."

"So you suggested he leave?"

"Not entirely..."

"Well, I have a feeling that that is the impression he received and he quite possibly feels that he was the one being rejected."

Remus was surprised when, after several moments of silence, the door to the bedroom opened revealing a thoroughly dishevelled boy looking at him uncomfortably as he reached up from where he sat to hold the door handle.

"Really?" he said.

"Sirius would have."

"George is not Sirius, Lupin," the boy said with a sort of seriousness that made Remus smile.

"Quite; we wouldn't be able to stand two of him, now, would we?"

Draco gave a small grin.

"Honestly, Draco," he continued, earnestly, "It's easy to assume that those with more outward confidence are completely impossible to hurt, but it's rarely true."

"But this morning - !"

"He probably told himself that was that - he's probably feeling very unhappy, too."

"He could have come after me..."

"Pride isn't a trait solely reserved for Slytherins, Draco..."

The blond boy sighed and leaned his head against the edge of the door; "I know."

"In fact, I would say it is one of our most negative traits."

"Gryffindors don't actually have any positive traits."

"Indeed? You might have difficulty explaining that to Mr Weasley, next time you speak to him."

"If I ever do," the blond boy said, cynically.

"You will, I'm certain of it."

The boy gave a doubtful 'Hmm', before looking up at him suddenly and asking, "How was your trip?"

"My trip," Remus echoed, a small smile flitting across his face. "Let's just say it was uneventful."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"That isn't to say it was unpleasant - "

"Just disappointing, I suppose."

"Not at all. It's just rather a pity we had to return home so early. But I suppose everything happens for a reason. If we hadn't returned immediately, goodness knows what might have happened here!" He offered him a smile, but Draco didn't return it.

"The whole school would be one pile of ash, you mean?"

"That's not what I meant."

"I still lost control, though... it has all been a waste of effort, hasn't it?"

"Your lessons with Sirius helped, surely?"

"Until this morning."

"We all make mistakes..."

"Do you ever have the feeling that you are one?"

Remus paused for a moment before urging, "Talk to him, Draco. Don't waste your time being unhappy over something you still stand a chance to change. I'm sure I'm an old woman in your eyes, but do try to trust my judgement on this."

Draco looked up and him and frowned, slightly, "The ironic thing is, Remus, I do trust you. Do you think I would still be sitting here, if I didn't?"

"Ah, but trust in me and trust in what I have to say are not necessarily the same thing..."

"Perhaps; perhaps last night is proof that my judgement is rather off at the moment."

By lunchtime Draco was still languishing on his bed, having refused anything to eat on the grounds that he wasn't hungry. Remus had tried to convince him it was just because he was having a bad day and that cramming something down his throat would in some way make him feel better. Draco had still refused, the idea making him feel sicker than ever.

He knew he had to go and talk to George at some point. He knew he may have been at fault in some ways, because he hadn't made it clear what he wanted, but he refused to accept that it was entirely his fault. He wasn't really angry, any more. He doubted, now, that George had scared them deliberately or that he may even have considered the implications of his actions (he was a Weasley Twin - it would be thoroughly out of character for him to consider the implications for a minute). And he had started to wonder exactly why George had chosen to go back to the castle instead of the party. If he had no intention of going back, he could have stayed...

Draco heaved himself up onto his elbows when a soft tap at the door disturbed him again. "Remus, I said I wasn't hungry, really - "

He stopped mid-sentence as the door opened a little and George peered in.

"Hey..." the older boy said, awkwardly, "Mind if I, um...?"

Draco stared at him and pulled himself into a sitting position hurriedly; "Come in."

"Er... yeah. Can I?"

"That's what I just said."

"Right..." George sidled in and closed the door behind him, looking sheepish. He hovered there for a moment, obviously thoroughly uncomfortable and eyeing the space at the end of the bed as though it might bite him, apparently unsure what to do with his hands as they wandered from pocket to hair to folded around his chest in a half-hug. Draco's stomach flipped, and he wasn't sure whether it was because a part of him hoped the other boy was nervous or because another part was terrified of what he was going to say. When George said nothing, Draco found himself deciding that if anyone was going to put this right, they would have to do so soon. So, he took a deep breath and hoped that if he at least started a conversation, things might come a little more easily.

"You can sit down, you know," he said, trying to keep his voice neutral. "I won't bite."

George frowned a bit, it may have been a slight wince, and murmured, "No, I know..." He didn't sit.

The awkward silence swept in, again.

"Well," Draco tried, taking a deep breath, "You're not dead, apparently."

"Um... no. Not yet."

"Do you anticipating being so any time soon?"

"Well... that sort of depends."

"Yes, it does. Either sit down or I'll flambé you."

The Gryffindor seemed to consider this threat for a moment, before carefully leaning back against the wall and sliding slowly down into a sitting position.

Draco felt his stomach lurch. I see.

"What now?" he forced himself to ask, keeping himself carefully in control of his expressions - and the shake of his voice. Now would be a really bad time to crack. Really bad.

"That's what I came to talk about."

"Of course."

"Yeah."

Where had that comfortable feeling gone? How, in the past twenty-four hours, had that entire feeling of closeness dissipated so completely? It felt like talking to Remus through the door; as though there was a large, plate-glass wall sitting between them. What was there to do, other than make the first move? There was a chance, he thought, of at least coming out of this with the upper hand if he took the initiative.

Quietly, he cleared his throat; "About last night..."

George looked up at him as though trying to suppress a feeling of trepidation. Gryffindors really were rubbish at concealing their emotions.

"...I enjoyed myself, you know."

"Yeah," the older boy nodded, with a smile that looked like invisible hands were pinching his cheeks and forcing him to, "So did I."

"Then how come you didn't go back...after?"

George shrugged; "I didn't feel like it."

"I see. So, what did you do instead?"

"I went back to our dorm and just..." he shrugged again, "Went to bed."

For a moment a bright and rather salacious burst of hope welled in Draco's stomach, but the look on the older boy's face as he pulled at frayed strands on his jumper rapidly extinguished it.

"Oh."

George glanced at him apologetically.

"What's wrong, Pumpkin?" Draco asked, finally. "Because you can't possibly imagine that I meant what I said this morning. I was just shocked because we had no idea what might have happened to you - well, that's not entirely true; we had plenty of ideas and they were all dreadful."

"I'm sorry, okay?"

"Well, no - not really, it's not. You're acting really distant and I don't know why - "

"Draco..."

It was quite amazing how being called by his own name, not the ridiculous nickname the older boy had given him, made him feel quite so sick. "Did you mean what you said?" he asked, quietly, remembering what the other boy had yelled across the lawns a few hours earlier.

"What?"

"You said, this morning, that what happened only happened because we were drunk. Did it?"

George gazed at the floor thoughtfully, "Didn't it?"

Oh, very evasive. "Well, I'm not sure it would have happened quite like that if we hadn't both consumed a considerable amount of Hobgoblin, but that doesn't make it the reason it happened... does it?"

The older boy looked up at him for a moment, as if searching for something to say, but he couldn't hold his gaze and rapidly gave up. "The thing is, Drac, I just... it's not that simple."

Draco swallowed and leaned back against his headboard, so that he didn't have to look at him, huddled on the floor. "Isn't it?" Well, this is going well.

Shut up.

"It's not that I don't want it to... I mean, I like you, Draco... Snowflake..."

But?

"But...?" And you can shut up.

"I just think we should try to be friends."

"What? What do you mean, 'friends'? We're already friends!" Told you so.

"I mean..." George's voice went suddenly very quiet, "I think it's best for everyone if we just... stay that way."

"What?"

"It's not, I mean, don't think I don't like you - I just..."

Draco's stomach stopped lurching and twisting and finally sank altogether; "Don't like me like that," he finished.

"No, no - I do! Seriously, Drac, I do like you 'like that', it's just..."

"What?" he could feel the chill in his voice as he said it, but it was done now.

"I think it'd be a really bad idea to let that happen again."

"I see." All the thoughts from the night before, laying on that same bed, thinking about how wonderful it was that George liked him, that finally he really had someone that thought he was special... completely pointless.

The disappointment must have shown on his face, because suddenly there was a Gryffindor resting his elbows on his bed, looking up at him with regretful hazel eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "It's not you..."

"Pull the other one, Weasley."

"Hey, listen to me, it's not you."

"So you said."

"Oh Snowflake, come on, think about it; I'm leaving here in a few months. It'd be emotional kamikaze..."

"What?"

"Kamikaze... you know... like suicide."

"Oh, thank you for that, very thoughtful."

"Huh? Oh - shit - look, I'm sorry."

"Would you mind just... going away?"

"What? Snowflake, listen a minute, will you?"

"I've already heard plenty."

"Obviously, you haven't or you'd stop acting like a prat." Draco glared at him and opened his mouth to reply, but George beat him to it. "Firstly, you're not over Harry. This time yesterday you were laying over that bed whining like a five year old because he was going out to the party with Gavin. You couldn't give a toss about me as anything more than a shoulder to cry on - "

"Don't make out this is about Harry."

"Yeah, but it is about Harry, isn't it? It's only because of the way you feel about him that we ever even spoke to each other."

"But he doesn't matter! I was trying to tell you this..."

George's frustrated expression dropped instantaneously and was replaced with a stunned one. "When?"

"Yesterday... last night. I don't know... but...He just doesn't."

"Oh." George sank back onto his heels and seemed to be struggling to process this information.

"I mean it."

"I...I know you do. You're mad, like that."

"You've been telling me to get over him for weeks!"

"Yeah... Sod's Law, isn't it?"

"I beg your pardon?"

George took a deep breath and rested his head on his forearms for a moment. "Drac, it doesn't really change the fact that you are still going to have to be here two years after I leave, does it?"

"So?" 'So' he could be off seeing and doing whomever he chose and you'd never know.

"I don't think it'd work."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've been here before, haven't I?"

"Not really."

"Oh, come on, Snowflake, don't mess around. You know it's true. You know all about me and Ollie - it's just like this."

"It's not!"

"Yes, it is. I'm him and you're me. Only thing is, you aren't even a little bit as experienced as I was and I'm not about to go and ruin things for you for the odd grope and maybe a half-cut shag in the broom shed the night before I leave. It's not happening."

Draco could feel himself blushing, and in a strange way, a tiny bit aroused. "Don't I get a say in this?" he asked, sullenly.

"You wouldn't want to be there, trust me, Snowflake."

"What if I'm only interested in the 'odd grope' and the 'half-cut shag', Pumpkin?"

George didn't even bother responding; he just looked up at him from beneath a doubtfully arched eyebrow and conveyed the words, 'Are you taking the piss?' in absolute clarity.

Draco tried again, his own inner voice laughing along with George, "Well, okay, what if I don't mind?"

"What if I do mind?"

"But why would you mind? I don't understand why it's such a big deal - "

"Listen to me, tit-wit," George said, almost laughing and reaching up to hold on to the sides of Draco's face and make him look straight at him, "I mind because I don't want to make you miserable and I don't want to get miserable when I have to leave here in June and then never come back again."

"And you'll miss me less if we don't ki - ?"

"Hopefully," George said firmly, dropping his hands down onto Draco's lap for an instant, before sitting back on his heels and wiping his palms on his jeans, "Hopefully."

"And what if it doesn't work like that?"

"Could you handle it? Seriously? I'm leaving, you'll be stuck here, there'll be people talking - knowing you, you wouldn't trust me for ten minutes out of your sight and then you'd get jealous... and alright, I'd be the same, but either way it's going to make us both completely miserable - "

"You've been thinking about this, haven't you?"

He felt George reach out and touch his hand as it knotted in the edge of the bed covers; "It's all I did all night."

"You're completely serious."

"Yeah," George said, nodding reluctantly.

"So you expect things to just carry on like before?"

"I was hoping they would... More or less."

"Do you even think that's possible? You do know that if a dog eats someone it has to be put down because it gets cravings for human meat, like bears do, don't you? What if this is the same and we just can't contain ourselves?"

"I wasn't really planning any sudden experimentation with cannibalism, Snowflake..."

"Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."

"Okay, okay... sorry. I do. I do understand... and I don't know."

"Honestly - it seems absurd, knowing that we both... If it had just been a kiss, it might have been different, but knowing you like me, too..."

"You've got Wil..."

"Look, you overestimate the power of my will if you think - "

"No, Wil. The bloke you were chatting up, last night..."

"I was not chatting him up!"

"He likes you, it's obvious."

"So?"

"Why don't you give it a go?" George suggested, not looking him in the eye, but trying to sound encouraging.

And suddenly Draco's mind was awash with Slytherin cunning.

"Well, it's funny you should say that... he was telling me I should go along to the Winter Fayre down on Hogsmeade Green, the day before we are officially back at school. I think he may have been asking me to go with him."

"Oh," George said flatly. "Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"Do you think I should go?" Say 'no', say 'no'.

"Well, yeah, of course you should. He's a decent bloke, isn't he? Not bad looking..."

"He... seems it."

"Good. Then I suppose it's settled. You go and owl him and let him know you'll go with him, and take it from there."

"But, George - "

"I think it'll be good... We went to the Fayre, once, they do it every year..."

Alright, so it wasn't going entirely to plan, but it might still make George jealous if he really thought Wil and Draco were getting close. It might, surely?

George sighed and climbed to his feet, brushing himself down. "I think I'll head off..."

"What? Why?"

"Just... because."

"Pumpkin, wait!" Draco said, jumping to his feet and grabbing at the older boy's sleeve. He fumbled for words for a moment and then asked, "Is this it, then?"

He thought that the look of pain on George's face might have given him some sort of relief, proving that he was unhappy about it, but it didn't.

"I suppose it is, yeah," he said, with stiff neutrality; he looked anywhere but at Draco.

Draco bit his lip, afraid that it would start quivering if he didn't. There was no way he was going to make this more depressing, more awkward, than it already was by being a baby about it. He nodded silently and let his fingers uncurl from George's sleeve. The older boy sighed and muttered, "Come 'ere", pulling him into a tight hug and burying his face in his hair.

Draco had to bite even harder on his lip.

After a minute or so, George pulled away a bit and looked down at him. "I'll see you later," he said, and when Draco hesitated he leaned down and gave him the barest brush of a kiss.

Then, he was gone.

Across the grounds, Fred was sitting on top of the main steps; for once, without the company of his girlfriend. He was watching the cottage in the distance, waiting for some sight of his brother. He knew what was supposed to be happening, but whether George would go through with it, he wasn't convinced either way. He was a stubborn bastard, sometimes, but it didn't take much to see the pillock was completely besotted with Malfoy. Or that the smug little albino wasn't exactly indifferent himself. The panic he'd been in that morning had been a pleasantly surprising revelation. Or, it had been until George had started getting overwhelmed by his sense of duty-to-do-right. The tit. Why he couldn't just let himself go with the flow and enjoy what the world threw at him, Fred wasn't quite sure, but if he was honest, he hadn't been quite the same since Oliver bloody Wood had left.

Fred thought it would all be much simpler if George just gave up on blokes and started seeing girls again.

He looked down at his stomach in resignation when he felt a sudden pang. Well, something's happened, he thought and stood up, leaning on the wall to wait for him to appear. A minute or so later, there he was, striding through the snow back towards the school.

"How d'it go?" he asked as George made his way up the steps.

The other boy looked up at him and shrugged, "I told him."

"That good, eh?"

"It's fine."

"How did he take it?" Fred asked, hanging back as George started to step through the main doors. Just as he expected, George stopped and turned around, looking at him with a sort of tired anxiety.

"He's got a date with Wil Rider-Digby. He'll live."

"You're kidding?"

"Nope. I told him to go. At least Wil's in the same year."

"You're cutting off your nose to spite your face, you are."

"Look, I'm not going to ruin things for him."

"And what about you?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Listen to me, Georgie, you're acting like you think you're stuck in one of mum's sticky little pink romance novels. 'Oh, woe! I'm a poor, tragic, little thing! I shall never get over my first porking in the Quidditch showers - er, I mean, first true love!'"

George snapped out a hand and clipped him around the top of the head, "He was not my first! And I wasn't in love with him, okay? You know that... you know what happened..."

"Yeah, and I know you've been a bit of a dick about it ever since, mate."

"Fred - "

Fred rolled his eyes and shook his head, patting him on the shoulder, "I know, I know, you've made your decision and you've told him and all that, but I doubt he'd mind if you changed your mind."

"I won't."

"You're an idiot, Georgie, you know that?"

"I was an idiot to have I started any of this."

"Aww, come on," Fred teased, "You've been making a lonely little snot rag happy. Think of it as community service."

"I'm really going to smack you, one of these days, Fred, I bloody am."

It was a sign of how highly strung he was, that George was waving a menacing finger under his twin's nose. Fred grabbed the hand and forced it out of the way, shaking his head.

"If he likes you as much as you like him and you're going to stay friends anyway, it'll be exactly the same when we get out of here as it would have been if you'd just cut your losses and took the opportunity for a reliable shag - "

"That's just the Friends with Benefits thing, isn't it? Fuck Buddies. I'm not doing that to him."

"It's not 'Fuck Buddies' if you aren't seeing other people and you don't want to be. And it's really not if you feel the way about him that you blatantly do, knob head. You obviously care about the little ferret - "

"I cared about Ollie, too."

Fred gave another sigh and moved a bit nearer, rubbing his brother's shoulder, "Yeah, I know; you still do. You two might've pretended to each other that it was all a great lark, and all that, but I'm not that gullible. If he'd've asked you to go official you wouldn't have thought twice about it. And the thing is, Georgie, now you've got this bloody stupid idea in your head that that's all there is. And it's not. You can get together with someone you're mates with and it still be proper."

"Like you and Gina, I suppose?" George asked bitterly. "Is that what she is, a reliable shag?"

Fred felt himself blush slightly and gave a wry, superior smile, "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

"That's alright, you're no bloody gentleman."

"Put your claws away, Bagpuss, I'm trying to lecture you."

"I don't want to be lectured! Least of all by you."

"Tough. Because I'm going to be the one who has to pick up the pieces when he takes you up on the idea of him going off with the plummy-mouthed little bugger from Ravenclaw. You're a real bloody pain in the arse when you're miserable, I'll have you know."

"Then don't bother," George snapped starting to pull away.

"Don't be a sap. You know I'm going to be there no matter what - you're my likkle baby bruv, aren't you, Georgie?" he pinched his twin's cheek for good measure, and received a sharp and actually quite painful slap across the wrist. "Ow! You vicious bugger! That's what I get for giving you advice, is it?"

"No, that's what you get for being clever."

"Fine, but I'm telling you, 'Pumpkin', that you're going to be just as miserable about this when you leave here as you would if you made the most of it and got your end away." George glared and opened his mouth to protest, so Fred thought it advisable to add, "Or have some big, committed monomogamous relationship."

"Monogamous."

"Yeah, I alright... that might've been a syllable too many, you win, well done, Hermione. But the fact still is, that you're ruining a perfectly good friendship - because it's never going back to normal after this, I can tell you that for nothing - making your beloved little Snowflake all miserable so he cries some colour into those pasty, white chops of his and what for? The Right Thing that, let's face it, really isn't, is it?"

"People move on, though, don't they? Once he starts seeing Wil - "

"If he's that interested in Rider-Digby why'd he leg it at the first opportunity, last night, eh? Answer me that!"

George sighed and rubbed his face; "Dunno," he mumbled.

"God, I should slap some sense into you, sometimes, George, I really bleeding should."

"You could try, but I'd slap you straight back."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

George shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, "I dunno. Just leave it, I suppose... I've got stuff to think about, now..."

"You think too much, that's your problem."

"You know what?" he said, looking him in the eye with a slightly mournful dullness, "I kissed him goodbye last night."

Fred frowned a little and shrugged, "Yeah, I thought that's what this whole thing was about..."

"No, after that - after it was, er... decided that I should go - I stood in the doorway and I thought that that was that, y'know? It was all buggered, now, anyway and he'd never want to speak to me again, so I kissed him goodbye. Just quickly... not like, y'know..."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it."

"And then I came back up here and went to the dorm and I just thought about it until it was light - "

"George, have you slept at all?"

"What? Oh... yeah, yeah, I'm fine... But I was saying that I just stayed up there thinking about how much of a prat I'd made myself look and ended up telling myself it was all for the best anyway. I still think it's probably true, but I was totally gutted that he'd pushed me away and I don't want to go through that any more. It's fucking horrible."

"Oh really?" Fred asked, raising his eyebrows, "You should spare a thought or two for your Snowflake, then, because that's exactly what you've just done to him."

For a moment, George stared at him, the expression on his face unreadable even to his twin. And then, without another word, he turned and walked inside.