Coyote Morning

O woman,
When I see your wild shock of hair
Cascading over the pillow,
And I hear the soft seesaw hum
Of your sleeping,
I wonder
Who you really are,
And who I really am,
And... what happened last night after I blacked out?
- Tom Lehrer

1. Coyote morning

George's head was killing him. Killing him. He stifled a groan, realizing it was far worse than any morning he'd been through in the last few months. Merlin, could he not have taken some potion...

He started to turn over and froze. There was someone beside him.

Oh, good. He'd pulled last night. Not a dead loss, then. He briefly tried to remember before giving it up as a bad job. Opening his eyes seemed unwise at the moment, but he turned to the body next to him in the bed, hoping this wouldn't be one of those "Coyote Mornings", as Lee's American cousin Neil called them; the ones where you'd rather chew your own arm off than wake the eyesore sleeping on it.

He finally took a deep breath and opened his eyes, coming face to dreadlocks with his bed companion.

Dreadlocks.

Oh fuck.

Dimly last night came back to him. The Pony. The Sisters. Lee. Angelina. He clenched his eyes shut.

Unless there was a huge cultural shift going on and the wizarding population was suddenly really into dreadlocks, he was in bed with either Angelina or Lee.

Oh God.

He was never going to drink again. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Should he maybe think about who he would rather have beside him?

Let's see. Angelina. Twin's ex-girlfriend. Oh, no, there was nothing awkward about that. Nothing that would make his skin crawl a little, feeling like he'd finally had one of those threesomes that drunk birds - and a few blokes - had proposed to him and Fred countless times, except for the tiny detail of one of the threesome being very much dead. Nothing at all skin-crawling about ending up in bed with your dead twin's ex, wondering if she'd been pretending you were him while you were inside her. Hoping she hadn't gasped the wrong name at an awkward moment. Hoping you weren't somehow trying to keep in touch with the dead half of your soul by fucking the same girl he'd fucked, and wondering if he'd fucked her the same way.

Too early and too hung over for that kind of thinking, his brain skittered away from Angelina frantically.

Lee, then.

Right. Best mate. Male best mate, not that George hadn't had one or two or... a few dozen... fantasies about other boys, and experimented accordingly - with Oliver and with Lee, as a matter of fact - but of all people to experiment with now: the one person who'd been able to be near him without causing him acute pain, the one person who'd known how to not make him feel like Fred was either completely erased from his life or far too painfully present, the one person he could turn to. If they'd ended up in bed... oh, God. This was Lee. Best mate. What had happened? Had Lee been drunk too? What the fuck had they done?

Come to think of it, Angelina wouldn't be so bad. They could just be awkward for a few minutes and then avoid each other with all their might for a few months.

His bed companion sighed and George groaned inwardly. Unless Angelina had undergone some weird hormone treatment, that was pitched far too low for her.

Lee, then.

George kept his eyes closed.

"George, I know you're awake," said Lee.

George sighed and opened his eyes, looking across the room and flinching at his purple-and-aqua animated lightning-bolt wallpaper, and wondering if one of these mornings it would actually kill him.

"I think maybe we'd better talk about this," said Lee gently.

George rolled over and put a pillow over his head. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?" asked Lee, an odd note to his voice.

"Oh God."

"Yeah." Lee sat up. "I was hoping this wouldn't happen..."

George wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. No such luck. Fuck, fuck, fucking hell. "Lee, I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Listen, erm, don't worry, I didn't... I mean, we didn't really - I could see you were pretty drunk, so... other than - well, maybe I shouldn't say-"

"Fuck, what the hell did we do?" George said, and as if he wasn't already been feeling pathetic enough, that came out as a wail.

Lee patted his shoulder gently. "Sit up. I've got Pepper-Up by the side of the bed."

George reluctantly sat up, not able to meet Lee's eyes, taking the Pepper-Up from him and downing it in one gulp.

"Urgh."

"Yeah." Lee touched his arm in concern. "Look, it's all right, I mean, when you said... I didn't realize how you-"

"What the hell did I say?" George asked, horrified.

"Well, you were pretty drunk..." Lee said, and gave his shoulder a light squeeze. "And I'm sure that thing with the feather was just a joke."

George blinked. "Feather?" he said weakly.

"I'll explain to Ron, too. Don't worry about that part-"

"Ron?"

Lee cleared his throat. "Well, he didn't mean to walk in on-"

"Oh fuck oh God oh fuck I'm the biggest berk in the history of the world." George buried his head under the pillow again.

"I sort of realised that you didn't really... though I do kind of wish you remembered the Muggle poem you read me."

"Poem?" George sat bolt up again, gaping at Lee.

"I didn't even know you liked Keats."

George blinked. "I don't even know who-" he suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Lee."

Lee blinked at him.

"You absolute shit."

Lee's eyebrows went up. "Beg pardon?"

"You are so fucking dead." George lifted the covers, peeking underneath. Underpants still on. On both of them. He looked up at Lee, whose innocent expression was beginning to crack.

"So completely dead."

Lee's mouth quirked up at the corner. "You don't remember, then. 'Oh my mistresses' eyes are nothing like the moon-'"

"That's Shakespeare, you utter moron and shit," George said, as Lee started to laugh. "You miserable arsewipe." He clouted Lee across the head, overwhelming relief and utter indignation flooding through him in equal measure. "Stupid, sadistic little-"

Lee laughed helplessly, falling back on the bed and covering his head as George pummeled him with the pillow.

"Look, I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist. Tell me you wouldn't have done the exact same thing."

George glared at him - though, really, Lee did have a point.

"We do need to talk, though."

"Sod off," George said, clambering out of bed.

"George," said Lee.

"What?"

Lee paused. "You don't think it's a little worrying, how much you were drinking?"

"What? So I had a few. It's the weekend."

"D'you black out regularly, still?"

George shrugged uncomfortably and started to dig through a tottering pile of dirty linen at the foot of his bed. "Not that much." He paused. "Not any more."

"Still about once a week, though," Lee said.

"Don't, all right?" George said lightly, pulling on a pair of green trousers clean enough to not yet stand up on their own. "Mum already does this quite well."

Lee shook his head grimly. "Not as well as she would if she knew how much you're drinking. And doing... this," Lee gestured at the two of them in the bed.

George rolled his eyes. "D'you know, everyone but you keeps complimenting me on being ever so strong and well-adjusted."

"George. You seriously thought you'd been so pissed last night that you got into bed with me, and didn't remember it. If you were yourself, you would've seen through it immediately."

George pulled on a shirt, feeling much better now that the banshee band in his head was a little quieter. Thank Merlin for Pepper-Up. "Why should I have been suspicious?" he said, his voice muffled by the shirt. "Maybe I just assumed we hadn't been able to pull birds worthy of our devilishly handsome looks, and decided to ease our mutual disappointment." He pulled the shirt down and grinned at Lee.

Lee sighed and climbed out of bed as well. He passed George on the way to the bathroom, and if he looked disappointed, George tried to tell himself it didn't matter.

Except it did. "What?" he said defensively.

"Nothing," said Lee quietly. "Never mind, forget I said anything."

Argh. He didn't need Lee to get angry at him, or be disappointed in him. Lee was one of the only constants in his life. He put out a hand and stopped Lee as he went through the door.

"No, yeah, you're right, I probably shouldn't drink that much," he said contritely. "Thanks for the reminder. I won't do it again any time soon."

Lee didn't look at all reassured.

2. Another suitcase in another hall

George felt his head gingerly, and a little guiltily. Totally aside from his sort-of promise to Lee, it really had been a bit soon after the last bender to have gone out so quickly; he hadn't done this back-to-back in a while. But it was only natural and it didn't really count, he told himself. After all, he hadn't pulled the other night, which had been the whole point of the exercise. And he had been very responsible this time. He made sure he didn't get too drunk, and the girl he ended up with was very nice.

Nice. He blinked that word away in distaste, then chuckled at himself.

She was nice, yes. There was nothing wrong with nice. Nothing wrong with Audrey - Adrienne - whatever her name had been. Fun girl, roommate gone for the weekend, bit of a screamer, all worked out fairly well. He hoped he hadn't got her name wrong at the wrong time, but if he had, she didn't seem to mind.

He wondered briefly if he should send her flowers or chocolate, but something told him not to. That wasn't really appropriate unless you wanted to pursue something permanent, and George most definitely didn't.

Joke products were good though. He sent them to girls who'd been fun and seemed unlikely to start stalking him in search of something long-term. That was probably the reason he was still on speaking terms with most of the young witches around Diagon, despite the fact that he'd been steadily working his way through their ranks for the last two years.

She'd mentioned working at the Ministry, and often wishing she could fall asleep during dull meetings. All right, then. He'd send her an Open-Eye Napping Nougat tomorrow.

3. I'm not an owl

George sighed and looked over the shop. It had been a good day, mostly, but the week had been long and there had been some trouble with a shipment from Peru and he was still off-kilter from last Saturday morning with Lee.

And he really, really wanted to go out again. Too many thoughts, too many itches to scratch, too many troublesome images of Lee in his bed. And Lee taking the piss out of him while in his bed.

He glanced over at Hermione, who was animatedly demonstrating Galumphing Galoshes to a little girl, and smiled. Her new Ministry position was prestigious but didn't pay much, she and Ron were saving for their wedding, and George had temporarily lost a shop assistant to Bubotuber Pus, so Ron had asked if she could fill in. And it was working out well, which was rather amusing. Who would've thought Hermione'd be a decent salesperson - especially a salesperson of items that were somewhat lacking in seriousness. But she really was, and she had a special flair for products that were clever and didn't involve pain or humiliation.

He should probably put together a brand of items like that, he mused. A Hermione Line. Why not? They - he had an Adult line, a Dark Arts Defence line, Muggle line, WonderWitch line... why not a Dead Serious line?

He chewed on his lip. Damn, he had no idea if the idea was brilliant or harebrained. Fred would've been able to help him with that. Times like these he sometimes played gingerly with the idea of asking Fred-in-his-head, though it got a bit depressing sometimes. Depended on the day.

Right now, it would probably depress him. What with the thing with Lee, anyway.

"Mr. Weasley! I have a complaint in my mouth!"

George turned to see a fuming middle-aged wizard bear down on him and Hermione.

"Beg pardon?" asked George.

"There was a party in my mouth-" the man began, then broke off, pressing his lips together.

George suppressed a snigger. "That's usually how it happens," he said, and leaned a little closer to him, pitching his voice low. "Would you like to do this in private?" he asked, indicating the office.

"Yes. Privately in my mouth," said the wizard. George led him past a bemused Hermione, closing the door behind them.

"I take it somebody slipped you an Oral Fixation."

"Yes." The man took a deep breath. "Do you get a lot of these in my mouth?"

"A fair few," George said sympathetically. "And I take it you don't have an antidote?"

"If I had an antidote in my mouth, I wouldn't be here with a complaint in my mouth, would I?" asked the irate customer.

"I am very sorry, sir. We do include strict instructions not to give it out without the antidote, which is included in the package. Here, I've got some-" George deftly poured a thimbleful of a rather noxious and slimy-looking orange substance, which the man swallowed in one gulp. Predictably enough, he didn't want to stay and chat, though he did take the Galleon For Good Sports voucher George offered him.

"What was that?" asked Hermione after the man had left.

"It's a prank. It makes you tack on 'in my mouth' to the end of almost every sentence you say."

"That could become embarrassing."

George shrugged. "He's lucky he didn't get the one that tacks on 'in my pants.'"

"Hermione Granger, fancy meeting you here," said Lee, entering the shop.

"Hello Lee," Hermione said, smiling. She checked her watch. "Oh! Almost closing time," she said, unbuttoning her magenta Wheezes robes.

"Excuse me, aren't you supposed to be working your way into the upper echelons of the Ministry? Have you grown tired of it already?"

"Ha ha," said Hermione, hanging the robes up on their peg beside the door. "You know I'm doing this for the money."

"And how's the wedding planning coming along?" Lee asked her with a grin.

"It's coming. It'd come a lot faster if Ron didn't want to use orange for decorations. I refuse to get married under an orange canopy, especially one with the Cannons logo embroidered on it." She shrugged into her street robes and straightened them. "Well. I'll be going, then," said Hermione, and gave Lee a significant look as she headed for the door.

"What was that about?" asked George, closing up.

Lee gazed at him for a moment. "Your mum and Hermione were talking to me about you."

George chuckled and went to the back room for restocking.

"They're worried," Lee said, following him.

"Not this again. Please?"

Lee sighed.

George put up his hands in mock surrender. "OK, no, never mind, you're right. They'll pester you forever if you don't. Go ahead then. Get it over with." He turned to the cauldron currently bubbling a faint lemony scent into the air, and waved his wand at a line of empty bottles on the counter, bringing them next to the cauldron.

Lee nodded. "They're both very proud of you," he began dutifully, as George started to bottle Screaming Vikings. "Everyone's very proud of you. You've adjusted so well and you're such a strong person. But you work too hard, you don't come home often enough, they're worried that you've never let yourself properly mourn, and wouldn't it be nice for you to meet some nice witch and settle down with her."

George nodded. "I'm glad they're proud of me," he replied, carefully corking a bottle and sending it to a crate on a top shelf. "But I've always worked hard, I will do my best to go home more often, I did mourn, thanks for worrying about me Mum and Hermione, I love you too, hugs and kisses you're the best mum and soon-to-be-sister-in-law ever." He corked another bottle.

"And the witches?" Lee asked.

"I have met a lot of very nice witches. It's part of the mourning process, you see. Best part," he added with a grin.

"I'll maybe neglect to pass on that part, if you don't mind," Lee chuckled. "I think they're a bit worried about the number of witches, to be honest." He paused to wave his wand at a bottle with a wobbly cork about to pop off, and re-corked it before it burst into operatic shrieks. "And they may have a point."

George raised an eyebrow at him. "You know, most blokes would say I'm living a charmed life. Different pretty girl in my bed whenever I want. What's wrong with that?" Lee shook his head. "Seriously, if Fred was still alive, would anybody feel sorry for a bloke who gets lucky as often as I do? I'm busy, got a shop I love, plenty of friends, and when I get the urge I go down to The Winsome Witch and get a girl. What's wrong with that?"

Lee sighed. "Nothing. Forget I said anything."

George suddenly had an image of waking up with Lee. "Already forgotten," he said lightly, and sent the last bottle up to the crate on the top shelf.

4. Paint the town Weasley red

It was the end of the day and George was bloody knackered, and desperately needing to get laid. It was an almost physical compulsion. Get out, pick up, drink, get drunk, forget.

Not that Lee was right, at all. It was just that the girl he'd met the other day had been one of the clingy types, the types who weren't put off by his up-front stating of his limits. The kind who heard, "I'm not looking for anything serious... you free tonight?" and looked at the way he'd gone through girls in the last two years - and seriously, if there was a girl in wizarding London who didn't know he was a bit of a bed hopper, he was doing something wrong - and wanted to Be There For Him.

"It must have been so hard, losing your twin," she'd said softly this morning, at his shop.

"Yeah, sure," he'd said, then smiled at her. "I've got to have enough fun for both of us. Pretty sure that's what Fred would've wanted." And if he'd made that joke once, he'd made it a thousand times.

She'd smiled back, but hadn't listened to the subtle brush-off. Or the progressively less subtle brush-offs as the conversation had continued. He'd finally had to fake a trip to Gringotts to shake her.

"He did what?" Lee was asking Ron, sniggering, as George opened the shop door again.

"Serious, mate - ah, you're back," said Ron with a smirk. "The big scary girl's gone now. It's safe."

George aimed a slap at the back of Ron's head. "Not funny."

"So was she here to extol the virtues of your bed performance?"

Ron laughed and George made a sour face. "No. Relationship talk," said George.

"Ah."

"You know, it might not be that bad an idea," said Ron, from the lofty position of a man who'd been in a Relationship for two whole years.

George grimaced. "Not that bad an idea, to have to sit and listen to a girl whinge on and on about her job or her mother or her ill-fitting robes? No thanks."

"That's not all girls do, you know," said Ron.

"Really?" George blinked at him and put on an exaggeratedly attentive look. "You mean they do other things, too? What other things? What? What?!"

Ron blushed a bit. "Prat."

Now George looked suspicious and disapproving. "What a minute, you haven't done any of these 'other' things with girls, have you Ron? Because I might have to tell Mum."

Ron rolled his eyes. "I just meant, a girlfriend can... help. Not just... in that way. Hermione's been good. She helped me a lot, especially after... after the war."

George chuckled humourlessly. "Ah, yes, especially after the war. What a novel idea. It's not like every single girl who got clingy after a one-nighter hasn't suggested it." He shook his head. "You know, I don't actually need a kind, caring girl to help me through this deep, deep tragedy. Of course I miss Fred, but d'you think he would've wanted me to waste the life I've got weeping over him all day long? Life's too short for that." He pulled on his cloak. "So. Ron, I'm assuming you've got your own 'not that bad an idea' waiting for you at home?" Ron nodded. "Right. Lee, coming with me?"

"Where are we going?"

"Muggle pub." He waved his wand around, locking the place for the night.

"You're joking."

"Would I joke? Yes, I would. But I'm actually not joking this time. Muggle places are great - totally different music, the drinks don't sing or explode-"

"-you haven't already worked your way through the entire Muggle female population so you don't have to worry about which ones might remember you..."

"Oi, they all remember me, mate," said George with a smirk. Lee laughed and followed him out the door.

The pub was pretty bizarre, but in a good way. The girls were nice, the music far too loud even for George but he and Lee had protection - seriously, could anyone spend more than an hour or so at Wheezes, let alone work there or live above it, without auditory protection? - and it provided a complete break from the wizarding world.

They'd been there for about an hour or so and George was starting to get a little impatient when he finally scored. The girl seemed thick as a plank, but eager, pretty, breathless, and looking for Mr. Right Now.

Excellent.

He glanced over at Lee, who was politely entertaining a rather stern-looking young woman, and gave him a small signal. Lee's gaze went a bit blank before he silently toasted George and turned back to his date with renewed attention.

Yeah, this had been a good idea. Muggle girls were definitely something different. He still felt a little let down, though; different music and environment aside, this was still a bit of same-old. Bit boring.

He apologized to the rather fit bloke he'd just bumped into, glancing over him curiously as he went past, momentarily losing Ms Right Now but relocating her quickly enough. George wondered briefly what it would be like to ditch her and follow the nice-looking bloke.

He immediately headed off that thought, as he'd always headed off any thoughts like it in the last several years, for too many reasons he really didn't want to explore. But it was a little more difficult to set aside tonight for some reason; who knew why.

Well, actually, he knew why. It was that stupid morning he'd woken up with Lee in his bed. It seemed like ever since that day, he'd been plagued with a particularly persistent case of bi-curiosity on the brain.

He suddenly wondered what Lee would think if he did pick up a bloke instead.

Probably wouldn't ask him.

5. You Are Cordially Invited

"I love him, George," said Angelina. "And I'm happy with him. I really am."

"Well he'd better treat you proper, is all I have to say," George said, smiling at her.

"He will." She smiled back.

George put a hand on her shoulder, growing serious for a moment. "I mean it. He ever hurts you, you come and tell me and nobody will ever find his body. Got it?"

"Got it," said Angelina. She blinked away sudden tears.

"Have you told anyone else?" asked George, politely looking away from her as she got herself back together.

"No." She sniffled briefly. "I thought you should know. First, I mean."

"Thanks," he said, giving her a hug, and she hugged him back hard, then pulled away, looking for all the world like she wanted to say more. "Well, I should get back to work," he said cheerfully, putting her off. "Got a huge shipment of Puffs coming in early tomorrow morning." She gave him a watery smile and left.

George walked into the lab and sat down at a worktable, putting his head in his hands.

Angelina was getting married. To a man she'd met three months ago.

George pressed his lips together. There was absolutely no need to feel anything other than happy for her. She'd had a tough time after Fred died, and Fred would've wanted her to be happy, and if this David - Darren - Derek - whatever-his-name-was - could give her that, that was wonderful.

Except Fred was disappearing, bit by bit, day by day.

George started as a potion suddenly bubbled up alarmingly right next to him, and he hastily tossed his wands into the nearest shielded bin. He always carried both his and Fred's wands, and it helped somewhat with the more intricate spells, but it was dangerous when he was upset.

Upset. That didn't begin to cover it.

He needed out. The shop felt suddenly claustrophobic, like a tomb or a prison and he needed, needed, to break free of it and forget... everything.

He quickly exited the lab and locked up the shop, thanking Merlin the other staff had already left for the night. He soon found himself at a Muggle pub, the same one he'd taken Lee to the other night. He walked in, scanning around, absorbing the music, the atmosphere, the people, desperate for escape. Release. Oblivion.

This place wouldn't be enough for that, he realized. The same tired old pick-ups, giggles, simpers, all of it, were suddenly galling. His brother's girlfriend, the only girl Fred had ever loved, was getting married to someone else - someone who had never even met Fred - and George didn't want to do the same old thing to forget in the same old way.

He paused for a few minutes, turned on his heel and went to the nearest Muggle gay bar.

This was a bit more like it. The sensuality of the place was shocking, and he swallowed hard as the beat got to him. It was unnerving, eyes raking over him in frank appraisal, but it was also... intriguing. New. Dangerous.

Perfect.

Some drinks later - none of which he'd had to pay for - his mouth was being devoured by a rather large bloke and this, this was exactly what he'd needed. George couldn't really think while the man pulled him close and plunged his tongue deep into his mouth, but the scents and sights and textures weren't disgusting or bizarre, they were masculine and strong and oh, shit, maybe he really ought to have been doing this all along. It made girls seem rather like Butterbeer compared to Firewhisky.

He didn't go home with the man, of course. Just did a bit of rubbing in the back hall. The man asked him something like First time? and George gratefully latched on to that. The man was amused, but willing to respect George's limits. And it was probably a good idea to only do this exploring here, because some of these blokes could've torn him apart with their bare hands if George hadn't had his wand with him.

He made two mental notes: definitely come back, and don't drink too much when you do.

6. It's fun to stay at the YMCA

At the oddest moments, he found himself thinking of the men he met. The slightly manic one with no apparent gag reflex whatsoever, who'd sucked him off under the bar last week. The gangly Irish one who'd asked to be fucked to the tune of a song that sounded weirdly similar to the Odd Brothers' Hung Like a Hippogriff, and become a little shirty when George politely declined both song and fuck.

The one who'd actually tried to force himself on George. That one had been bloody hysterical. George had had a moment of incredulous indignation when the bloke laughed off George's polite rebuff and pushed him into a cubicle, turned him around, and tried to pull down his trousers, and it lasted for about five seconds before the bastard suddenly shrieked as George cast Sectumsempra right where it would do the most good.

He'd had to explain it all to the Magical Reversal Squad he'd called as the man screamed in horror. It was a good thing they'd been able to keep it hushed; the head of the Squad was right, the story wouldn't have done much good for his reputation, or for Wheezes. And although George sometimes felt like he couldn't care less about either one these days, the worry and pity from his family and friends would've been bloody endless.

No harm done, though. Except to the would-be toilet violator, who'd probably forced himself plenty of times on defenceless Muggle men. George took grim satisfaction in the assurance from the head of the squad that that particular Muggle would never commit that particular crime ever again. Or commit anything else with his cock, for that matter.

7. Guardian Avenging Angel

"What the FUCK are you doing here?" shouted Lee, and the rather satisfying grope George was enjoying with the fit blond bloke he'd just picked up was unceremoniously cut short as Lee pulled him away from George. For a few moments George literally couldn't place Lee, what with the disorientation and the drinks he'd consumed.

"Lee? The hell are you doing here?" he asked stupidly.

Lee looked like he was about to explode. "What the hell are you doing here, you miserable arsewipe?" he demanded, stabbing George's chest with his finger at the word 'you'.

"'Scuse me, think we were about to fuck," said the blond fellow irately, tapping Lee on the back.

"No, you weren't," Lee shot back without bothering to turn around. "Fuck off."

"Excuse me, I really think we were."

George hesitated for a moment. "Actually, we weren't," he told Blondie. Blondie looked outraged. "Not being a tease, mate," he said apologetically. "I would've worked it into the conversation in the next minute or so, honest."

The man's eyebrows went up. "Well I'm all for working it in," he leered, "but not conversation." Lee turned around and just about growled in fury.

George shook his head, putting a hand on Lee, who looked like he might very well punch Blondie. "Listen, no, I think I'd better deal with my friend," he said. "Don't worry, you're not missing much - we wouldn't have been fucking, just wanking each other in the back hall."

Blondie blinked. "Oh. All right then. I can wait a bit, are you sure you don't want to-"

"No, that's all right," said George, now firmly turning Lee around and starting to push him out of the pub. Halfway through the crowd Lee shrugged him off and went ahead under his own steam, and George, too befuddled to follow quickly enough, lost him. He ran outside, cursing the darkness and the passing crowds on the street.

"Bloody hell - Lee!"

Nothing. He called out again. "Lee! Where the fuck are you?"

He stood there for a minute, his mind a perfect whirling blank of have to get to Lee fuck it Lee where the hell did you go, before inspiration hit him and he got out his old DA Galleon, staring at it and wondering if he still remembered how to work the location charm that he and Fred and Lee had cast onto their coins during the war.

He concentrated on the coin, then Apparated, thanking Godric he'd had a lot of practice at drunk Apparition in the last few years and hoping he didn't Splinch himself into St. Mungo's again, because really, three times in one year was enough and they said they'd take away his license if it happened again.

8. Lee. What the fuck?

"Lee. What the fuck?" George demanded, striding up to Lee, who looked gobsmacked to see him, his hand stopped in mid-motion opening the door of the Leaky.

"How did you-"

"DA Galleon," said George shortly. "What the fuck was that all about?"

Lee pressed his lips together.

"What the - are you angry at me? Because I was with a bloke instead of a bird? What the hell, do you have a problem with-" and he probably should not have followed Lee, because right now the thought that Lee might actually be revolted by what George had been doing was insupportable. And he might have worried about what Lee would say if he found out George played for the other side, but he'd never imagined this level of anger and disgust. "Because if you're - if you've got a problem with two blokes then you'd better look at yourself, because-"

"You know I don't!" snapped Lee. "I don't give a toss what two men do together. Blokes, birds, consenting banshees, I don't care! It's just - you were - to find you there, with, with-"

"Hang on, what were you doing there?" George asked suddenly. Bugger this, he really shouldn't be having this conversation with Lee right now. He was much too drunk, his thoughts too sluggish.

Lee glared at him. "I'm your best friend, George! Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know what you'd think!"

"After what you and I did?" Lee said angrily.

George's eyebrows went up. "Once! As a fucking joke! You never mentioned it again and I thought... why were you there? At the pub?"

Lee looked away, jaw set and arms crossed.

"Bit of hypocrisy, don't you think?" George asked. "You never said a word to me either. Best mate, right?"

"I'd never been there before," Lee shot back. "I've never done anything with another bloke, except, except you know, that time-" images of darkness and heat and blessed respite from worry and tension - "I've never done anything else. Probably wouldn't have this time. You look like you know your way around the place."

George frowned. "What's wrong with that? And why wouldn't you have done anything else? Why'd you go in there?"

"Because I... I just wondered..."

"You wondered," George repeated. "Wondered about what? If you liked boys? So why not try it out?"

"Because I didn't want to just go in there and fuck some nameless bloke out of curiosity." Lee glared at him. "I never did because I wouldn't want to do anything like that with somebody I didn't care about a lot more." He pressed his lips together and turned away. "I'm not you, right?"

"I haven't fucked any nameless blokes," George protested. And why did that sting so much, coming from Lee, despite endless harmless ribbing from him about the almost nameless horde of girls who'd graced George's bed in the last two years?

Why did it actually hurt, this time?

"What the hell was that, then?" asked Lee. "What I saw you doing in there?"

"You heard me, we weren't going to - just maybe wank each other, or maybe a blow job, but-"

"You've had blow jobs from them?"

"It's not that different from girls," George shrugged dismissively.

"Ever given one?"

"Yeah." God, he had no idea why, but he was suddenly embarrassed. Damn Lee. "There's nothing wrong with that," he said defensively.

"Well, that's a hell of a lot farther than dropping in to see the place. I'm your best mate, George," Lee repeated, his voice low.

"Yeah," George said quietly. Wanting so much to talk to Lee, be honest with him, explain why he hadn't said anything, but not able to. He and Lee gazed at each other for a moment, then George turned around and walked away.

9. Curiosity killed the Kneazle

George's steps slowed down as he went past Dorothy's Coven three days later. Friday night, busy time, and this was the only pub on Diagon that he'd never visited. No desire to get into a difficult situation that he couldn't handle on his own, no desire to be seen going in or out of it by anyone in the wizarding world who might tell anyone in his family or circle of friends...

That last didn't matter, though, he realized. He didn't particularly care who in his family found out he liked blokes. Never really had. It hadn't been that that made him not pursue this particular interest; Lee had been the most important person he wanted to keep the secret from, for so many reasons, and now Lee knew and Lee didn't have a problem with it. In fact, Lee'd been to a gay pub himself. "I just wondered," my arse.

Right. Standing outside Dorothy's, ruminating, was just silly. It was only a pub. He'd go in, check it out, then go to the Muggle places he was used to.

George walked in to Dorothy's Coven. And froze.

There was Lee. Near a pretty bloke with long dark hair, who had pulled him close and was whispering in his ear. Lee's eyes were closed and he was leaning back against the wall, and his lips parted slightly and moved into a small smile.

Didn't want to go further than just looking, did he? What the hell was up with this, then? At a wizarding pub, too, where he'd be at the mercy of whoever... George came closer, staying in the shadows of the bar, telling himself he was only watching out for his friend, who might be a hypocrite and confused but didn't deserve to be hurt, and even though the bloke whispering into his ear might look a little fey, who knew, really, what he could be like in a place like this?

"You want it?" the stranger was asking Lee in a surprisingly deep voice as George drew closer to them, staying on the other side of a column, grateful for the crowd and dim lighting.

"Yeah," said Lee, his voice low.

The man smirked. "Say it, then," he said mockingly.

"I want it."

"Slut," he said in an almost-growl. "You're going to love this." He murmured and Lee's hands were suddenly bound before him and George nearly panicked before the man said, in a very, very different tone, "You know you just have to say the word to stop, right?"

"Yeah," said Lee, annoyed. "I know."

The stranger chuckled. "You know, we'd really be more comfortable in the back room," he said, one foot nudging Lee's feet apart slightly, his tone back to dark-seductive.

George drew in his breath as Lee hesitated, then shook his head. "No, I'd prefer to stay out here."

The man moved closer, rubbing his face along Lee's. "Slut. You want everyone to watch us, do you?" he said.

"I don't think anyone's paying attention but-" Lee broke off in a yelp as the man bit his ear.

"Don't argue with me," he said. "Ever had anyone watch you before?"

"Once," breathed Lee, and George's skin prickled at the tone of his voice. "Long time ago."

"Did he come from watching you?"

"Not sure," Lee whispered. "But I did." George shivered.

"Mmm," purred the stranger, then claimed Lee's mouth in a rough kiss.

George swallowed hard, remembering Lee's dark eyes on his, Lee watching him, remembering Lee's body straining for release, Lee coming all over himself; remembered the wrongness of having been so fucking turned on by it that he'd thought about it for months afterwards. Thought about Lee, his mate, who was supposed to be almost as much of a brother to him as Fred, except George sure as shit didn't sit around getting hot and bothered by the image of Fred wanking.

"That's all you ever did with him? Watched him?" the man asked, moving his hands down Lee's back to his waist, then moving one hand to the front of his trousers. George drew in his breath, clenching his fists.

"No..." breathed Lee. "Hand jobs. Once."

"With an audience."

Lee shook his head. "Just us," he said, arching into the man's hand, first moving slowly and then bucking as the man's grip grew firmer. Just us. In the dark, on a very bad day, and George could almost feel Lee's hand on him again, Lee's breath warm on his face, the silky feel of Lee's hot hard length in George's hand, as his body responded the same way it had that day.

"You want this, then? Because I'm going to give it to you," the dark-haired man said. "What do you want me to do?"

"Get me off, I don't care how," Lee said thickly. Lee's hand had been warm, hesitant at first, then growing firmer and surer and making George desperate for release, even as he brought Lee along with him. George almost swayed forward, catching himself on the column between them.

The stranger ran lips down Lee's neck and bit him lightly, then lifted Lee's hands and pinned them to the wall behind them. Lee was immobile, eyes closed, completely trusting the man, who opened the flies on both of their trousers and reached in, one thigh between Lee's, riding Lee's leg.

"Tell me," he said. "Tell me what you want me to do to your cock."

"I want you to touch it," said Lee faintly, and George was having a time deciding whether he wanted to hex the stranger or just pull him out of the way and take his place. He swallowed again, trying to will his body to stop responding to what was happening before him.

The man touched Lee's cock with one finger, and stopped there, smirking as Lee opened his eyes, and Lee's desperate hunger for more was so strong that George could almost taste it.

"More than that," said Lee. He closed his eyes again. "Touch it, circle it with your hand, yeah, like that, close your fingers around it, fuck, yeah." George suppressed a moan at Lee's words, at the way Lee's voice was hitching up as he began bucking into the man's grip again, Lee's bound hands clenching and unclenching as the man stroked him and thrust against Lee's leg and bit the side of his neck.

"Faster," Lee moaned, and then cried out, and George couldn't tell whether it was because the hand on him sped up or because the man had just bitten the side of his neck hard enough to leave a mark, even against Lee's dark skin. "Harder, come on," he said, and George pressed the heel of his hand to the front of his trousers, aching for relief.

"You like it rough, then?"

"Yeah. Fuck, yeah, rough, make it hurt. Make it hurt a lot," Lee moaned as the man's teeth clenched on his neck and his hand sped up even more. "Yeah, oh God..." Lee was wincing and almost sobbing with pain now, and George was going to come any minute.

He was supposed to only be watching this for the sake of Lee's safety. He didn't think of Lee this way. He'd worked very bloody hard to never think of Lee this way. His smiling, smirking, witty, laughing best mate, practically the closest thing to a twin he had left; he knew every expression on Lee's face except this one, pained pleasure, because that one time had been in the dark and it wasn't supposed to mean anything-

"Harder, God, I want to still feel this next week - fuck!" Lee broke off, squirming and crying out, his eyes clenched tight. The side of his neck was so abused it was practically bleeding and he'd bitten his lip so hard George could see the blood on his teeth as he panted harshly, shuddering, the other man's hand slowing down as he rutted against Lee and pinched one of Lee's nipples and both of them came, groaning, coating each other's stomachs and the man's hand.

George took a deep, shaking breath, backing away as the man unbound Lee's hands and rearranged their clothing. It looked like they were about to part company, and Lee was glancing at the doorway of the pub like he couldn't wait to go through it. And then they were murmuring goodbyes, and Lee was heading out, and the other man was heading back into the crowd...

George glanced at the door, realizing he'd have to take care of himself before he could walk out of here. Better do it right now, right here, where he could tell himself it was just a reaction to what he'd seen - and not because it was Lee, but because it had been hot as hell and he realized this kind of thing was part of why he had finally started coming to gay bars in the first place. Much as he enjoyed porn that sometimes got rough, he couldn't imagine doing anything like it with any of the witches he'd picked up. Let alone any Muggle women; it'd be unthinkable, they'd be totally defenceless. But a man, a man might be able to make rough feel good without guilt on George's part, and what he'd just seen Lee do was exactly what he'd wanted, but hadn't got around to seeking yet. And he'd just seen Lee come - again - and maybe he could get some wizard here to do this with him - on second thought, no, not a chance, not after the Muggle would-be rapist - but maybe he could go back to that club and get some Muggle to-

He came with a muffled groan, resting his head against the pillar, then cleaned himself up and hastily went home.

10. Seriously, Lee. What the fuck.

George woke the next morning with a serious headache that had nothing to do with alcohol or passing out or anything actually fun. The night before, unimpeded by the barrier of a hangover, rushed obligingly into his head and he felt his stomach sink.

Lee. Dorothy's Coven. The dark-haired man.

He pulled himself out of bed and made himself stick his head into the Floo and call out for Lee's flat, trying to figure out what in Merlin's name he'd say to Lee if he was awake. No answer. He closed his eyes and Apparated straight into Lee's front room.

Lee's flat was empty, his bedroom door open and the bed still made. Which meant Lee hadn't come home last night.

Bugger.

George stared into Lee's room, a hundred different emotions and impulses flooding him, no sense to any of them.

The graveyard near The Burrow. The graveyard was a good place to think. And he desperately needed to, after last night. He needed to sit near Fred's grave, feel Fred's comforting presence about him, figure out what to do about Lee, how to repair things between them. And figure out why they were so wrong to begin with. Figure out why Lee wouldn't talk to George about how he was feeling, and how to explain why George hadn't told Lee what he had been doing, without explaining why he'd done it in the first place.

Nuts to all of that, what he needed more than anything was to figure out how to get Lee to stop putting himself in danger like he had last night, without pissing him off.

He walked into the cemetery and noted with a resigned sigh that there was already someone at Fred's grave. Not that unusual; it wasn't that any of them were obsessed with Fred or anything, it was just that the graveyard was a lovely spot, very conducive to sitting and thinking. Except now that George wanted to actually use it to talk to Fred...

Damn, wasn't that just peachy, he thought as he passed the stones that marked the final resting places of Uncles Bilius and Fabian and Gideon, and Auntie Muriel's sister Mildred. The other person taking advantage of the peace and calm so conducive to the clearing of the mind... was Lee.

George stopped, about to turn back, then thought for a moment. The thing was, he suddenly realized, he didn't need to talk to Fred. What he needed was to talk to Lee. Maybe not about all of what was going on; just about going to wizarding gay pubs and picking up a... was there a male word for a dominatrix? Dominator?

George neared Fred's grave slowly, telling himself to not antagonize Lee.

"What are you doing here?" Lee asked him wearily, looking up.

"What the hell were you doing there?" George asked, and all right, maybe that wasn't a good way to not antagonize someone.

"What?"

"At Dorothy's Coven. Last night?"

Lee's eyebrows shot up. "How did you know-"

"Doesn't matter," said George, bracing himself for an angry accusation or two, but Lee just sat back, looking a bit bemused. And suddenly it was easier to not feel angry. George cleared his throat and sank down, facing him on the other side of Fred's grave. "Look, what you're getting into, it can be... a little dangerous," he said carefully.

Lee snorted. "And hooking up with about a hundred different witches in the last two years isn't?"

George shook his head. "I'm not going to argue this again."

"All right, what about picking up half of queer Muggle London?"

"I haven't done that either," George said patiently. "Look, it's different, mate, all right? Blokes are not the same."

"How different?"

George hesitated. "Look, it... some of the people who go to places like that... they can get a little... too much into what that bloke was doing to you last night."

Lee's face darkened, but he shook his head. "That was - look, if it's between two consenting adults, there's nothing wrong with-"

"Tell that to the Muggle I had to hex a few weeks ago. Wouldn't take no for an answer. Didn't look like he was too concerned with consent."

Lee's eyes widened. "What? What did he - fuck! What did he do? Were you hurt?"

"No, no of course not - I had my wand, hexed him before he actually did anything, called the Magical Reversal Squad. They came and took care of everything. Made bloody sure he'll never try that on anybody else, ever again." He looked away from Lee. "I was lucky I had my wand, mate. I'm sure most of them are perfectly nice people, but play safe, all right?"

Lee gaped at him. "You went back? After that? And you have the gall to tell me to play safe?"

George stared at him. "I went back with a wand. You went into a gay bar, with no experience at all, and picked up a pretty lad with delusions of dominating." He shook his head. "Why are you doing this?"

"Can you hear yourself?" asked Lee bitterly. "You went to Dorothy's Coven too. After some Muggle almost..." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and sighed. "Bloody hell. Now there's more I have to worry about for you."

"I didn't ask you to worry about me!"

Lee glared at him. "Well what the hell am I supposed to do? Your family thinks you're doing just fine except for working too hard and not meeting a nice girl. I see what your life is really like, I see how fast you try to run from coping. And I can't even do anything about it!"

"What does it matter? Why do you care?"

"How blind are you? Why do you think I care?" Lee flung at him. "And what am I supposed to do about - I told you, I've wondered about men for years! But you - what am I supposed to think, you don't think about it, don't do anything about it, and then all of a sudden you're jumping in with both feet and risking yourself and why the hell-"

"How fucking blind are you?" George yelled back. "Why do you think I haven't gone for blokes until now?"

Lee gaped at him.

11. Just how fucking blind are you?

"No, seriously. Just how fucking blind?"

12. Valley of the Shadow

"Let me get this straight," Lee said slowly, a little while later. "You figured out you were queer after thinking about me in various dirty ways for a bloody long time, but you decided during the war that you didn't want to pursue it because there was a war and all, and you decided after Fred died that you didn't want to pursue it because you didn't want to lose me... so you slept with half of witchdom and then moved on to Muggles to run away from your own queerness. And then after I pretended we'd slept together, you finally let your inner shirtlifter out to play and started to work your way through the Muggle gay world. Is that a fair assessment?"

George forced himself not to cringe in embarrassment. "There were other benefits to sleeping with half of witchdom besides avoiding you, you know," he muttered.

"Right. Self-destruction and escape. I know."

"Not just that," George said impatiently.

Lee shook his head. "And you wonder why I worry about you."

George sighed. "I don't want you to. I..." Damn, this was why he hadn't said anything about this for years. Because Lee pitying him was just too much...

"I worry about you because I've worried about you for years," said Lee. "And I care about who you're fucking because I don't like to see you hurting yourself. And because..."

"Because what?" George said, looking up.

"And because... that time, in the cellar. That wasn't just a joke, you know. It wasn't just to get your mind off things."

"What?"

"I wanted to. I'd wanted to, for a while. Years. And even more ever since then."

George blinked, not sure he'd heard right. "You... I thought..."

"You thought it was just the kind of thing I did to people who were tense," Lee shook his head. "If I did I'd have a lot more friends, George. Or get slapped in the face a lot more. The wizarding world's been a pretty tense place for years."

"But I thought... you never mentioned it again."

"Neither did you," Lee pointed out.

"I thought you didn't want me to."

"I thought you were embarrassed about it. I thought you'd only gone along because you weren't thinking quite right, and that you'd thought better of it afterwards. That if I mentioned it you'd... I dunno, punch me or something." He sighed. "And then I couldn't... I didn't want anybody else."

They stared at each other, and then, bizarrely, both started to laugh.

"Hang on, then, can I see if I've got this straight?" asked George. "You decided you were queer for me years and years ago, but never really acted on it because you were afraid I'd push you away, coped with it by becoming some kind of pathetic born-again virgin, and then decided to start shagging blokes when you saw I'd gone there, instead of asking if maybe I wanted to go there with you. Fair assessment?"

Lee frowned. "Well when you put it that way..."

"And you worry about me? Bloody hell, Lee, that's messed up."

Lee sniggered, then sobered. "Would it have been that weird? If we had done anything?"

"No, only... after Fred, I couldn't. I just. You're... you're my best mate, Lee. I couldn't. Nobody else could be there and, and make anything better. I couldn't try something with you and risk... "

"Coward," said Lee.

"Hypocrite," said George.

"You're the one who was in mourning," said Lee quietly. "You still are."

"So are you."

"Not the same way." Lee took a deep breath. "And now?"

"I don't know." George paused, swallowing. "Erm... d'you want to?" he asked, reflecting that he hadn't heard his own voice sound this nervous and uncertain and eager since he was maybe twelve.

Lee looked up and their gazes met and it all felt knife-edged; George couldn't think of anything he wanted more, and Lee probably still had the smell of the bloke who'd got him off last night but who cared about that because Lee was leaning closer and oh, Merlin...

And they'd done this once before, that one time they'd fooled around in the dark, but this, this kiss was so different - then, he'd been on edge for reasons that had nothing to do with Lee because they didn't know why Fred was late to the meeting place, and it had been in the middle of an impromptu hand job - but now, now he was doing it with the full awareness of what they were doing and after years of having trained himself not to even think about it...

Their lips met and it was incredible, the pleasure from something so simple. Lee's lips were a bit cold, and there was stubble there that George had grown used to from snogging Muggle men, and there was that distinctly male scent and feel to him but it was all different because this was Lee, this was his best mate, and their tongues touched and he heard a moan and vaguely wondered if it came from him but who cared, really. This was brilliant, just bloody brilliant, and Lee tasted like life and friendship and love...

They finally broke for air and Lee pulled back a bit, a questioning look in his eyes. Whatever he found in George's eyes seemed to reassure him, as he smiled and glanced around. "Do you think it's a bit weird to have our first kiss here?" he asked.

George chuckled. "Right next to Fred's stone? He'd get a laugh, wouldn't he?"

"Yeah." Lee stood up. He gently touched the gravestone, the solemn dignity of its simple grey shape and plain lettering for Fred's name and dates only slightly diminished when the inscription Helped Defeat You-Know-Who occasionally flickered to read Helped Invent U-No-Poo. "Yeah, he would," Lee said with a small smile. "I wouldn't mind being out of sight of your parents' bedroom, though."

"D'you think nobody's ever used this place before? We all did when we were teenagers - and probably Mum and Dad did too, though I'd really rather not think about that right now."

"I suppose not," Lee laughed. "Still."

George nodded and stood up too. "Where'd you go after the pub?" he asked, his breath still a bit fast from their kiss. "You weren't here all night, were you?"

Lee rolled his eyes. "No, Godric, I'm not so dramatic as to spend a night at a cemetery." He smiled as Fred's inscription flickered again. "Just walked around a bit, thought stuff. Took a ride on the Knight Bus."

"Ah." Yeah, the Knight Bus. Another good place to think, whether you had any destination or not, as the thing careened and lurched and made half the passengers sick. He glanced up at The Burrow. "Come on," he said. "Let's go." He gave his brother's gravestone a last touch and a smile, then turned and led Lee out of the graveyard, stopping at the large elm that marked the place where the field dropped down to the marsh, and bringing Lee around to the side away from direct sight of The Burrow.

They gazed at each other. "D'you want to continue what we were just doing?" Fuck, why was his voice unsteady?

Lee nodded wordlessly, and George reached out for him and started to pull him closer, stopping as he noticed a bruise along the side of Lee's neck - from Dorothy's last night, no doubt, he was right, Lee's pick-up had bitten hard enough to mark. He drew back slightly, registering Lee's quickly hidden look of dismay. He took a deep breath, and ran his fingertips over the darkened skin. Kissed it, and felt Lee shiver.

His heart was racing as he looked into Lee's eyes, their pupils wide, and saw hesitation, nerves, and anticipation. He'd seen that look on a lot of people in the last couple years. It was a look that always sent George's pulse racing, his breath speeding up, and any hint of anything grief-related out of the room. But seeing that look in a stranger's eyes, male or female, didn't compare to seeing it in his best mate's eyes; the bloke he'd tried not to fancy for years.

Lee gave him a smile, then moved closer, till their faces were close together and their mouths about an inch apart.

"I'm not sure how to do this," whispered Lee.

"It's like riding a broom, with fewer splinters," said George, chuckling. "Unless you're into splinters."

Lee laughed. "I know, only... I don't know how to take us from here to there."

"I don't either," said George. "Let's just try, and see what happens."

Lee nodded and pressed his lips to George's, smiling as George drew his breath in sharply and made a noise that might have been described as a squeak. Their chests were heaving, and it was a little odd, doing this together, but it felt so good and so right, Lee's scent still faintly smoky from the pub last night, but it didn't matter, this was brilliant, this was-

- thin air and a squawk in place of Lee's lips. George swayed forward, unbalanced by Lee's sudden disappearance, and barely avoided having his face smack against the elm and his tongue become intimate with tree bark. For a moment he stood, dumbfounded, before a splash and a howl of protest reached his ears. He looked around wildly, stepped forward and almost fell into a one-person-sized hole at his feet. He peered into it, noting that the hole was actually a steeply angled muddy chute, pointing straight at the swamp.

"The fuck?" Lee choked out, and George looked at the swamp to see him emerging through the reeds, coughing up swamp water. George gaped, then started to laugh helplessly.

"The fuck was that?" Lee demanded, still standing waist-deep in water.

"Oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry, I forgot!" George managed to say between gales of laughter. "Fred Charmed this spot the summer Bill and Fleur got married; they kept sneaking out here to snog and get out of the wedding preparations. He... thought it'd be funny..." George trailed off and tried to dampen his mirth as Lee's muddy face indicated remarkably little amusement.

"So anybody kissing here would go down a muddy chute and end up in the swamp. Hilarious, mate. Really." Lee started to wring muddy water from his dreadlocks. "A true fucking starry-eyed romantic, your twin."

George suppressed a snort and came a bit closer, reaching towards Lee to help him climb out of the swamp - and emitted a startled squawk of his own when Lee pulled him down into the muddy water instead. He emerged, spluttering and still laughing, and splashed Lee.

"Right, so, insert witty comment here about sweeping a fellow off his feet and all that," Lee said, glancing around. "We're going to do this in a bog, are we?"

George shook his head. "Ah, no, I wouldn't recommend that. The Merfolk get annoyed when people invade their territory."

"You've got Merfolk?" Lee repeated, his eyebrows shooting up.

"Marshfolk, more accurately. Not pleasant people. Squinty eyes and crooked teeth and a hell of an inferiority complex."

"Why's that?"

"Apparently Marshfolk resent not being as popular or romanticized as Merfolk. Can't imagine why." He led Lee out of the weeds and into the clearer water of the pond area.

"I've changed my mind," said Lee, following him. "The graveyard's quite lovely."

George laughed and turned to face him, sinking down into the water and washing off the marsh mud.

"The bottom's sand, right?" asked Lee. "Not mud?"

"This part of the pond, yeah," said George, and Lee reached down and took off his shoes and socks, tossing them towards the shore. George did the same, then started to remove the rest of his water-logged clothing. There was a moment of awkwardness before Lee started to do the same and George reflected that it really was a little different stripping before a best mate rather than... whatever they were right now. Merlin, he'd been naked in front of Lee countless times since they were eleven, and it had never been embarrassing before; but then, he'd never been sporting a stiffie you could pitch a Quidditch tent with before, despite the coolness of the water.

"So," he said, tossing the last of his clothing on to the shore. "What now?"

Lee shrugged shyly. "I don't know."

George reached for Lee and tugged him close, the chest-deep water flowing around them gently.

Lee glanced down into the water and grinned at George. "That's encouraging," he said, nodding his chin at the rather obvious evidence of George's firm approval of the situation.

George chuckled. "So's that," he said, nodding down as well. Their lips came together again, and he could taste the water on Lee, feel their slightly chilled bodies gaining warmth from each other. And it was bizarre - one moment they were both half-laughing as they kissed, just from the humour of the situation as well as the nerves, and then Lee's tongue touched his own and he gasped.

Oh yes.

This was nothing to chuckle at. Lee's tongue felt incredible, caressing George's lips, gently probing his mouth, Lee's eyes were closed in delight, and George had tried so hard not to think of his best mate like this but this, this was better than the fantasies he hadn't - quite - let himself have.

"What d'you want?" Lee asked, fingers running through George's hair, and he felt hot and hard against George's leg, the floating feeling of the cool water lending this a slightly surreal air.

"Whatever you want," said George, nuzzling his neck. "God, whatever you want, seriously."

Yesterday Lee had gone along with everything that man had told him to do, but although a jolt of arousal went through George at the thought of having Lee at his mercy like that, following wherever Lee led them sounded like a much better plan right about now. Having Lee be forceful, hearing Lee's voice urging him on, echoes of last night...

"Anything I want?" asked Lee, and there was something a bit dark in his voice as he stroked George and then slipped a hand down George's back and kept going. "You want this, don't you?"

George shivered and licked along the edge of Lee's ear. "Yeah," he whispered, hooking one leg around Lee's, anchoring them together more tightly. "God, yeah, I've wanted it for so fucking long..."

"Why didn't you? Before, with those Muggle men?"

"I didn't want... I wanted it to be with someone I trusted." He paused an infinitesimal fraction of a second before saying, "I trust you."

Lee gazed at him seriously for a while, stroking him slowly. "Enough to let me inside you?"

"Fuck, yeah," breathed George.

Lee's lips traced wet trails over his face, gently touching the droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes, as his hands slowly and firmly kneaded George's arse under the water, bringing their groins together and it was wonderful but frustrating at the same time because the water wasn't allowing enough friction, enough force, and George's hands were growing impatient as they slipped over Lee's back and arms and neck-

"We're going to have to get out," he gasped. "I want - it's not going to work like this and, and-" he trailed off, losing the plot a bit as Lee licked the water from the hollow at the base of George's neck and to his shoulder-bone, his fingers following a drop of water to George's pebbled nipple and then lightly pinching it. He moaned and Lee started moving them towards the shore, both still wrapped around each other, cool water flowing around them and slowing them down.

They emerged onto the shore and had to let go of one another in order for Lee to find a wand and spell the ground dry for them. George shivered, watching droplets of water make their way down Lee's back, slowly stroking himself until Lee was done and pulled him in to a bruising kiss. He groaned as Lee sat them down without breaking their kiss, then gently pushed George onto his back and loomed over him, taking his mouth again and covering George with his body, the heat between them quickly drying them off their wet skin.

"It made me crazy that you were with all those girls," murmured Lee, kissing his way along George's jaw. "Though in part it's because you were living those porn mags you and Fred used to get, remember them?"

"Yeah..." he said, arching his neck back, watching breathlessly as Lee kissed and licked his way down his chest.

"You didn't need to act them all out, you know," said Lee, slowly stroking him and the pace of his descent was beginning to drive George crazy. "Fucking everyone except me," he said, moving closer to George's cock and stroking more roughly now.

George gasped, nodding, and ran a hand down to Lee's hair, stroking the wet locks gently.

"And then, finding out you'd been with other men... thinking about you spreading your legs for some bloke who didn't know anything about you..."

George shook his head and parted his thighs. "Wouldn't've. I don't think."

"You would've. Eventually." Lee's hand was moving faster, harder, and it was a good thing George was still a little chilled or this would've been over so quickly it would've been embarrassing. He groaned at Lee's punishing speed and roughness, the pain and pleasure balancing on the edge.

"Go ahead. Do it," he whispered. "Do it. Please."

Lee moved up again and murmured a spell, and any gentleness between them was gone now, dissolving in heat and passion. He arched his neck back as Lee breached him with a finger, pain and excitement both rising to an almost unbearable pitch.

"That feels all right, there?" asked Lee breathlessly, and George couldn't even think of words to say Yes oh God oh yes. He urged Lee on, knowing it was probably going to hurt like hell, and not caring one bit.

Lee bit the side of his neck, finding the proper angle, and then started to push in steadily. George held his breath, a small whimper escaping him, his nails digging into Lee's back.

"Am I-"

"Don't you dare stop," gasped George, and Lee finished pushing in, both of them breathing hard as he rested against George, buried in him to the hilt. "Move. God, move, do it," begged George. I want to still feel this next week, Lee had said last night, and by God, George was going to feel this forever-

"Shh, not yet," Lee said, and took George's cock in his hand, gently squeezing before starting to pull with rough strokes. George hardened again, feeling like he was about to burst into flame, as Lee finally started to move, pushing into him again and again, and it was excruciating, a mixture of agony and ecstasy that was probably close to what Lee had been feeling last night, except there was no way it could've felt this good with a stranger and oh-

Well worth waiting for, George had a chance to think as he cried out in release and felt Lee jolt and stiffen and start pulsing inside him, gasping his name. This was perfect. Could've waited an entire lifetime for this.

So glad he didn't have to.

13. Coyote morning

George woke up, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings, until he remembered. He rolled over, to find Lee staring at him.

"Morning."

"Morning. More like mid-afternoon, actually."

There was a long, rather sheepish silence.

"I take it you remember last night," said Lee, striving for a casual tone. "And this morning."

George gave him a small smile and glanced around. Bit weird, seeing Lee's bedroom from his bed. "Just a bit. I didn't recite any Keats, did I?"

Lee smiled back.

The silence was a bit uncomfortable. It hadn't been, when they'd Apparated here after deciding to just crash and deal with whatever-this-was after some proper sleep.

"We... we can just not talk about it," Lee began, "if you'd rather-"

"Fuck no," George said vehemently, and Lee breathed a sigh of relief. "Look, I know I'm Ron's older brother and all but I don't really feel like trying to outdo the little denial-dance he had going with Hermione since forever."

"Yeah, you're right," Lee gave a small chuckle.

George swallowed hard and made himself move, feeling incredibly awkward doing this, because, well, best mate and all, and took Lee's hand. It felt like heaven when Lee didn't pull away. They gazed at their clasped hands for a moment, and shared a shy grin.

"This is going to take a bit of getting used to, yeah?"

"Yeah. I can deal with that."

"Good. Me too."

They grinned at each other for a moment longer, then George squeezed Lee's hand and sat up, covering a slight wince. Speaking of feeling it forever... "Right. Dunno about you, but I need some coffee."

"Right," said Lee, sitting up as well and getting out of bed. "And something to eat, I'm starving."

George nodded and they went to the kitchen, where George waved his wand around, getting their coffee as Lee got them both some toast.

He put a coffee in front of Lee. "I think maybe you need to talk and I need to listen." He cleared his throat. "So. You've, erm, been in love with me or something?"

"Not... not really," said Lee sheepishly, ducking his head down and rubbing the back of his neck. "I just... I haven't been. I just love you and I worry about you, and I wanted to... but I thought you didn't go for me because you weren't, you know, that way."

"Are you?"

"That way? Yeah."

George ran a hand through his hair, a slightly sick feeling in his stomach. "Why didn't I know that?"

Lee chuckled. "Because I've been concentrating on nothing but work for years, and I'd never actually slept with any man till last night?"

"You had girlfriends."

"At Hogwarts, yeah. They're nice. They don't really do much for me, though. I get impatient with them. It's not like being with you."

Merlin, how could he have not known? How blind was he, that he'd vaguely noticed once or twice that his best friend in the world never talked about getting laid, and didn't bother to wonder why? Post-war fog was no real excuse. George rubbed the bridge of his nose, regret washing through him. "How long since..."

"Since I went on a date?" Lee shook his head. "You sell good porn, mate. Haven't needed to, in years." Pause. "Besides, I thought maybe you did the casual fucking thing enough for both of us. Living vicariously and all that." He cleared his throat, met George's eyes and seemed to gain courage from them. He leaned forward. "I don't want to live vicariously any more. I can't. I want you, I want to see if we can sleep together and if - if maybe we can do more than that."

George bit his lip and squeezed Lee's hand. "I do too, but... I don't know." He paused. "I don't... I haven't really ever done steady very well."

Lee chuckled. "This is a huge revelation to me. You know, when I pictured this, the first thing I thought was that you'd of course jump at the chance to have something permanent and serious. It never once occurred to me that you would have trouble abandoning your little pathologic-"

George smiled and gave him a shove. "Shut it. It's not that I don't want to, only I never have before, that's all."

"Fair enough," said Lee. He hesitated for a moment. "That one time we fooled around..." he began.

"Yeah?"

"You thought about it, later?"

George sat back. "I did, but... so much else happened... and I thought maybe you were embarrassed. You never suggested it again."

"Would you have gone for it, if I had?"

"Probably."

Lee's eyes widened. "Really?"

"Erm. I think so." George closed his eyes, thinking back. "I thought about it. Thought about trying that again, getting some of that kind of porn. I did, but Fred teased me about it so I said it was research. One of the only times I ever lied to him, I think." He smiled sadly. "Not that he believed me, of course."

"So why'd you do it, then?"

George shrugged. "You were one of us, mate. It seemed weird to me. Thought it'd be even weirder to Fred. Like I'd started fancying Percy or something - oi!" George ducked the piece of toast Lee tossed at his head. "All right, Charlie, then."

"Better." Lee grinned at him. "So what happened to the porn?"

"Ended up using it in some Wheezes we were developing when we had to go into hiding."

"You didn't bring any of it to your Aunt Muriel's?"

George chuckled. "Should've. No, maybe not. We all had too much bloody time to sit and think. Would've driven myself round the bend."

Lee nodded.

"That was then, and this is now, though," said George.

"Yeah, fair enough." Lee nodded. He hesitated again, clearly trying to figure out how to say what he needed to say. "I'm not going to want a one-off, or just casual," he finally said. "If that's what this is, stop now, right?"

"That's not what this is," said George. "Not a one-off. You know that. Neither was last time; we were just too stupid to realize it."

"And another thing?"

"Yeah?"

Lee picked up his coffee and drained the cup, clearly buying time, and George followed the line of his throat as he drank, remembering what it had felt like to follow that line with his lips this morning, what Lee had tasted like with the water still dripping off of him, with-

"If we do... this," Lee said, startling George out of his reverie, "this whatever-the-fuck it is, I can't." He took a deep breath. "Look, I lost one of my two best mates. It's not been easy sitting here watching the other one get closer and closer to doing himself in. I haven't said much, but fuck-"

"What? What d'you mean?" George said defensively.

"You drink too much," Lee said flatly. "You go out and sleep with whomever - and you can say all you want about playing safe and only sleeping with witches or Muggle men, or whatever, but it's still rubbish, because you're taking foolish risks-"

"I wouldn't cheat on you," said George, stung. And Merlin it felt weird to say that to his best mate.

"No, I know you wouldn't, but that's not all you've done that's dangerous. You don't take care of yourself. You work too hard, you test products that aren't safe, you're on a first-name basis with the St. Mungo's emergency staff - you just, you don't care enough about yourself-" and George frowned at the slight break in Lee's voice at the end. Lee cleared his throat. "Don't make me lose my other best mate, right?"

George's mouth was open. He closed it. He stood up, paced the length of the room.

"George?"

He turned and looked at Lee. Saw the worry, the uncertainty, the hope in his eyes, and all his objections and excuses and defences died in his throat.

"Have as many bad days as you want," Lee said quietly, looking down now, one finger nervously circling the rim of his coffee cup. "Get as angry as you want, get as miserable as you want. Just don't shut me out of it, right? And don't give me the same crap you give everyone else, that convinces them you're doing all right. Let me help."

George stared at him. Thought of two years of automatically pushing away anyone who tried to reach for him the way Lee was doing right now. Two years of holding his pain to himself, because the only person he'd ever turned to with anything difficult was gone and the hurt was worse than any he'd ever known, so bad he couldn't face it, so bad he just ran from it, so bad the only thing he could do was try to pretend to the outside world that he was doing just fine, because it wasn't as if anybody could possibly help.

Except Lee could see through all of that - could see more clearly than George, even - and wanted to help. Wanted to try, at least.

George sank down next to him. He took a deep breath. "All right."

Lee smiled with relief and pulled him close, into an embrace in which George couldn't tell where the friend ended and the lover began. It probably didn't matter.

George nodded again. "All right," he repeated in a whisper, and covered Lee's lips with his own.

- End.

Author's notes, post-fic: ozma_katiebell's request was for (among others) George/Lee, Dirty Talk, Voyeurism, Light Bondage, Outdoors, and Wet Weasleys. And "[i]f using George and writing post-DH, I'd like for him to have gone through a bitter or self destructive period, whether the other person helps him out of it is up to you."