Enough

Fred always joked that he and George shared a soul. George never joked; it was too close to the truth. Fred knew why George never joked about it, but he had to, to relieve the sometimes painful intensity. And George knew that, too, so his smile was always and only kind when Fred started going on about it.

Fred sighed as he attacked another filthy cauldron with the sponge, muttering all the while. George, next to him, did the same, but silently. Determined to get through it before quidditch practice, they scrubbed with a dedication their mother would have been surprised to discover possible. Fred's muttering continued all the while, and George didn't need to hear the words, "Stupid Snape," and "Stupid soul," to know what his brother was thinking.

George was not surprised when Fred reached his boiling point and hurled the wet sponge across the room. "Its not fair!" he screamed, shaking with resentment.

"I know," George said.

"It's not like this hasn't happened before. Nobody ever cared..." Fred ran out of words, his fists clenched tight at his sides.

"I know," George said again.

"As if we would cheat, on a stupid potions exam. As if we would cheat off each other!"

George knew from long experience that things would only get worse if he got upset too, so he clamped down hard on the fury he felt rising. Not completely successful, a little indignation pushed out. "You'd think they'd understand. I mean, we live together, take classes together, study together, practice together -"

"Of course we're going to have the same ideas," Fred interrupted in agreement. "We have the same bloody life."

"Same brain, though?" George asked quietly. "Same thoughts?"

"We do not have the same damn soul, George!" Fred's reply was anything but quiet. "I don't care how similar our bloody potions exams were!"

When George quivered, Fred knew. How could he not know every expression that could possibly pass over the face he had seen almost every moment of his life? And George quivered now, just for a moment, with Fred's words echoing inside him. His eyes slanted down, and he reached for his sponge and a cauldron.

George was not surprised to feel an arm around his shoulders, a head tuck in against his own. "Hey, hey," Fred said, moving so their heads leaned against each other. "Don't, George. It's ok."

Fred didn't say he was sorry. He didn't need to, as they stood, their hearts beating in time. Fred's arm was familiar around George's shoulder. George slid his arm around Fred's waist, and they stood there leaning into each other.

Finally, George broke the silence. "We do - "

"I know," Fred sighed, cutting him off. "I hate - "

"I know," George returned.

"But not us," Fred said after a long moment. "I could never hate us. It's them." A wave of his had indicated the world outside the potions classroom.

George hated when Fred sounded resigned. "Yeah, there's them," he agreed, tightening his arm around his brother. "But there's us. And I think..." he broke off, shy even around Fred about finishing that sentence.

"Yes," Fred whispered. "It's enough."