Two Halves to a Hole

Fred's lips were dry and smooth. His incisors bumped up against George's gums in the forceful motion of the kiss; his tongue quickly following. Jerking backwards, George felt the back of his skull hit the wall behind him, but the pain didn't register. Fred leaned even farther in, pushing his twin even closer up against the wall. This was no easy feet considering Fred's hands were still tightly bound behind his back. Finally, when he was good and ready, Fred pulled back, slowly dragging out George's lip before totally releasing him, a look severe smugness on his face.

"Feel better?" asked Fred, looking sidewise at the trio. Hermione's lip was curled in disgust, Harry's jaw was dropped (wand out, however), and Ron had turned away completely, a deep shade of scarlet scorching his cheeks. First thing this morning, they had finally allowed Fred a chance to get up go to the loo under the careful supervision of all four of his captors. He had been perfectly behaved so far, being only a little crude while asking Hermione if she planned on helping him out in the actual toilet as well. 'Stuff that Fred might have normally said even in normal circumstances. You know, circumstances minus the Dark Mark. But on the way back down to the basement from the loo, Fred had turned on his brother (who had been leading him tightly by the arm) in the small space.

"That...That was a little much, don't you think, Fred?" said Harry, swallowing back his disturbance and regaining his stature. He was well aware of the intimidation game, growing up with the Dursleys, Malfoy, and Snape for prime references. Not that they normally kiss their relatives in doing so, though...

"You could have just asked if you wanted our attention."

It had been hard to translate George's reaction the strange assault; he hadn't struggled mightily against it; however, he hadn't had much time to react. It wasn't until his blank eyes flamed up and he grabbed Fred's shoulders, giving them a powerful shake, that anyone could read George. Giving Fred another shake (nothing painful, but enough to snap back Fred's head), George drew himself back so that he was at arms length, eye-to-eye with his twin.

"Give me back my brother," he spoke low and forcefully. It reminded Hermione of an exorcism she had seen pictures of in a book once.

"Oh, don't look at me like that. It's not like you've never wanted to try that, Georgy Porgey. I know you," drawled Fred, speaking his first full sentence of the day and looking mightily pleased with it. Then he snapped back to the trio:

"Listen, you ickle wizardlings either need to hand me over to the Order or let me go. I'm getting' very bored hanging out in your--scratch that--my basement all the live long day." He sighed exaggeratedly. "Hopping hoaxes, I knew it was a mistake to hire you three." He started to laugh at himself.

Ah, the truth comes out, thought Harry. Fred's little performance and his jokes were all trying to hide his very real annoyance with being trapped. He was, in essence, trying to psych out his captors.

"Get him back downstairs," said Hermione, nodding to Ron and Harry. Letting him getting under our skin won't help us in the least. Ron and Harry each grabbed an elbow and started leading the red-head. Fred made a mock-disappointment face and followed, leaning towards Ron and laughing as his little brother spazmed out of his way. As the three of them disappeared from sight, Hermione faced George, who had his scowl on. She'd never forgive Fred for putting such an abnormal expression on such a playful spirit as George Weasley, whether he was under a spell or not.

"We haven't had any luck so far, George," she said rather loudly, trying to drown out Fred's wafting sing-song version of "Georgy Porgy pudding pie, kissed his brother and made him cry..." coming up from the basement.

"I know," retorted George. "But so what? I have today and tomorrow before we alert the Order. Remember our agreement?"

Hermione nodded, her lips pursed with concern.

"Then stop your sodding whining until then, okay?" he snapped. A glimpse of her widened eyes made him regret his answer instantly, and an awkward silence ensued.

"Im sorry, 'Mione..." he muttered first, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No, that's okay," she replied, making every effort to look chipper. "He's your twin--you have every right to be upset that this is happening."

"No, I'm still being an arse." He mirrored her smile. Another pause. "And, Yeh, and he's my brother an' all, but you still have ties to him yourself."

She glanced up with a little crease forming between her eyebrows. She couldn't tell if...

"I found those pictures of the two of you," he answered her question. Immediately, she turned as tomato as Ron had earlier.

"Don't be daft, they just made me laugh, okay? It made me feel good to see him...y'know, like he was before," shrugged George. He could tell Hermione had been trying to avoid thinking about Fred in that way during the last few days; sensibly speaking, it seemed like the best plan of action. He certainly hadn't known(not like these things had ever been a major deal between the twins), but now that he did, he felt a little more kindly towards Hermione, knowing that on some level, she had been bruised right along with him during Fred's descent.

"Oh, it wasn't a big deal," when she finally spoke, she did it very softly, probably so no one below could hear her. "It wasn't much more then in the pictures. You know...nothing big". George wasn't extremely familiar with Hermione's past flings (although he was sure that they had not been what one would call extensive) but he nodded in strong agreement anyway. "Just-er-- don't show those pictures to anyone else, alright?" she asked, sounding quite calm but looking quite pink. George felt himself smile a genuine smile for the first time in a long time.

"Of course not. Say, do you want 'em? The pics? They're up in Fred's room on his table. They're all yours if you'd like," he said.

"Yea...that might be nice," she smiled back sheepishly. "Remembering that afternoon makes me remember Fred like he was. He really was himself, you know? He wasn't weird yet or anything..." she said, thinking back to the big galoot blowing at her hair and pinching her fingers while he did a fake palm reading. Their fH

lirting had been very tame; Fred had been very much himself around her, playing and teasing and making her smile beside herself. Then, at the perfect moment, he'd take it a step farther by giving her a brief kiss or squeezing her hand. It had been wonderful relief to let someone else worry about all the chasing. Someone a little more mature then what she was used to, someone who could be as determined as she could be... Of course, their "relationship" had been short and sweet, because soon after that was when Fred went missing for the first time. Although...

Thankfully, her reverie was cut short after Ron and Harry trudged back upstairs. I've got to stay on track for Fred's sake, she thought firmly to herself.

"So what's the plan for today?" asked Ron, still unable to look his older brother in the eyes.

"This is what I was thinking," said Hermione. "Ron and I will do a little 'browsing' today out in the Ally. There's quite a few shops here that, with a little luck, will be able to provide us with all the research material we'll need for the time being. Meanwhile, Harry and George will stay here, look after Fred, and see if they can get anymore information out of him about Voldemort. It might help if we knew exactly how this happened."

Harry nodded and Ron groaned. He didn't like the idea of a day of intense studying, no matter if it was with Hermione or not.

She ignored his moan, tucked her wand into her robe, and headed out into the street. The crisp morning smell wafted in as she opened the door. It was an odd feeling to the three boys still in the shop, the knowledge that a world was still going on outside, bustling about in the warmth, while they stood in what was now feeling like a dank crypt. Ron gave a pitying shrug in Harry and George's direction and hurriedly followed after the bushy-haired witch.

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"What is this? You're doing all but cracking your knuckles at me, mate," grinning Fred, tilting his head at Harry. Their "little talk" with the Death Eater wasn't going so well thus far, but no one had assumed it would. Harry and George stood, leaning ominously against the wall of the basement and stared back at Fred.

Okay, let's try something different, thought Harry. "So, Fred...when did all this start?" he asked innocently.

"What do you mean?" asked Fred coyly.

"I mean, why did Voldemort wait until now to 'choose you'?"

"I dunno--does it matter? Maybe I wasn't ready yet to join him. Maybe I didn't know enough. Maybe he didn't need me yet".

"Why do you think he chose to 'need you' now of all times? I mean, you're not even at Hogwarts anymore."

"I'll ask 'im later, I guess," Fred smiled.

"Maybe he hadn't had a chance to lure you in yet, eh?"

"I see where you're going with this, Harry, but he didn't lure me anywhere. I've had these ideas in my head for a long time; The Dark Lord just gave me the chance to do something about it. Y'can ask George if you'd like. He knows".

Harry glanced at George, but George didn't meet his eyes; he just shook his head slowly, looking aggravated. Okay then.

"So how did it happen?" asked Harry.

"How did my master call me into his service? I dunno, Harry-that's pretty personal. Do you want me to ask you about Sirius's death or something?"

Harry glared.

"Exactly," said Fred nonchalantly. "What's mine is mine." The fierce grin reappeared. "I'll tell you though...it was pretty bloody spectacular."

"Sure," said Harry. "Though I'm suspecting you don't remember much of it, considering you've probably been hexed backwards and forwards so many times you can hardly see straight."

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Fred said in the pseudo-scolding way he did often did after Harry messed up a at Quidditch practice. "Let me be clear, because I know this is a difficult concept to grasp. There. Is. No. Spell. Don't let Dumbledore's prattish logic blunder you up, mate. It's just me."

George shook his head, the familiar ache in his chest reverberating with every word. He wondered briefly if he'd ever be able to read his twin's thoughts with ease ever again, but then shut the idea down. He couldn't afford to be wishy-washy at a time like this.

"Oh, don't start blubbering again, George," Fred said. "Don't make me come back over there an'...ah!" Fred flinched violently. His face scrunched up with what Harry recognized to be pain. Fred hissed slowly, letting all the air out of his lungs; he squirmed in the chair. "Bloody hell..." he murmured.

George quickly knelt at his brother's side. "What is it? Are you alright, Fred? Fred?" he asked anxiously.

Harry blinked; suddenly, the answer to this query dawned on him. He took Fred's arm (still bound) and pulled up the sleeve. The Dark Mark was almost pulsating on the twin's arm; it almost stood up from the skin. Harry brushed it with his fingers, and then quickly snatched them away. It was smoldering. Thanks Professor, Harry thought, remembering all the times Snape had unconsciously rubbed his own Mark.

So, this is one way for Voldemort to get your attention," commented Harry while Fred clenched and unclenched his hands, eyes unfocused.

"Harry, he's in pain!" worried George. He could hardly stand to watch Fred in agony like this.

Fred jerked his head up fiercely, his eyes flashing. "Let me go," he growled.

"Yea, right," Harry answered, wondering briefly where all of Fred's finesse had disappeared off to.

"Untie me, George," Fred commanded, probably knowing he'd have a better chance with his twin.

"...er" George muttered.

"I thought you wanted to stay here with us, Fred. You certainly gave us that impression before Voldemort started blazing your arm up," said Harry.

"Release. Me. You. Bloody. Git," Fred's voice dipped down low and throaty, his lips parted in a sneer.

"What's all this, then? Your own master is hurting you, just to get your attention? How is that for affection? How's that for compassion?" Harry couldn't help the cynicism that oozed out with his words.

"Let me go!" Fred screamed, squirming violently now. "My master needs me!"

"That's just too bad."

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"Crikey, I'm starved," said Ron, peering longingly at a café through the big glossy window of Tomes, Tombs and Ancient Texts. Hermione looked up from her own large volume and followed Ron's gaze.

"If you're not going to stop saying that, Ron, then you should just go get something to eat. I'm trying to read."

Ron ignored her: "I mean, when's the last time you ate something? Boy, I can tell you when I did, and it was too bloody long ago".

Hermione shut her book firmly. A thin film of dust had already dirtied her hands after all the searching she had done thus far, watched warily by the store's elderly owner. She hadn't been able to find anything useful yet--there was quite a bit of text on Death Eaters, but when it came to creating one, that's where it got vague. Ron had been looking at the same page for a long while, so she leaned over to see what he'd found.

"What to Feed Your Magic Beetle', Ron? How is that supposed to help Fred?"

Ron was still too entranced by the meals being eaten across the street to answer. Finally, he tore his gaze away; suddenly appreciative of how cute Hermione looked, watching him with a wrinkled nose as a sign of her annoyance.

"Hmm? Oh, nothing. Never mind that." He scratched at his collar, thinking before speaking again. "Hermione? I haven't found much, but I was wondering...you know how after Voldemort lost most of his powers a long time ago? He had a ton of followers before that, remember?" Hermione nodded and listened. "Well, okay--do you remember how after he lost to Harry, and a ton of his Death Eaters claimed that they'd been brainwashed into following him? A lot of them got off the hook because they said he had them under their power, remember?

"And you wonder if some of them were telling the truth? You think maybe Fred was brainwashed?" she filled in.

Ron nodded. "I know a lot of them, like the Malfoys, were just lying to get back in with Dumbledore so they wouldn't go to Azkaban, but what if Voldemort really did hypnotize some of them or something?"

They thought about this for a few minutes in silence. Ron actually started to wish that there was a Death Eater somewhere he could talk to, while Hermione wondered just how hypnotism would affect a person's personality.

"I know this seems very wrong..." started Hermione. "But Fred...even with the Dark Mark...he seems like, you know, Fred."

Ron blinked. "Were you even around this morning? Did I just totally I imagine the whole incest moment, because if I had, I'd be bloody happy about it."

"No, No. I know things are different," said Hermione, trying to be more careful with her words. "But other then when he's trying to get a rise out of us, don't tell me you're not a little surprised at how familiar his behaviorisms are."

Ron shrugged, defensive for his brother's sake. "I guess so. But maybe the Mark doesn't change a person like we think it does. Most of our examples were Slytherins, remember? They're not a very pleasant bunch to start off with. Maybe this is what happens when a Gryffindor gets it or something."

Hermione slowly nodded, but her mind was buzzing away. Something is defiantly going on here.

"He's not even that threatening of a Death Eater," she said suddenly, enjoying the look of surprise on the snooping store owner before he hurried away.

"'Mione! How can you say that?" Ron hissed at her.

"I'm sorry, but it's been bothering me. Fred as a Death Eater is like none other that we've encountered before. He's hardly violent, and he hasn't even tried to do anything to Harry when he's around him all the time. In fact, now that I think about it, it was weeks before we figured out what was going on--we were around him all the time, and the worse he did was disappear for days on end".

"Maybe he's just warming up," Ron spat. "Or possibly, he hasn't tried anything because we haven't given him a chance to yet." Ron's eyes narrowed. "And let's not, okay?"

"I know that, Ron. I wasn't suggesting we form a support group for him or anything, I was just saying his behavior's a bit curious. I think that's why it's been bothering us so much. I mean, don't you think it's odd that Fred doesn't even bicker with us? Think about how much dirt he has on us! He knows exactly what most of our buttons are, but he hasn't gone out of his way to push them. He--"

"What are you trying to say, Hermione?" Ron interrupted. She knew he was irritated by the way his freckles were standing out against his pale skin.

"I'm saying..." she thought about it. What am I saying? "I'm saying, we might have to deal with the possibility that this really is Fred--our Fred, the one who couldn't bring himself to hurt us, even if he is in allegiance with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Perhaps...perhaps he really did choose this, Ron.

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Molly was surprised when the doorknob didn't turn in her hand. What? Still locked? she thought. At noon? Why aren't we open yet? She fished her key out of her fuchsia raincoat and unlocked the door to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Everything in the store was still and quiet; the lights hadn't even been turned on yet. Dropping her things on the countertop, she was further surprised to see George asleep in the chair, his head bent over. Awww...she smiled, going over to him. In the process, she nearly stumbled over Harry. He had drug a comforter downstairs, and was sleeping soundly on the floor, using a couch cushion for a pillow. What is this? She wondered, smiling to herself at the sight. A slumber party? The idea nearly made her giggle, but she repressed the sound, not wishing to wake the two boys up. Setting her purse down next to the register, she started looking around for the rest of their group.

Standing near the stairs, she listened, but didn't hear any noise coming from the apartment overhead. Huh...Suddenly, she heard a muffled noise. Stranger yet, it seemed to be coming from downstairs. Molly's brow creased when she saw the basement door had been left open. Maybe Fred's back from his last little outing. She stood at the top of the stairs, but couldn't seen in the darkness. She couldn't call out without waking George and Harry, so she just walked down the steps.

By the time she reached the bottom, she could make out a figure sitting in a chair.

"Fred?" she asked, greatly surprised to find the red-head actually tied to the thing. He was squirming around when she walked up on him, but when he saw her, his eyes widened and he stopped.

"...Hey Molly," he said cautiously, looking at her a little peculiarly.

"Why isn't the shop opened up, Fred? And why in God's name are you down here tied up like this? What is going on with you people? George and Harry are passed out upstairs, and don't even ask me where the other two monkeys are at the moment."

He smiled brightly, which relieved her a little.

"Oh...it's a long story," he tilted his head, looking casual. "George an' I were trying out an... experimental sleeping cream. We were joking around with Harry, wanting him to try it out, but he wouldn't...so I threatened to tie him up and force him to take it." He laughed, shaking his head. "They turned on me, the gits. One thing led to led to another, and here I am. But I think they got too much on themselves, if you're saying they're asleep right now. That would explain why no one's come to free me yet."

'Geez--you little kiddies," Molly said, smiling. "It's almost noon, you silly buggers." She pulled out her wand. "Let's get you free so we can go roust the sleepy heads."

"I'd appreciate it," Fred said.

She raised her wand, but then stopped. "Fred..." she began.

'Um...yea?" his eyes flitted back to the stairs.

"Let me just say that I'm glad to see that you're getting on with George again. I couldn't stand to see him when you were rowing before."

Fred nodded quickly in agreement.

"Okay, then..."she said. "Alohomora!"

The ropes loosened, and then fell loose around Fred's waist in a limp pool. He shuffled, and with Molly's help, removed all the coils.

"Er...Fred? Why did someone put a spell on these ropes? I could feel it give when I cast mine..." she asked, suddenly looking a little unnerved.

"FRED!" George's voice came loudly from the top of the stairs.

"Oh, George, you're finally awake," smiled Molly.

Harry bumped into George on the top step, and then pushed past him. He rushed down the stairs towards Fred, and then stopped dead in his tracks.

"Damn it--George! I've forgotten my wand upstairs!" Harry yelled, watching in dismay at Fred gingerly picked his own wand--the wand they had separated from him when they tied him up--from a nearby table top.

"What's going on?" asked Molly, now looking very concerned.

Fred smiled at Harry; wand raised, and proceeded to walk slowly past him. He reached the bottom of the stairs and started to ascend up them. Harry looked around, trying frantically to think of away to stop the red-headed Death Eater. DAMN IT he thought, furious with himself.

Now the only thing blocking Fred from freedom was George, and George didn't look up to the task of stopping his own brother. Still, he had to try...pulling out his own wand, he raised it, yelling "Expelliarmus!" The half-hearted disarming spell whizzed by Fred's shoulder, harmless.

Fred's eyes narrowed. "George? Did you just attempt to put a spell on me? On me? Your own brother? Your own twin? The one whose always protected you and guided you? The one you've grown up with and love? Me, George?"

George swallowed and finally, after a long pause, nodded. "You...you have to be stopped, Fred. You have to be stopped for your own good."

"Just checking," Fred retorted. "Stupefy!"

The charm was so strong it lifted George right off his feet, and he went sailing into the bookcase behind him. He hit hard, and when he fell to the floor, he didn't move. Molly cried out, now clearly terrified.

"Fred! Fred!" Harry called, but it was too late.

By the time he made it to the top of the stairs himself, Fred had already apparated far, far away.