Two Halves to a Hole

The hands on the Weasley clock labeled "Ron" and "George" quickly traveled across the timepiece; they drifted past "late" and past "mortal danger" until finally settling on "home". Severus Snape exchanged stony looks with his three companions, signaling for them to be silent and pointed at the clock.

Fred's "hand" was also resting on "home". The Death Eater was very close. Harry, with his wand raised, nodded, and took a long good look around. The silence that hung in the air was all-encompassing. He wasn't even sure that, if he chose to speak, any sound would penetrate the heavy stillness.

The kitchen looked exactly how he and George had left it just half an hour ago. Noticing the untouched ham resting atop the counter and the partially-opened oven, he wondered if it was a little too similar. If Mrs. Weasley and Ginny had been in this very kitchen preparing an early lunch just a few minutes ago, so where were they now? Now there was simply a hush--and no sign of anyone. Even the familiar noises produced by Burrow were stilled: no strange whistles or the bustling of muggle contraptions, no laughing, and not even the familiar shrieks of Pigwideon.

Ron stooped down to pick up a large shard to a bowl that was busted wide open on the ground. He regarded the piece with wide, apprehensive eyes, and showed the group. George nodded and took another step to match Harry's pace. The Boy Who Lived was taking his time looking at everything--his eyes were systematically following the trail of Weasley clutter for clues. Where are they?

The only wizard without his heart in his throat was Snape; his heavy coat ruffled as he reached out and grabbed Harry's shirt, yanking him backwards. Harry spun around and glared at the potions professor, but Snape just snarled, silently reprimanding the boy for taking the lead. Once Harry had nodded in brief submission, Snape carefully edged into the next room, the boys following quickly behind.

"Blimey!" Ron squeaked as he rounded the corner. Fred was lounging at the dining room table, his chair pushed far back and his feet resting on the table-top itself. He regarded the wizards with a serene, if not pleasantly surprised, smile on his face.

"Hey gang," he greeted them, giving a little half wave. His wand was tucked behind his ear and his robes were different. No longer was Fred wearing the shabby hand-me-downs guaranteed by the Weasley life-style--no, now he donned a beautiful ankle-length robe with a raised collar. Underneath the blood-colored garment peeked a sharp white shirt and dark slacks. Although it was just another break away from the Fred they all remembered, the ensemble did suit the twin. Not that this was the time to be thinking about fashion.

Harry leveled his wand, breaking the silence with his clear, objective voice: "Where do you have Ginny and Mrs.Weasley?"

Snape, annoyed by Harry's ongoing tendency to take charge, elbowed past the young wizard, his own wand at the ready. Staring at Fred's complacent expression, his mild curiosity aimed now at Snape, the professor felt his own pulse quicken. This was just a little too close to home. Should he stupefy the brat right then and there? But what about the rest of the Weasels? Dumbledore would certainly be angry if they weren't retrieved...

Fred didn't even go for his wand. He stretched his arms, causing everyone to flinch, and then rolled his eyes. "You might as well put down your wands," he commented offhandedly. "I mean, you must know I'm not daft enough to wait around for you without having a trick up my sleeve."

"Shut your mouth and stand up slowly," commanded Snape, unconsciously drawing up his height for the full effect. "We are taking you back to the Order of the Phoenix." When Fredremained seated, Snape barked: "Get up!"

Fred looked past the threatening professor. "Why did you bring 'im?" he asked Ron, George, and Harry. "All of you I absolutely adore, but this traitor? He's half as bad as Umbridge."

"Fred..." George's finally spoke up, his voice low and ragged. "Did you hurt them?" Fred glanced at his twin, who was leaning on the door frame; it appeared as if he was standing there for the support.

"I swear to God, George--if you break down into a gibbering wreck once a-bloody-gain, I just might have to, wont I?" laughed Fred.

"Wait--so mum an' Ginny are alright?" asked Ron suddenly. His pure and utter belief that this was all mind control was apparently giving him unparalleled strength when confronting his brother. Everyone else would momentarily lose focus, but not Ron. He just knew this was all Voldemort's doing, and this afforded him the will power to stay on track.

Fred tilted his head in the familiar way he does. "Of course, you ninny." This would have been comforting if it was not quickly followed by "What good would they do me then?"

This was not going the direction Snape had planned at all. What was Albus thinking? These damned brats are just getting in the way.

"Fred Weasley, I command you to throw down your wand and surrender to the Order of the Phoenix immediately. Before any further actions are to be taken, you will be escorted back to headquarters," Snape said, his voice firm and cruel--a second-nature sound to every wizard present.

"No--it's you that doesn't understand, Severus," growled Fred in a very different tone then he had been using up to this point. He stood up now, his hands spread-eagle on the dining table and sheer determination etched in his features. "This is not a game anymore. It was, briefly--but now it's over, Severus, an' I won. I'm sorry you weren't there to play, but they definitely were," he pointed at Harry, Ron, and George. "And I won. So now it's time to listen to what Fred has to say, righty-o?"

"Expelliar--" Snape began suddenly.

"Enervate!" Fred yelled, nulling the professor's spell. Before Snape could begin another, Fred bellowed: "Do you want them to be slaughtered?" Harry could see Snape hesitate, trying to sort out his options. "Because if you do, you'll try another spell. Just try it. He will know." Fred glared at the four of them as they stood frozen and unsure.

"Please don't let them get hurt, Fred," George uttered.

"It's not up to me anymore."

Snape was growing more livid by the moment. He was visibly losing his calm composure. "Where do you think you can go, you imbecile?" He growled. "There are four of us and one of you, and as I recall," he sneered condescendingly, "you're no great wizard."

"I don't have to be," Fred answered, pulling up his sleeve and lowering his arm so that he could bare the mark to everyone in the room. To look at its curling darkness was almost as revolting as it had been the first time. It was so very...permanent. Harry saw Snape flinch, even though Harry knew Dumbledore had already told the professor about the mark. "To catch you up to speed, Severus, I am very, very serious right now. And you do not want to test me." Fred didn't bother pulling his sleeve back down, but took his seat again, apparently satisfied with himself.

Snape's wand quivered, but he didn't say anything in response; however, his lips were still poised as if he was on the verge of saying something, and then, when he couldn't find the right words, he'd stop. Harry knew that under Snape's own sleeve was an identical mark, and that's when Harry realized the real reason Dumbledore had sent Snape along out of all the Order members. A heavy pause lingered the past and present Death Eaters.

"Weasley...The Dark Lord...you know you can't--" Snape finally started, for once looking unsure of himself.

"Spare me." Fred drawled. "You know that you're a dead mean walking, Severus. But even as such, you know that any-any-spell that is placed on me, my master will know about it because of this mark," He smiled and tapped the side of his nose. "But I've never had a way with words, so let me be blunt. If you want the little lambs to live, you'll let me live. I am your only key to getting them back, alright?"

"Where are they?" Harry asked again.

"Currently dear old mum and sis are residing in my master's luxurious estate," he winked. "Don't worry--I know he'll see to their every need."

"So what's all this about? What do you want?" Ron asked loudly.

"Ten points for Gryffindor!" Fred exclaimed. "Ickle Ronnikins has hit the nail on the head, hasn't he? What does zany Fred want now? Well, for starters, you can take me straight to the headquarters of the Dumbledore regime, just as you wanted to do in the first place. I need to have a wee chat with Dumbledore."

"You're the Dark Lord's emissary," Snape stated, not asked.

Fred chortled. "It's a perk of being the favorite, don't you know. Little ol' Fred getting to have all the fun. But you would know all about that, wouldn't you, popins?"

Snape's lip curled. Abhorrence radiated off of the grim potions master in waves.

"How do we know that You-Know-Who won't k...kill mum n' Ginny whenever he feels like it?" Ron asked.

"How do we know their not already dead?" Harry softly interjected.

"I think it's funnier if you don't. But let's not play these games. You don't have any other options at the moment, and we know it. And your letting me get bored. So let's go." He stood up, tucking his wand back behind his ear and smoothing down the front of his crimson robes. He looked expectantly at the shaken group.

Harry, for the first time, had a strong urge to hex Fred's face bloody. This sudden loathing was a product of being pushed to far, too often; and now, even if he knew Fred was under a curse, Harry couldn't help but feel very real anger towards this person he once regarded his friend. Ron tried to swallow this request without allowing a chink to be made in his armor, but it was getting more difficult by the moment. And George...well, who knew what George was thinking. His face was expressionless, which was probably the worse possible sign at a time like this.

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Eventually, after the stare-down between Snape and Fred waned, Snape had left the room to contact Dumbledore through the fireplace, leaving the boys alone with the Death Eater. Fred had relaxed considerably once Snape left the room, even going as far as asking George how the Wheeze's business was doing. It was normal and frightening, so no one bothered to answer him, gazing off elsewhere in a weary fashion.

Snape probably had to sort out quite a few frantic Order members on the other end of the fireplace, so it was no wonder he was taking so long. Harry felt terrible that he had allowed this mess to happen, but he couldn't think of how this situation could have been handled differently. Voldemort was being more bold then usual in his actions, and Harry had an uneasy feeling that Fred had something to do with that.

Fred, looking restless, finally sat up and tried to catch someone's eye.

"Okay then...how's 'Mione doing?"

"Shuttup!" snapped Harry. "If you're going to be a bloody Death Eater, at least be a quiet one! We've never had to listen to Lestrange of Malfoy prattle on like this. No one wants to hear any of your shite, Fred."

"What do you care about Hermione now, anyway?" Ron asked heatedly.

"Stop being so touchy you li'l prats," Fred answered, his grin broadened. Harry felt sick to his stomach when he realized that Fred was actually enjoying this. "Besides, why can't I care about how she's doing? Just because I've joined the Dark Lord doesn't mean I'm not the same me."

Harry's eyes flashed. "Do you even realize that you're blackmailing the Order with your own family?"

"Tsk tsk, Harry. If The Dark Lord gets what he wants, there's no reason for them to get hurt. Don't fret over it." Ignoring Harry's violently skeptical snort, Fred added, "Besides, she probably misses me."

George opened his dry mouth to say something, but Ron was too fast for him: "What the bloody hell does that mean?"

Fred raised a delicate eyebrow. "She never mentioned us to you?"

"Wha--what?" Ron sputtered. "What codswallop is this?" He looked from Harry to George. Harry looked like he couldn't care less at the moment, but he also shrugged to show he didn't know anything about it. George gave a little nod, conceding that Fred was telling the truth.

"It wasn't a big deal, Ron. I was just wondering how she was." Fred shrugged as well. George could tell his twin was already tiring of the subject, but the idea his twin could converse so ordinarily was tremendously disconcerting. It would have been much easier for everyone if Fred just shot them murderous glances and spoke in parsletongue.

"I don't believe a word of it," Ron grumbled finally, clamping his lips shut and looking surly.

Fred tried to exchange a 'what's his problem?' look with George, but George wretched his eyes away. Every part of him wanted to clamber to Fred's side and laugh with him, but he knew what a travesty that would be. Nevertheless, it felt terribly good to have Fred even look at him with recognition in his eyes.

Snape re-entered the room. "Get up," he snarled at Fred. "Professor Dumbledore is waiting to speak to you."

"Fabulous!" Fred stood up briskly and headed for the door. Harry and Ron were careful not to let their guard down; Fred might be looking for a sit-down with the Order, but that doesn't mean Voldemort's minions were ever to be trusted.

Right before he headed under the doorway, Fred looked over his shoulder. Harry followed his puzzled expression to see George, still leaning against the wall. Fred stepped towards his twin. "George..." he began, but George's knees buckled before he could get any more out. George's eyes closed, blurry and wet, and after he had slumped to the floor, he didn't move.

"He passed out. The poor bloke's exhausted," Fred said as Ron and Harry rushed to his twin's side.

Snape looked overly-exasperated and gave everyone in the room a good glowering at. Commanding Harry and Ron to pick up the unconscious Weasley, Snape lead them all into the next room, where they all took turns flooing back to the Headquarter of the Phoenix.

It was going to be a long day.