Author: BobbleHeadJesus PM
It's easier to be someone else. To tell one lie that turns into another, which turns into another, which turns into something so messy it can never be undone. HPGW some HPFW, graphic lemony MMRated: Fiction M - English - Romance - George W. & Harry P. - Chapters: 13 - Words: 42,262 - Reviews: 89 - Favs: 164 - Follows: 21 - Updated: 03-10-09 - Published: 12-30-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4754238
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
It was nearly three in the morning when George watched Harry and his brother stumble into the Gryffindor common room. He was sitting on a sofa chair in front of the fireplace; the fire had dwindled into nothingness an hour ago, but there was still warmth radiating from the ashes. It was dark, and none of the light of the windows fell on his face.
Fred had one arm around Harry's waist, the other holding a bottle of something. George guessed it was Fire Whiskey. Harry was laughing drunkenly and shoving at Fred; not enough to push him off, but enough that the redhead tipped precariously backwards before rocking forward on his feet.
He used the momentum to push Harry against the wall, and grinned lasciviously. The wall was illuminated with the light from the full moon outside, and it gave George a fairly clear view of the two. Fred said something, softly, into Harry's ear, and the boy laughed.
"You're a wanker," Harry whispered noisily and then snorted with laughter. Fred grinned again and brought his face close to Harry's, brushing his nose against the younger boy's cheek.
It must have tickled Harry, because he continued to laugh, more insistently now, writhing away from Fred's face and the hands resting lightly on his hips.
"You're pissed," Fred exclaimed, feigning shock.
"Fuck you!" Harry was laughing as he said it, his hands on Fred. But he wasn't pushing him away anymore, simply running his hands over the taller boy's chest and neck, up into his ginger hair.
George did nothing to make his presence known, but sat back further in his chair. It was the first time he'd caught his twin with a boy. He'd known, of course; how could he not? What Fred could hide from everyone else, even their mother, he could not hide from George.
And when Fred came back to the dorms after lights out, reeking of whiskey and a scent George associated with bed sheets and centerfolds, it hadn't been difficult to figure out what was going on. But he was curious just the same. Who was his brother seeing? What was so appealing about another boy?
Three months of Fred's bleary eyed mornings and late nights were all George could stand before he'd resolved to stake-out the common room to catch his brother. He'd brought a blanket and a book down at half past one, but hadn't bothered to read, simply watching the fire until it went out, and then the night sky out the nearest window.
He'd been guessing who it would be. He knew who it wasn't: any of the boys in their dorm. It probably wasn't a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin: Fred found the former dull and the latter disgusting, same as George. Hufflepuff was possible, but not entirely likely: they were better targets than playmates.
But, of all the blokes in Hogwarts, Harry was the last George had figured to be queer. And yet, there he was, one of Fred's legs between his, moving slowly.
It did not make George entirely sick to watch his brother whisper dirty things against Harry's throat, making him laugh and breathe heavy and shy away from the tickling lips and breath.
"Stop, stop," Harry begged, still giggling.
"Oh! Alright, didn't realize you didn't like it." Fred's teeth were nearly blinding in the moonlight as he grinned and pulled his leg back.
"Don't be such a twat," Harry said with another giddy laugh, and his body seemed to move forward toward Fred. It took a moment for George to realize in the dark that he was bucking his hips toward Fred's. He swallowed and averted his eyes for a moment.
"Then don't be such a woman!" Fred's voice was mocking, and George recognized the tone as the one he used while dangling toys over their younger siblings' heads. It drew his eyes back to the two teens.
He could see Fred's hand move to Harry's side and begin tickling him lightly. Harry made a yelping noise before twisting his body to one side and laughing again, this time trying to hush himself.
"I don't understand why you're going on like this. Honestly, Harry, all I'm trying to do is kiss you and you just keep wriggling away." This made Harry laugh even harder.
"Then bloody quit it!" Harry was leaning fully against the wall, giggling and flushed.
"You don't like this?" Fred asked, tilting his face and tickling Harry again. The smaller boy simply laughed and shook his head. "What about this?" His hand moved lower, fingertips spread lightly across the denim of Harry's jeans.
George was nearly shocked at how abruptly their demeanor changed. Fred's voice was lower now, more intimate, in way that George only ever heard when his twin was upset. Harry stopped laughing wildly and was breathing heavily.
George could not see what was happening, but he heard a zip come undone, and he tried to crane his neck. Momentarily, he stopped, ashamed of his curiosity. He knew it was wrong to spy on Fred; they'd both wandered too far into each others' personal lives on occasion, and it usually ended in a row. But as he watched Harry's chin rise and his hands press flat against the wall, he told himself that Fred owed him the truth,
"I like that." Harry's voice was so soft that George could barely hear it.
"You're such a slag."
"You've not got twenty quid to give me," Harry said with a little giggle, and Fred laughed too.
"I've got no fucking clue what you just said." Fred was still laughing as he shifted to one side. When he moved, George got a clear view between the two.
Fred's hand was buried in Harry's pants, working slowly and rhythmically.
"I said that if you give me twenty Muggle notes I'll suck you." Harry's voice was lilting, slurred, and sounded extremely self-satisfied. George's ears went red and he felt something hot in his belly flip over.
"You did not," Fred laughed softly into Harry's ear, arm still moving his hand in Harry's trousers. Harry grinned and tittered when Fred's mouth kissed at his throat. "Anyway, I've not even got twenty Knuts," Fred admitted, and his teeth flashed in the moonlight as he bit Harry's skin, then licked it languidly and pressed his mouth to it.
"Then maybe I'll pay you to suck me," Harry said, and the hot thing in George's stomach moved lower.
"Baby, you can't afford me." Fred's voice was low and seductive, and it surprised George when Harry laughed.
"What, I can't afford the price of a cuppa tea?" Harry laughed, and then gasped. George jumped slightly and craned his neck to see.
Fred was sucking on Harry's ear, hand still moving steadily. It was silent in the room for a few seconds, but for Harry's heavy breaths, a soft wet noise, and the rustling of fabric.
"Is it my turn, or yours?" Harry's voice was breathless, and George could hear the shudder of his body in his words.
"If you have to ask then it's mine," Fred replied, and Harry made a dissatisfied noise. Then he arched his back when Fred tugged sharply at his ear.
"Kiss me." It was soft and pleading, and when it came from Harry's lips, the speed with which Fred moved made it obvious that he could not say no to the younger boy when he asked like that.
It was difficult for George to watch for a moment as the boys kissed. He wondered if it was like kissing a girl, for a moment. It was so intimate that he was a bit disgusted with himself for intruding. But when Harry's hand moved to the front of Fred's trousers and massaged his groin gently, George forgot everything else.
Harry broke the kiss and whispered, "I think it's my turn." Fred nodded quickly, but their faces were so close, so shadowed, that George could not see his expression.
"You're so fucking hot," Fred moaned softly and George watched as Harry, pleased, undid the zipper of his brother's pants and pulled his erection out. Fred mimicked the action on Harry, and at the sight of Harry's cock, George's mouth went dry.
He shifted uncomfortably when the two boys began rubbing their dicks together, an angry feeling welling up inside of him. Suddenly he wanted to stand up and yell at them for acting so foolishly in Gryffindor tower. Instead, he managed to stay seated and watch as Harry kissed Fred, their hands stroking in tandem.
"How do you want it?" Harry asked the older boy, pulling their mouths apart.
George gagged. It was disgusting, his brother acting like a fool, pressed against Harry and breathing hard, grinding his hips against the other teen.
"Do it against the wall." Fred's voice sounded ragged, like he'd been running. He was pressing Harry against the wall so fiercely that George couldn't even see Harry anymore. It almost looked like Fred was alone until he leaned his head forward and to one side, kissing the side of Harry's throat again.
Fred began kissing lower, unbuttoning Harry's shirt as he went. Harry was giggling again suddenly as the kisses dusted over his stomach. He looked down at the top of Fred's head.
Furiously, George shifted in the chair. Harry had no right to treat his twin like a slut. It was downright sickening, and he had a good mind to embarrass them all by announcing his presence and telling them to quit before he told the whole of Gryffindor.
And then Harry was looking at him. George's breath froze and he stiffened as he reminded himself that there was almost no way the boy could see him in the dim lighting. But Harry was frowning and knitting his brow, craning his face forward to peer into the dark.
"Hey, Fred, wait, I –" Harry started to say before gasping sharply and letting out a short bark of laughter. His head lolled backwards and his mouth fell open, eyes closing. Wondering what saved him from discovery, George's eyes moved down.
Fred's head was level with Harry's groin, his jaw open and working. His hands were on Harry's hips, holding him against the wall.
"You… just… don't wanna be on bottom," Harry panted, one of his hands moving to bury itself in Fred's hair.
George hated Harry.
There was a wet slurping noise and Fred stood up and was kissing Harry again.
"Just coz I let you put your cock in my mouth doesn't mean you can put your words in there too." Fred turned and leaned against the wall next to Harry.
"I'll put whatever I want in your mouth," Harry retorted, spinning and pinning the taller boy to the wall.
God, he hated Harry so fucking much.
"Big talk for a little boy," Fred replied with a snort.
Harry fell to his knees abruptly and moved toward Fred's crotch. Fred's breath stopped, and he could hear Harry moan as he bobbed his head slowly in front of Fred's hips.
"Give me your hand," Fred panted, and his hips thrust into Harry's mouth. Harry obediently lifted one hand, and Fred pulled his wand out of his pocket and tapped it against his palm.
There was a soft squelching noise and Harry's palm was suddenly shining and wet-looking in the moonlight. Harry brought his hand back down to his own groin and worked his hand a few times as Fred pulled his trousers down until they were around his thighs.
"Hurry up," Fred whispered and his words caught in his throat as Harry make a loud slurping noise and his cheeks sucked in tightly.
As livid and repulsed as he was, George could not shake off the curiosity, and he watched in rapt fascination as Harry pulled his hand back and moved it between Fred's legs. He could not see where Harry's hand had gone, but he saw Fred grit his teeth and fist Harry's hair in his hands. His legs spread wider apart, and he grunted softly.
George had to pull his attention back as Harry thrust his hand between his twin brother's legs, making the redhead exhale sharply and tilt his head back. It was getting a little too intense in the room, and there was something distinctly upsetting about watching his brother get fingered. George tried to think as loudly as he could, in an attempt to block out Fred's grunt of pleasure.
As the younger boy got back on his feet and turned Fred to face the wall, George was able to look back, his brother's face hidden from him. Harry was only barely visible as he kissed the back of Fred's neck, saying something so soft that George could only hear snippets of.
"…want it?..." Fred moaned so quietly that it almost sounded like a whine. "…for me… …Freckles… …want you…" As he was murmuring into Fred's ear, Harry pulled a footrest over and stood on it, elevating himself several inches so that their hips were level.
And George could see it, see it sliding inside of his brother, and he felt so horrible he thought he would be sick all over the floor.
Fuck Harry. That little prick didn't deserve any of them, not Ron, not Fred, not Ginny, not the Weasley family as a whole.
For several long, agonizing minutes, there was quiet in the room. The soft slap of skin, Harry's pants, Fred's heavy breathing and low grunts… it was all George had to not scream at them to stop.
His teeth clamped down on his tongue and he could taste the coppery heat of his own blood. He stared at the back of Harry's head, hating him.
Fred cried out, as if in pain, and George started to stand up, hand going for his wand. Immediately though, he stilled himself, embarrassed, as he realized that his brother's cry was turning into a soft pleased groan.
Harry inhaled sharply and his whole body went rigid. His exhalation was stuttered and slow, as if letting the air out of his lungs would end him.
The two boys collapsed on the wall, Harry clinging to Fred's back. They were both breathing harshly.
"I… think I'm falling in love with you," Fred whispered between pants.
Harry laughed breathily and buried his face in the nape of Fred's neck. Slowly Fred turned around and Harry loosened his arms to let him.
George decided in that second that if Harry did not say it back, he would knock the shit out of him. He'd get him alone and beat him until his skin was pulp.
"You're a nutter." Harry leaned in close to Fred and lay his head on the older boy's shoulder, closing his eyes. That was it: George was going to thrash him into next week.
"You're a drunkard," Fred retorted. He clearly did not feel the betrayal that George did.
"Your drunkard," Harry corrected him.
"Mine," Fred agreed, lifting one hand to pet at Harry's head. "What shall I do with my alcoholic? Keep him under my bed? Lend him out to my brother? Make him do my homework?"
"Take him to bed with you." Harry rubbed his face against Fred's shirt.
"Mm," Fred agreed. "Ickle Ronniekins will miss you if I do that."
"That's not very nice." Fred's tone was reprimanding, but he was smiling, eyes closed.
George wished he had a bucket of ice water to dump on them.
"You come to mine then."
"You know how George is."
No, George did NOT know how George is. But he was certainly interested in hearing what they had to say now.
"Sod George too," Harry snorted.
"You shagging all my brothers?" Fred asked, grinning above Harry's head.
"Only the ones with red hair," Harry replied, yawning.
Harry Potter could go fuck himself.
"Go on to your kip now." Fred gently kissed Harry's head and nudged him.
"Stay with me tonight." Harry was begging, in that small desperate voice again, and George's throat closed when Fred sighed wearily.
"You even gonna remember this in the morning?" he asked. "Is it gonna be like last time?"
"No!" Harry protested.
"Your mouth says no, but your liver says, yes, yes YES!" Fred declared, kissing Harry's forehead. "Go on."
"Before I lose my willpower." George could hear the impatience in his twin's voice.
Fred leaned forward and kissed Harry. George closed his eyes. He'd seen more than enough for one night. It was just gratuitous now. Having his eyes closed magnified the sounds in the room and he could hear Fred whisper.
"Let's meet tomorrow. In the room near the passage to Hogsmeade."
"What if I don't remember?" Harry demanded, his voice slurring, and Fred chuckled.
"Here, I'll write it on your hand."
There was soft shuffling, the sound of pants being zipped up, kissing, whispers of farewells, then more kisses, firmer farewells, even more kissing… George wanted to tell them to just bloody well get on with it. Gits.
When he opened his eyes finally, the room was empty. He got to his feet slowly, wincing and stretching. His legs were almost completely cramped up, one leg numb. He hobbled and limped around the common room for a few minutes until the tingling in his leg stopped and he was able to walk normally.
He crept up to Harry and Ron's dorm room, opening the door as quietly as he could and peeking inside. The boys were asleep; Neville was snoring loudly. Harry had already passed out, drooling on his pillow. George sneaked up to the side of Harry's bed and looked at the palm of his left hand, sprawled over the pillow.
Our Room – 4:00
George had no clue what they were talking about. He'd certainly never seen a door in the hallway; only the armored statue. Nevertheless, he pulled his wand out and tapped Harry's palm once.
Now it read:
Our Room – 4:45
He straightened and swiftly left the room, shutting the door behind him. Part of him wanted to march straight back into the room and start smacking the shit out of Harry right then and there… but then Fred and Ron would find out about it, and Harry wouldn't even be sober enough to understand why he was doing it.
When he got back to his dorm, Fred's toothbrush was dangling out of his mouth as he was unlacing and yanking off his shoes.
"What're you doing up?" he demanded, sitting up and looking reproachfully at George. "You're never out this late."
"What's it to you?" George retorted, yanking his shirt off over his head.
"I dunno." Fred shrugged. He looked a little nervous. "Just wanted to know what you got up to."
"Ah. Not Hogsmeade then."
"No." George yanked a nightshirt on over his head and didn't look at Fred as he sat down to pull his shoes and socks off.
"Something wrong?" Fred asked, standing as he resumed brushing his teeth. George shook his head shortly and pulled his pants off.
"And you? Where you been?" George stood and pulled on his pajama pants.
"Town," Fred said shortly.
"Dunno. Mess of mates."
Turning to him, George glanced around the room meaningfully. "Our mates are all asleep."
Irritably, Fred shrugged. "I've got other friends."
"I dunno. Not really friends, I guess. Didn't know their names. Hufflepuffs or something." Fred tossed the toothbrush to one side and went to the window to spit out the extra toothpaste.
George heard him lie down and pull the covers over himself. He got into his own bed and stared at the ceiling for a minute.
Then, lowly, so he wouldn't wake up Lee, he said, "Y'know, you really ought to be more careful who you decide to trust." He looked at Fred.
Fred's eyes were closed and his mouth was hanging open gently, sound asleep.
George sighed and angrily looked back up at the ceiling.
Fuck the Hufflepuffs, and the Ravenclaws, and the Slytherins, and the Gryffindors, and fuck the whole school.
Frustrated and furious, George sat up and pulled the curtains on his four poster bed closed. He lay down, back toward Fred's side of the room and stared at the curtain. The night replayed in his mind.
He found that the more he thought about it, the more livid he became. And the more livid he became, the harder the blood pounded through his body. His fists shook and he wanted to scream, and his dick got hard, and his eyes burned.
At this rate, he'd never fall asleep. When it evolved into something that was just too enormous for him to handle, he took a deep breath and rolled onto his back.
His hand slipped into his pajama pants and he touched himself carelessly. Just a brief wank. Anything to relax. Getting this angry was just useless.
His hand wrapped around his cock and stroked it a few times, slowly unwinding his anger.
Come to think of it, he didn't really understand why he was so mad about the whole thing. Fred could make his own decisions; they were two separate people with very obviously different prerogatives.
If Fred liked Harry… if he didn't mind getting treated like crap, then that was his business.
George held his breath and began jerking on his dick harder.
OR maybe his brother didn't know any better and he owed it to him to save him from Harry's touches, his soft pleading voice, his long spidery fingers and his cheeks flushed with liquor, his wet red lips, his panting breaths, his soft laughter, his overly invasive cock…
Closing his eyes and swallowing, George ejaculated onto his own stomach. He let the air out that he had been holding and tried to catch his breath quietly.
That was weird.
Grabbing his wand, he cleaned himself off, fighting off the panic that seemed to want to settle in his mind.
He was fairly certain he wouldn't be sleeping much tonight.