It was dark outside. It was very late. Why wasn't I asleep in bed? Worry had got the best of me. The most important person in my world wasn't well.
It was basically because I, Fred Weasley, was a bloody obsessive stalker.
It wasn't my fault that my twin had, in the last week, suddenly decided to develop a serious case of insomnia. He had up and bloody walked out of our dorm instead of hopping in bed with me to sleep for a bloody week. It had left me in something of a jilted disposition, to say the least. His affinity for prowling had forced me to go sleepless as well, you see. I couldn't sleep in the same bed as a guy - platonically, get your mind out of the bloody gutter! - every night for seventeen years and then be comfortable without!
So George, nutty bastard that he was, walked around the lake, of all things. Why that was so interesting to him I'll never know. I wasn't even sure that he did find it interesting - all I knew was that something was emotionally upsetting him. But, since I wasn't so unfeeling as to out his little issues in the middle of the Halloween Feast and he was using our usual talk-it-over time to sneak around, I hadn't the faintest idea of the cause. Hell, I didn't even know when he slept.
Now I waited for him to return. He had to, at some point, right? It was inching past three in the morning and even the coals of the common room's fire had gone out. Suddenly, without a doubt, I knew that George was on the other side of the portrait door. I sunk down in my armchair, but there was no way that he didn't know that I was in the next room. He hesitated for a long moment, decided that I already knew he was there, and clambered into the common room to come face-to-face with me. I could actually feel him decide.
"Morning, George," I said, more cheerily than I would have liked. He flinched at the threatened sarcasm. "Had a nice turn about the lake, I hope? The squid's not eaten anyone we know, has it?"
"Fred," he started in an apologizing tone.
"Funny thing," I mowed him down, "I can't even remember a time when we went more than a day without talking at least once. But look at us, going for a world record, you would think."
"Fred, I'm sorry. It's something that I need to get through by myself."
"Meaning that you can't tell your twin, who knows you better than himself." He closed his eyes, and I could feel…heartbreak. It had to do with love. "Who do you like, then?"
"I can't tell you, Fred." His eyes begged me not to ask.
"So it's definitely someone I know." He didn't deny, which meant that I was right. I thought about it for a moment. "Someone at the school, but that's obvious. Not someone randomly picked out of a crowd, though, because you know that I wouldn't tell a soul. It's someone that you think will make me mad."
"More likely someone in Gryffindor. A mutual friend, but that's no help; we have all the same friends to begin with. On the Quidditch team, mayhap? Angelina?" His eyes said no. "Katie?" No dice. I studied his face. "A thought occurs. Is it not a girl?"
And now he looked as though the world as he knew it was over. Bingo.
I sighed. "So you're gay. Did we really need to do this Inquisition to find this out?"
"Fred." He obviously had no idea what he wanted to say.
"Who is it? Or will you still not tell me?" Silence. "I don't hate you, George, and you know it. Just so you know, I like a guy, too." He stared at me. I shrugged, stood up, and headed toward the stairs to the dorm. I was on the third step before he mumbled something.
"I love you."
I stuck my head back in the room quizzically. "I love you, too."
"No, I love you. As in, I shouldn't love you this much."
"Oh." I thought about it for a moment. "Well, I'm going up to bed. Come on, you've got to be tired."
He did a slow double-take. "Did you hear me?"
"Yeah. Hurry up, I can't sleep unless you're here." I went up the stairs quickly. George loved me. Huh. That was something I had only prayed for for better than six years!
I changed into my pajamas quickly and hopped into bed before my twin had even come in the room. I lay very still as he rummaged in his trunk for his nightclothes, found them under my bed, and put them on. He took and audible breath, held it, and let it out before pulling aside the curtains and climbing into bed with me. I let him get comfortable, as much as was possible under the circumstances, and then wrapped my arms around his upper torso. He stopped breathing for a moment, then relaxed minutely.
Could tell that he was almost asleep within seconds. I moved a little, to be level with his eyes. In the darkness, I sensed, rather than felt, that his eyes opened. Slowly, I leaned forward until I could feel his breath against my lips. I silently closed the distance between us.
It was warm. It wasn't heated. It was soft, and careful, and he never even responded. I stopped, and pulled my head back. "George?"
He breathed out painfully slowly. "What was that?"
"I already told I love you. Haven't you heard? I say it every day, it's in every smile, every glance at you, every time I touch you. You, who are the other part of my soul. I love you." The words came out in a rush.
He was silent for a moment. Then, he leaned forward and this time we both contributed to a more passionate kiss. "I'm sorry I never heard you, Fred…"
My twin in heart and mind and soul
We are two parts that make a whole
Without you I am dull and dead
Together we shall press ahead
Separation is death
We share one breath
My twin, sent from above…
You are my only love.