A/N: This is my first fic in a very, very long time, and my first Weasley twin fic overall. Slightly AU. While both twins are heavily involved in the story, this is George-centric. The rating is a safety for later chapters, when there is much confusion over identity and love-type stuff. This first chapter is short and a bit OC, but then, George has not been really explored in the books. In this story, they look like the Phelps twins in GoF: tall with long red hair. Also, this story takes place during the summer between GoF and OotP. Oh, and the Weasleys will not be heading off to Grimmauld Place until near the end of summer.

Enjoy and review, perdy please.

Fred and George Weasley. Gred and Forge. The Weasley Twins. The twins.

George Weasley laid on his bed, chin in his hands as he leaned up on his elbows and stared out at the starry sky overhead. It was his first night back at the Burrow after finishing up what had been his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Fred was snoring already.

Sometimes George wondered if he snored when he was asleep.

He appreciated quiet moments like these, when he got them. They were very few and far between when you lived in a house filled with Weasleys. George was the fifth of seven, and he could not remember a time in his life when the house was this quiet without everyone being asleep. There was always shouting and explosions interspersed with hooting owls and flying cereal during waking hours.

Life hadn't quieted any after Bill and Charlie left. In fact, it hadn't changed at all. And there had definitely been no change when Percy left, except that the only one really harping on the twins was their mother.

He sighed and allowed his chin to sink into his pillow. He turned his head just enough to glance over at Fred, who was sprawled over his bed in a position that one would associate with torture, rather than sleep. His snoring faded in and out as he rolled over and nearly fell off of his bed. Fred was as dangerous asleep as he was awake.

It was when he watched Fred sleep that George allowed himself to grow introspective. He wasn't sure why that was, but it was.

He imagined what he would have been like if he had been born as a single. Would he have been as keen on pranks? How could he have existed without someone to finish his sentences? He disliked thinking about life without Fred, but sometimes the thought crept into his head, unwelcome and irritating.

The truth was, George knew, that the world saw them as one person. There was no distinction between the two. Sometimes even George got confused when they played the switching game. But that was when they were performing, not when they were alone.

He called it that: performing. Fred and George never cried, or were sorry, or even fell in love. They were always loud, boisterous, flirtatious, and sarcastic. Fred was the leader; he wrote the scene. George spell-checked; he was the sidekick. He said nothing when he thought Fred was out of line. Instead, he followed suit. The only time he had disagreed with his twin was just a few months before, when Fred had wanted to blackmail Ludo Bagman.

He looked over at Fred, whose hair was a shaggy mess, identical to his own, his pinstripe pajamas wrinkled and worn. He loved Fred dearly; he was his other half. He knew perfectly well that he could not function without him, and vice versa. They finished each other's sentences, worked out the kinks in each other's plans, and were the best of friends.

But sometimes George wished that somebody would notice that he had a small scar in his hairline that Fred didn't. Or that Fred had a mole on his neck that George didn't. Or maybe that George's voice was deeper and that Fred knotted his shoelaces five times each.

But nobody ever would, and while there was a tiny part of him that was angered by that, there was a part of him that took comfort in it. If they were almost impossible to tell apart, it wasn't the end of the world. George knew, when the audience of the day was gone and the night took over, they were two different people.

And as long as he knew that, it would be okay.

With that, he drifted into dreams of winning a quidditch match and Alicia Spinnet congratulating him with a kiss.

He didn't snore.