Chapter Text
It was morning. Summer air and buttery light entered the room through an open window, kissing the edge of a quilted bedspread. Fred and George Weasley lay beneath it, enfolded warmly against one another. One of the brothers opened his eyes just barely, but his vision was taken up by his twin’s red hair framed fiercely golden against the sun. He closed them again. The other shifted closer and made a deep and contented sound. Nothing was calling them to rise from this place, not yet. It was their bed, in their house, on their own chosen path.
Fred and George had purchased a rather decrepit emporium on the corner of Number 93, Diagon Alley. The building carried the rich scent of dust, soot, and possibility. They owed a very dear friend of theirs a good amount of Galleons, but it seemed quite likely to all parties involved that the investment would be returned with interest. Above the shopfront, which at present lay empty and waiting for renovation, was the modest flat which the boys now lived in. It had been neglected and unfurnished when they arrived, but it had felt at once like home.
That first evening, they spread out their robes on the unswept floor and laid upon them; planning and laughing and eating Chocolate Cauldrons until they were giddy on the Firewhiskey encased within. They’d opened every window they’d found to let in the night air, warmer here than in the highlands like they were used to. Despite the late hour, the street was still alive with chatter and activity and the sound filled up their apartment like good company.
It took just one day of inviolable privacy for the boys to test the final boundary between them. Each had felt that hidden temptation, each had experienced the weak knees and the trembling belly that came with it - it was only a question of seeing where it had led. There was no conversation, no confrontation. That very night, instinct and desire was their guide.
Fred made a joke that was just a bit too much at his brother’s expense, and in another moment they were rollicking about unrestrained on the hardwood. George tried to make a retort but he was silenced with a messy kiss. It made him dizzier than the liquor had. They landed in a heap of jumbled limbs, and without remembering moving it there, George found his hand buried deep between his brother’s legs. Fred gave a sound unlike any he had made before, and it brought an astounding heat to the surface of George’s skin. He sunk his face into his brother’s collar and the increasingly coarse sound of his breath pulled at his insides. He tugged at his twin's belt and he found his brother’s hands there helping him, clumsy with need. He touched his brother at last, both of them shaking and breathless and wanting and suddenly that final uncrossable border had been dashed.
Come morning, there was no shame and there was no secrecy. They joked openly about the affair, made their feelings and their desires known through the easy safety of casual banter. They each knew that the other wanted to take it further. They each knew that they had time to approach it.
Yes, they had time at last. Time to learn about themselves and one another, time to answer challenging questions, time to mourn the difficulties they had faced to arrive here. Time also to craft a heavily biased story in their own favor when their mother heard that they had deserted hogwarts in a parade of fireworks before the term was up. She had scheduled a visit to come and scrutinize their decisions and their living conditions and they were actually looking forward to it. It was this morning, after enough nights spent peacefully and without consequence together that George had stopped counting them, in which she was arriving.
Fred opened his eyes again. George had shifted, and he lay facing the ceiling with his eyes closed and lips parted. Fred watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, grinning beneath half-lidded eyes. When he could not help reaching out and touching the edge of his jawline, George stirred. His eyelashes fluttered, and he looked over at his twin. He smiled.
“Hello, Freddie,” he murmured, his voice still thick with sleep. Fred returned the grin, and didn’t retract his hand.
“‘Ey, Georgie?” he prompted.
“Yeah, mate?” asked George, settling back and shutting his eyes again.
“I think I might fancy you,” said Fred.
“That’s mental, mate, I’m your brother,” George mumbled back. Fred felt a peal of laughter bubbling up, and made no effort to keep the levity out of his voice.
“ C’mere, you,” he said, clambering over top of his brother and kissing him on the forehead. George chortled and put his hands against Fred’s shoulders in mock-protest, but his lips traveled down to his cheek to his neck, and George melted . Fred continued to kiss deeper still as George reached upwards and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Fred’s hands searched under the quilt for bare skin, which he found at once under his twin’s nightshirt. He pushed upwards just to hear the sound his brother would make, and was just shifting his other hand into the warm space beneath George’s upper thigh when -
- Knock knock knock knock knock.
“ Frederick Gideon Weasley! George, I know you’re in there too!” Their mother’s voice was unmistakable. They both paused and tried very hard not to laugh.
“Boy, her voice carries doesn’t it?” Fred remarked, collapsing facedown over his brother’s shoulder.
“Well you heard her, mate,” George returned, “She’s called you - get up already.”
“Called you too.”
“Not my full name, which means-”
“George Fabian Weasley ! I’m opening the door if you don’t do it for me!”
This time, they couldn’t help laughing and they tossed the quilt to the floor, jumping rambunctiously out of bed.
“Hold on, Mum!” Fred called out close to an open window. They each pulled on a jumper over their sleepwear, but did not bother to dress otherwise. They appeared at the front entrance barefoot, disheveled and beaming, each fighting to take up space in the doorframe.
“Boys!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, her voice high and incredulous.
“Mum!” The boys returned in unison. She made the face she always did just before reprimanding them, (A deep breath accompanied with a subtle turn of the chin,) but then just sighed and pulled them both into a firm hug.
“You had me worried. And have you any idea how off his head your father’s been?” She lamented, parting just enough that she could switch eye contact from one to the other. “Come on now, let me in, let’s see the place.”
Promptly and without permission, she squeezed between them and into the empty parlor. Fred wore a benign grin, and George shut the door with care. Molly stood with her arms akimbo, looking about herself as if studying a difficult puzzle.
“Well!” She exclaimed aloud. “This really is something, isn’t it? Fred dear, take my coat, won’t you?” She gestured correctly to Fred who glanced first at his twin and then at his mother.
“We don’t exactly have tea to offer you, Mum,” he said.
“Or biscuits,” George added.
“Nonsense, boys, nonsense,” Molly insisted, handing Fred her coat without waiting for him to accept it. “We’re going to have a proper chat whether or not there’s a sofa to have it on.” Fred relented, still smiling. He linked elbows with his brother, and led Molly Weasley up the stairs.
✦✧✦✧
Piece by piece, everything came together. A fraying settee to put in front of the fire, A set of mahogany display tables on which to feature their newest goods, a four poster bed with a warm patchwork quilt, a beautiful sign with a shining brass inlay that read Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. It was the start of their career, and the start of their lives together as well. In that first summer they received visits from both parents, (with even Percy coming by on ministry business to ensure the building was up to regulation standard,) which were amicable and reassuring. When they suggested that they host a Weasley Reunion right there at the shop, Molly had suggested that they furnish the place or she wouldn’t even tell their siblings where they had set up. It was all the better for them, though, as they wanted to give the most striking first impression they could.
It was August, and they were both hoping that the annual school supply run to Diagon Alley would bring their family to their doorstep. They sat upstairs in front of their fireplace, sharing the pumpkin juice and pie that George had brought home from the Hopping Pot. It was nearing the date for their Grand Opening, and they’d been incredibly busy preparing inventory for sale. Twice already they had failed to correctly apply a duplicating charm, and had to do away with heaps of inert product. They had also suffered a magical explosion when brewing an experimental Perfuming Potion which made the wearer smell like their own Grandmother for a week, and the flat still reeked of lavender. They were both exhausted and incredibly fulfilled.
Without speaking, Fred reached across to George and took his hand by the fingertips. George turned his hand in kind and squeezed his brother’s palm snugly.
“I love you, George,” Fred said in a hushed tone. George blinked once. After all this time, it still made his heart jump to hear it. He pulled his brother’s hand upwards and kissed it. .
“I love you too, Freddie. Always will,” he answered. Fred hummed a gratified sigh, looking into the fire. After a moment’s silence, he asked,
“Are we putting anything on when Mum and all show up?” George laughed in anticipation of his own joke.
“Well Fred, I bloody well hope we’re decent enough to put on clothes when we’ve guests over.”
“You git,” Fred said at once, smiling.
“Do you actually want a thoughtful answer to that?” George continued, leaning over until their shoulders touched.
“If you can manage that,” Fred replied, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. George sighed and went quiet to think.
“No,” he said, rubbing a thumb over his brother’s knuckles and furrowing his brow subtly, “I don’t think we ought to, Fred.” He leaned until his cheek nestled against his brother’s shoulder. “This isn’t … going anywhere, afterall.”
“No,” Fred said with a gentle chuckle. “It’s really not.” George felt his emotions creeping up on him. He felt grateful that he was here, with his best friend and partner, free from obligation and skepticism. He felt overwhelmed with love, for Fred, for their family, and for life. He felt tickled by the swelling sense of adventure that arose when he considered what their future might hold. He smiled to himself, because he knew what would put his brother at ease.
“Don’t worry, love,” he said, “We’ll just be ourselves.”
“And after that?” Fred asked. George met his brother’s eye, and hid none of the fondness that he felt.
“Do you want to just see where this goes?”