A/N: This is TWINCEST people (there's a reason for the R rating, you know). Got issues? Then you'd better be a rich kid so you can pay for the therapy. Seriously, don't like it, don't read it. It's the handy freedom of choice thing. Utilise it.

In other news, I'm experimenting with brackets at the moment. Let me know how it goes.

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They were the only ones who could tell each other apart (except for mum, but she expelled them from her body in bloody gasps, so that's to be expected.)

They still are. Ron thinks he can, and Percy *knows* he can, but they're all wrong (except when they make lucky guesses and Fred smiles and says 'Don't be ridiculous. I'm George. Isn't it obvious?' and they fall over themselves to apologise, never realising that this is the way it *should* be.)

Together alone, shoulder to shoulder, they defy the world to categorise them (except sometimes, when George thinks it might be nice to be a whole, not a half.)

And their defiance made flesh, slipslide of bodies in heated rooms, is perfect and right (except it isn't.)