As George entered him, Oliver moaned with longing. He had always fancied George a little bit, always wondered what it would feel like. He had to try it, be it just once. Just this once.

He woke up with a start. His whole body was aching and his head felt as though it was going to split in two. He looked around, but the room was blurry. He didn't recognise it. Where was he?

But as soon as the thought entered his mind, he had to discard it. It was making his head hurt to think right now. He looked instead next to himself, and saw a red headed figure lying in the sheets beside him.

Percy, he thought with a small smile. Relief washed over him as he watched the tall men breathe peacefully.

What happened last night? He didn't seem to remember very much. He had gotten very drunk. And before that… He went to the Quidditch match, the Harpies were playing and he wanted to see their new beater in action. And then he met-

He sat up in bed as realisation washed over him. Oh no. He thought, hysterically. Oh no, no, no, please let it not be true.

He looked again at the figure beside him. It wasn't Percy. It was his younger brother, George Weasley.

Oliver looked around the room again. They seemed to be in Fred and George's flat in Diagon Alley, above their shop.

George grunted in his sleep and slowly opened his eyes.

"Ggggh," he mumbled. Then he spotted Oliver. "Morning," he said with grin on his face.

Oliver flushed. "What… What… What happened last night?" he choked out. "I mean… what am I doing here?"

George looked up at him. "Don't you remember?"

"No. I can't remember anything."

"We've both been to the match. We've met afterwards in the pub, and you kept getting us drinks."

Oliver stared at him. "But why am I here? In a bed with you? What did… II mean, did we…?" he trailed off.

"Yeah," said George. "I thought you wanted this."

"What?! No! I am with Percy! Why would you think I'd want…?"

"Geez, chill. He doesn't need to know. Besides, you are the one who invited himself into our apartment."

"I… What?" Oliver stammered.

"You were really hammered last night, weren't you?"

"But… Why would you even want to do this? I mean, you aren't even gay, are you?"

"No," George conceded. "But I've always had a bit of a crush on you when we were at school. You were a damn good Quidditch player."

"Oh is that all?" Oliver was angry now. "Jesus-fucking-Christ, George! I am dating your brother! We have a real thing going on, it's not like this is a game or something!"

"Stop acting like I'm the only one responsible, Oliver! We were both present last night, and it's not like I drugged you or anything, you did seem quite willing then, you know!"

A voice from the other room stopped their heated discussion. "George? Who are you shouting at?"

And a moment later, the door opened.

"Oliver?" Fred was standing in the doorway, his mouth hanging open. "What are you doing here?"

"It's not what it looks like!" Oliver hurtled out of bed, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.

"Oh yeah?" Fred furrowed his eyebrows. "And what does it look like, Oliver?"

"It looks like we've slept together."

"Which you haven't?" asked Fred, looking more confused than ever.

"We have, but…"

"Does Percy know you are here?"

Oliver didn't need to reply. The pained look on his face was more than a confession to Fred. He gave him a disgusted look and walked out of the room, leaving the door wide open.