The Rose Amongst Daisies
For Fred.
Five years after the death of Fredrick Gideon Weasley, his twin brother sat in the living room of the house he now shared with his Wife, Angelina Johnson and their three year old son named after George Fabian Weasley's deceased twin.
He sat in a comfortable armchair, his son curled in his lap as he read him stories from an old and battered copy of The Tales Of Beedle The Bard he and the rest of the Weasley children had enjoyed as youngsters. On this particular night he read the tale of the wizard and the hopping pot, which had been a favourite of the Weasley twins when they were children. Perhaps some would consider this story to be some of their inspiration for the devilish way in which the boys used to act.
"Papa, can we read it again?" The little boy looked up into George's eyes, the Hazel eyes reflecting his own and the shock of burnt orange hair matching his. "Again? But we've already read this story twice tonight… I think you should go to bed before your mother lectures us." A small smile broke on his face and a slight swell of pride welled within him as his son giggled mischievously. "Just one more time?" He pleaded in a slightly whiney voice. "Oh alright but don't tell your mother." He sighed and began flicking through the pages to find the beginning of the story. "Don't tell me what?" A female voice called from behind him and George glanced over his shoulder to find his wife stood by the door wearing a long white gown which contrasted her ebony skin. "C'mon Fred, it's bedtime." She called to the boy who pouted childishly and reluctantly got off his father's lap. George sighed lightly and leant forward. "Are you going to kiss me goodnight then?" He asked the child who turned and pressed his lips to his fathers cheek and wrapped his arms around his neck, hugging him as tight as he could. He held the boy close for a brief moment before ushering him to his mother who led him away to bed, the sounds of the pairs footsteps dying away, leaving George to his thoughts.
With a sigh he slid the book onto the coffee table and stood up, looking at the magical watch on his wrist which held a picture of him and his brother on the face. He meant to read the time yet he found himself focusing more on the image than at the actual hands of the clock. A small prickle of sadness struck his heart as he stared at the identical face of his twin, the picture of them laughing moving magically in the little glass frame, the hands ticking merrily over them.
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted as his wife returned, her long raven hair swept up in a ponytail. "Are you coming to bed too George?" She asked quietly, knowing this day had always been the hardest for him and he shook his head. "Actually Love I think I'm going to stop by the jokeshop tonight, we have an early morning delivery of ingredients for puking pastels and I don't want to leave Marcie to lift the load again." Angelina knew that this wasn't his true reason for leaving yet she nodded anyway and crossed the room to him, kissing him goodnight before retreating the way she came, hearing a pop behind her as George left without a word.
The streets of Diagon Alley were quiet and the night was still as George slid the key into the lock of the joke shop he now ran alone with the help of two assistants. He paused only for a moment as he noticed a small wicker basket on the steps of the Joke shop, the moonlight streaming onto the basket and after blinking a few times he realized it was a basket of daisies with a single blood red rose in the middle. He raised an eyebrow in questioning and bent to pick up the basket, inspecting it to see if there had been a note attached identifying the person who'd left it but there was none. He sighed quietly and pushed open the door to the semi-dark jokeshop, the only light coming from the stand where he kept the love potions. Still carrying the basket he carefully made his way past the various stands and into the backroom which held stairs leading to the apartment above. After Fred died Himself and Angelina lived here for around a year but when their son was born there simply wasn't enough room so they bought a house closer to The Burrow. In truth, after his twin died George didn't want to live here at all, especially not with someone else. Sliding another key into the lock he twisted it and heard it unlock with a click before pulling out his wand and tapping it three times on the door. "I Gred solemnly swear that I am up to no good." He said aloud and the magical barrier lifted, allowing him to pass. He and Fred had set that trap up long ago in order to stop intruders entering their private space and the results were, more than wicked when someone other than them came into the apartment. It had caused quite a few problems when Angelina lived here as George had refused to change anything. The place had been left exactly the way it had been when the boys lived here only now several pictures of the twins and their family decorated the surfaces and walls. The place was relatively kept clean as George had cleaned it whenever he got a chance too, which these days proved a little harder than it used to, a thin layer of dust coating the tabletop as he placed the basket onto it and crossed to the window, unlatching it and pushing it open. He sucked in the cool night breeze gratefully and shut his eyes for a moment. He felt at ease being back here, he felt closer to what he knew, to his brother.
He then turned and grabbed some red candles from the drawer and placed them around the lounge, tapping his wand to each one to light it as a dim, orangey light flooded the room.
Sighing once more George sank onto the couch and let his head fall back for a moment, rubbing at his temples as a faint cinnamon scent filled the room from the candles. The scent brought back pleasant memories for him of heated, passionate nights he'd spent with his brother in this very room. You see the bond Fred and George had shared was far greater than just brothers, they'd been more, so much more. George had always known that as long as he had his brother he didn't need anyone else, he was his world, his lover, his twin, his best friend, his sweetest kiss and darkest secret. The bond they had shared was impenetrable. Until death cruelly ripped them apart.
He covered his eyes for a moment as he felt a lump in his throat before he slowly looked over at the wicker basket again. It was a simple token of mourning and respect and he'd seen the same designs over and over again at the flowershop down the road, but to him it meant so much more. Fred had been the rose amongst daisies to George, he'd been his whole life and now it was gone and he was bumbling like a blind man through a maze without walls each day, not being certain of anything. Noone could understand his pain unless they themselves had been cut in half, and that was exactly how he felt. Half.
Getting to his feet again he crossed to the basket and plucked the rose from it and held it up to the candlelight, examing each petal like it were a precious jewel. As he examined it he recalled his twin, the way in which his lips curled up into a goofy grin when he smiled, the strong contours of his chest as he towered above George in heated lovemaking, the way his name sounded when Fred called to him…the way his face became paled and still as he fell to the floor dead. Violently George snapped out of it and hurled the rose across the room, sweeping the basket off the table and howling in agony in his own self pity as the daisies scattered across the floor along with the earth they'd been kept in, the basket rolling under the table. Silence.
He gave a rattled sob as he sunk to his knees on the floorboards amongst the earth and flowers. Slowly the scent from the candles grew stronger again and once more the happy memories were forced into his mind. This had been one of the best inventions Fred had ever made. Depression candles. He'd made them for George after most of his ear got blown off by deatheaters.
With that thought George reached up and brushed the raggedly scarred tissue of his remaining earlobe, the soft feel of his hair now grown to cover it brushed his fingertips and he closed his eyes, trying to imagine his brothers touch like this. His brother had always been there for him, and in the end he couldn't do the same. He couldn't follow him. But instead of bringing sadness like it usually did this thought brought a faint smile to George's lips. Wether it was the magic of the candles or the fact he'd finally lost it he didn't know, but the gentle smile remained as another memory filled his head, of hours spent with Fred in their room together late at night with the door locked and the muffilato charm cast on the room. How they'd taken turns to top eachother and laughed while trying to cover the bruises and lovebites the mornings after. How they'd shared such passionate stolen kisses when no one was looking. Truly two of a kind. The smile broke into a small laugh. God that was a strange sound, he hadn't laughed since the day his son was born and even before then it was rare after Fred's death.
His fingers slowly slid down his throat and he shut his eyes, imagining Fred to be there with him, his fingers slowly caressing his grieving twins body, making the pain go away. George's fingers brushed down to his collarbone and a small shudder rippled through him as he brushed a soft spot, it didn't have quite the same effect as when Fred had done it but it would be enough. His fingers began to wonder further down his body, in his mind his twins hands caressed down his torso, gently brushing along his waistline, making him shudder and shiver as he ran over several soft spots that only he had known about. Despite all odds George began to feel his pants restrict against a growing lump, his fingers now lingering around his inner theigh and he gave a soft, pained groan as the material restricted his hardening erection. Oh god how long had it been since he felt like this?
Reaching out he took his wand which he'd dropped earlier and purred in a thick voice. "Accio Glove, Accio endurance potion, accio lubricant!" Sure enough a few seconds later the objects he'd summoned sailed towards him from his and Fred's old bedroom. His eyes fluttered open to watch them before an idea suddenly flittered into his head. "Accio tape." Within moments a VHS tape slid from the room and landed in his hand. Forcing himself to his his knees George crawled to the Tv and pushed the tape into the vcr, grabbing the remote and pressing the on button, the screen dimmed for a moment before suddenly the faces of him and his brother appeared on the screen. This had been the tape they'd used to record the testing of the sexual products the jokeshop sold in the backroom.
The video showed Fred and George sat on Fred's bed, with a small table in front of them, which held A dark potion vial, a lube bottle and a pack of condoms. Both were smiling goofily for the camera. They both sat top-less, wearing only boxer shorts which of course matched in colour. "Shall I go first?"
"Please do, Fred" George smiled hearing his twin's voice and he watched as Fred opened the vial, chugged half of it down and gave it to the video George who took the rest of it. After a few moments the boys grinned then looked at eachother and crushed their lips together passionately. George watched silently as Fred's tongue slid across his before they engaged in full tongue-on-tongue action. Instantly recalling the memory and he sat back on the couch, picking up the potion himself and downing half, knowing that he would be here for days if he drank the whole thing. Instantly he felt the warm lustful sensation wash over him and he carefully slid the glove onto his hand, his eyes never leaving the screen. Carefully he took his wand and painted a 7 in the air with it and sure enough the glove sprang to life, humming with the vibrations which he quickly quelled by drawing an X, not wanting to interrupt the sounds of their moans. Slowly his hand glided down his body again as he cupped his aching groin, teasing it, the vibrations sending such wonderful shudders of pleasure through him. "H-hmm!" He moaned softly, his eyes becoming heavy with lust as he gasped his twin's name, forcing himself to keep watching the tape. He felt his breath become shallow after a few minutes and slowly slid his hand away from his aching groin, reaching down with his free hand he plucked up the bottle of lube and uncapped it, pouring some onto two fingers of his gloved hand and rubbed it in slightly before re-capping the bottle and tossing it on the couch beside took him a few moments to pull his pants down far enough to free his groin, the material riding around his knees. Slowly he slid his fingers down and stroked at the rim of his anus, gasping at the sensation he hadn't felt for so long, a sensation he'd missed a hell of a lot. He watched the screen as his twin viciously face fucked the younger George and the sight seemed to tip him over the edge, slowly pushing a finger inside him as a ragged moan ripped from his throat, his other hand reaching out and clawing at the fabric of the couch beneath him. "O-oh god! F-Fred!" he moaned as his finger made a beckoning motion, stroking at his prostrate, the vibrations magnifying his pleasure greatly as his other hand slid to his cock, vigorously beginning to pump his own hard, vein-y length. Not in five years had he felt pleasure as great as this, no higher completion and closeness to his beloved brother than he felt right now.
George's eyes slid shut and his toes curled in ecstasy, his moans now matching that of the tape as the duo had already began to fuck harshly. Being as greedy as he always had George slid another finger into himself scissoring them to stretch at his insides, oh god it had been way to long he thought as he slid off the couch and onto his knees, his fingers thrusting into himself impatiently, hungry for release, yet he knew as soon as he came it wouldn't be over, not until the potion had worn off. A small sheen of perspiration began to coat his body as he sucked in the scent of the candles, his breathing shallow as his other hand slid up and down his cock, a little precum trickling onto his fingers but still he didn't stop. His eyes flickered up to the screen weakly as he watched Fred roll him over and enter him harshly, both George's gasping in unison.*leaning forward he took his wand in his mouth and motioned it in a ten in the air as the glove suddenly spurred on much faster causing George to gasp and drop the wand again. "F-fuck! Hn!" He moaned as his he felt his prostrate vibrate upon contact with the glove, he was growing so dangerously close, so very close. With a final gasp George suddenly exploded into a climax, his fingers shoving harder into himself and his other hand furioiusly pumping his length as his cum sprayed over his hand and over the floor. Riding out his orgasm he slowed and slid his fingers out of his ass and released his erection which didn't soften because of the potion, panting hard, a few strands of hair sticking to his face from perspiration, his eyes flickered back up to the screen which now showed another clip of Fred testing out the Dildo machine. "Hello, its Fred here, alone, soloing, testing…anyways, the Dildo Machine is simple: It's places firmly on the floor, you can use a spell to change the shape, colour, size of the dildo, if it vibrates or not amongst other things." His twin's voices floated out to him and he nibbled his lip, his eyes gazing at his erection which stood firm still and sighed. "Accio Dildo machine." He flicked his wand as the large device soared towards him and he caught it, placing it on the floor, his eyes once again watching his twin intensely, copying every move he made.
tapping the device with his wand he simply muttered. "Fred Weasley." And the device transformed to the exact same shape, size and colour of his twin's member. George felt a small ripple of arousal run through him as he stared at it for a moment. Thank god himself and Fred had fiddled with the settings of this one unique device enough so they could save each others cock sizes incase one of them was ever away on business and the need arose. "Bloody hell mate I still say you were slightly bigger than me." He mumbled into the empty room, his eyes slowly looking back at the screen again to see Fred coating his entrance with lubricant in preparation. George ignored this action for now and slowly bent his head forward a little and shut his eyes as his lips came into contact with the dildo shaped like his brother. Jesus it even felt the same. His cock twitched impatiently and he slid the ungloved hand to his member and rubbed at it soothingly, his lips caressing up and down the length hotly before taking the head into his mouth and sucking it harshly, the moans from the tape making it easier to imagine it as his lover. When his want grew too much he stopped sucking and quickly slicked the length up with lubricant and positioned himself above it. In the back of his mind he couldn't help but wonder which of them had used the machine last as it wasn't supposed to work without seamen, but his memory failed him as he slowly sank down on the hard length, gasping.
The machine sprang to life the moment it entered him and began to move up and down, thrusting into his slick entrance. George hissed with a mixture of pain and pleasure as his inner tunnels were stretched and stroked, the gloved hand wrapping around his own member, feverently beginning to rub it. His other hand flew out and rested against the floor infront of him as he doubled over slightly in pleasure, leaning forward so the machine could get him better. "O-oh fuck Fred! Harder!" He groaned as the machine complied, picking up speed as it probed his most secret place. George's eyes opened slightly as his fingers brushed something on the floor and he spotted the rose close to them. Reaching out he clenched the red petals in his hand, placing his thumb of the other hand on the head of his cock, his whole body arching as it vibrated through his length, the vibrations so strong they quickly spurred him to his next orgasm.
How long had it been? An hour? Two? Three? George tried to guess as he led beside the various sex toys, his whole body clammy from perspiration. The vhs had long since ended yet he hadn't stopped until the potion had finally worn off, one arm now draped across his stomach, the other over his eyes. His body and his mind exhausted to the point he'd been reduced to just laying there, the rose still clutched in one hand. For once, his sadness wasn't as strong as it had always been, for once, he'd felt complete again, if only for a few moments. And that completeness brought fear with it. Was he finally beginning to accept his twins death and move on? No. he didn't like that thought, infact he liked it less than he'd liked Umbitch. He never wanted to forget, he wanted to hurt. Because hurt had been the only real thing keeping him moving for these past few years. And if that hurt was gone.. what then?... what then…?
Feeling tears prick his eyes once more George forced himself onto his feet and made his way to the old bedroom he'd shared with his twin. As long as they lived her Angelina had slept with George in the guest room, he didn't want her tainting the memories he and his brother had spent so long creating. He knew it was wrong of him to feel this way, a part of him loved her and he knew she loved him more than anything, but still. She wasn't his true love and he knew it. Some days he woke up and he'd watch her sleep and he'd hate himself for lying to her. He'd even thought of leaving her but whenever he looked into his sons eyes, he was reminded that he had a new life now. That he'd been given a second chance and Fred wouldn't have wanted him to waste it.
As he made his way to the ensuite bathroom to clean up, George found himself recalling a memory of the early days when he'd acted like his brother wasn't his true love, particularly the jealousy in Fred's eyes when he'd caught George and Angelina kissing in the fields close to the burrow.
Guilt panged through him as he remembered how mad his brother had been that night, how he had refused to talk to him for days on end until George had finally snapped and pinned his beloved twin to the bed and roughly made love to him, promising that Fred was the true beholder of his heart. And he'd meant every word.
He sat in the bath until his fingers had become pruny, his mind entertaining him with various memories, a scent of mint now clinging to his skin from the body wash he'd used as he slowly towelled himself off, slid his boxers back on and bundled his clothes up, making his way back into the room after pulling the plug out and he dumped his clothes on his bed before walking over to his twins, staring at it for a moment, envisioning his twin laying there, fast asleep and vulnerable. He felt the soft smile creep onto his face again and he gently peeled back the duvet and climbed into sheets. He was greeted with the welcoming scent of his brother and the scent itself brought tears to his eyes. Happy tears. And the last thing George recalled that night was falling asleep in the arms of his beloved brother, still clutching the rose in his fist.
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
The End.