George Weasley was the type of person that you couldn't disassociate from his family. It must have been the red hair, freckles, or just general aura of poverty that glued him to the Weasley clan. Not that he particularly put in effort to be his own individual person, but still. Above all, in the eyes of society, he couldn't be kept apart from his twin, Fred. This had never bothered him before. In fact, he had always been delighted to spend time with his twin. Nobody, even their own mother, could tell them apart, which allowed them to craft some serious mischief. They had never had identity crisises because they were the same person, merely housed into two separate vessels. It was proof that their bodily vessels resembled each other perfectly, down to every last freckle.

And the twins knew every single last freckle of one another's bodies.

But recently, their relationship had been going through the rocks. They had been having a lot of disagreements about their joke shop, like never before. And the year before, at the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament, they had been extremely competitive trying to get in. Only after serious bribing was George able to convince Fred to share his stolen vial of Aging Potion. Alas, their attempt failed, and they were only lucky that it was Dumbledore who caught them trying to break into the Goblet of Fire.

In total honesty, Fred was actually really starting to piss him off. The problem was that he couldn't break it off with him as a brother, because that would ruin their reputation and make family dinner rather awkward.

Instead, George had been with-holding sex from Fred. Yes, the pair was the most famous case of twincest that Hogwarts had ever seen. Their dormitory mates had long-ago accepted the fact that one would occasionally crawl into the other's bed in the middle of the night, and the sounds of their passionate lovemaking would echo throughout the chamber. This had happened most often on cold winter nights. While the snow would fall outside, there would be heat in their shared four-poster bed as they pounded into one another. They would know exactly how to handle one another, because it would be just like if they handled themselves.

It's said that twins feel each other's pain and pleasure. That was definitely true for Fred and George. When they came together, their climax would be amplified times two, since they would experience each other's coming as well as their own. Ever since their first year at Hogwarts, when they had experienced their first erections while looking at each other in the showers, their love had extended far beyond that of brothers.

But recently, that love had dwindled. It still hurt to think about it, but George still remembered the first time that Fred had rejected him, last winter…

The comforter on his bed was too hot and he kept rolling around; he was unable to fall asleep. Just thinking about the way that Victor Krum had looked in his furry outfit that night made George rise. Added the warmth of the room and the way his hand-me-down silk pajamas felt against his skin, he was soon the proud owner of a mountain growing against his pants. George decided that there was one reliable way to take out his frustrations. Unlike his dormitory mates, he had long-since stopped jacking off in the middle of the night, Instead, he would merely clamber into Fred's bunk. Sometimes they would be at it for hours and would spend all of their class time the next day sleeping; they would be so exhausted. Other times, if Fred wasn't feeling too into it, Fred would quickly pleasure George with his mouth, then send him back to bed with a spank. The same went for George if Fred needed to deal with his frustrations. There was an unspoken rule that a twin's pleasure was a greater aim than your personal feelings.

That night, George snuck out of his four-poster, careful not to knock into anything with his large rocket. He gently shook Fred awake, murmuring very dirty things in his ear. He slid his hand down Fred's pants and started stroking Fred's member.

Fred pushed him away and told him to bugger off.

George paused, and the tried again. Sometimes Fred would do this if he had been having a bad day, but his resistance wasn't something that a little pouty-faced coaxing couldn't fix. "C'mon, mate," he said, reaching for the front of Fred's pants again. "You know you want to." Fred flung George's arm away again.

"No, I don't. I don't want to, George. Fuck off."

"Fred, what's wrong?' George asked, sitting down, still stroking himself.

"George. Nothing's wrong. I just don't want to tonight."

"Rubbish. You always want to. Need I remind you all the times you've begged me to fuck you?"

"Well, there's a first for everything, isn't there? Get out of my bed." Fred flung back the covers and rolled over, facing away from George.

George sat there, by the side of Fred's bed, for the next few minutes. It seemed like hours. He was incredibly hurt by this rejection, and couldn't stop himself from hoping that Fred was teasing him. But Fred wasn't.

When Fred slid into George's bed a few nights later, George gave him the cold shoulder Fred had given him before. Fred went back to his bed without another word.

For the next few months there hadn't been any action between the two, until finally, in vengeance for a fight they had had, George slept with Angelina Johnson.

Angelina was a beautiful girl, and George genuinely did like her, but their sex didn't give him anywhere near the level of satisfaction that he always experienced with Fred. The other boys in the dormitory congratulated George on getting into Angelina's knickers. If they thought anything of the sudden hostility between the two brothers, they didn't mention it. But George knew that the whole while he had been fucking Angelina, Fred had been in the next bed, seething in jealousy. He couldn't even call what had occurred between him and Angelina 'lovemaking'. He did like her, truly, but there was none of the emotional connection he would encounter with Fred there. Deep down, below his trickery and jesting, he really was an empathetic lad, and regretted doing it almost the moment after he came within her. George knew it wasn't fair to either of them, and apologized to both. Angelina for using her to make Fred jealous, and to Fred for hurting him the way he had. Fred forgave him immediately, and they had passionate makeup sex to rekindle their romance.

However, they barely touched one another during the summer. Nights previously filled with the sounds of wet thrusting and screams of pleasure were barren and awkward, and they wouldn't speak to each other for days, except when comparing notes on their merchandise. George realized that the only thing keeping them together at that point was the joke shop, and they had Harry to thank for that. If he hadn't provided the financial assistance that he had, their shop, not to mention their relationship, would have been completely ruined.

But this year, his final year at Hogwarts, things would change. He would get back together with Angelina if things with Fred didn't work out. But even if things didn't end up well for them in the love department, they could still make it as brothers, right? Or at least as business partners? Whatever happened, George decided to make this last year his best. He would get up to all the tomfoolery he could, before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named really established himself, and spoiled all the fun.

All these bad memories and thoughts were giving him a headache, George realized, striding down the corridor and scaring first-years by throwing Fanged Frisbees at them. They were giving him frustrations. Of the sexual kind.

Since he didn't have Fred to help relieve them, at least not at the moment, he was a bit stuck. There was only one other option he could think of at the moment.

Now, where was that cat?