Author's Note: I'd like to sincerely thank the readers who left feedback: it means a lot to me that you are enjoying the story (or at least the smut).
This chapter is not quite as exciting as the previous two, so if you are here for the smut and not the story (and it doesn't bother me if you are), it will pick back up next week, never fear.
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Part Three
George lay in his bed, staring at the curtains again.
Fred was in his own bed, sleeping off the potion Madame Pomfrey had given him to cut down the swelling of his brain. She had told him in no uncertain terms that he was lucky to be alive. A few more minutes and the damage done to his skull could have caused a hemorrhage.
George felt fucking sick.
He'd nearly killed his brother.
He'd slept with a boy.
He'd lied to that boy.
He'd lied to his brother.
And now, to top it all off, he could not stop thinking about Harry.
There was no one in the world, wizarding or muggle, who was more of an arse, more of a pervert, than he was.
He pushed his face into the pillows. He was sick for liking it with Harry. He was sick for wanting it again. There was something wrong with him, and he didn't know what it was, but was turning him into a monster. A monster who had dropped a full suit of armor on the only twin he had.
Suddenly he stumbled to his feet and ran to the bathroom. He bent over a toilet and began retching into it violently.
"Oi." Lee stuck his head into the bathroom. "You alright?"
"Fine," George croaked, leaning forward and vomiting again.
"You want me to call Pomfrey?" There was an alarmed sound to Lee's voice.
George shook his head vehemently. "I'm fine, Lee."
"Yeah, you look bloody brilliant," Lee muttered, rolling his eyes.
"Nerves," George gasped. His eyes were watering from the effort and he swiped at them quickly, in case Lee mistook them for tears. His stomach lurched again and he puked so harshly some flowed up his nose.
He began coughing and sputtering, and Lee walked into the bathroom, pulling a towel from the rack and running it under the tap. He crouched next to George and held it out.
"They're some well shagged nerves you've got," Lee told him as he took the towel and pressed it against his face.
"Something I ate."
"You ate a live Norwegian Ridgeback?"
"Might've done." George sat back, leaning against the wall and lowered the towel.
"Well which is it, nerves or dinner?"
"Either. Both. I dunno."
Lee stood and dumped George's toothbrush from his cup and filled it with water. He brought it over and leaned down to hand it to George.
"Y'know, I like you and Fred," Lee said slowly, watching him closely sip at the water, swish it in his mouth and spit it into the toilet. "But my Da' says that if you're always cracking jokes, it's to cover up somethin' you don't want anyone seeing."
"I've just finished barfing up all my deep dark secrets," George said, gesturing to the toilet. "Turns out they were mostly pumpkin juice and green beans. Shouldn't be long before I can be a functioning member of society again."
"I'm just saying that you can talk to me if you like. You don't always have to be funny. I don't expect you to be."
George sipped at the water, then closed his eyes and held the cool wet towel to his face.
"I appreciate it, Lee," he said quietly. He felt the other boy's hand on his shoulder gently.
"I'm going back to bed; it's late." Lee stood and began to leave.
"Lee?"
"Yeah?"
"What else does your Dad say?" George did not look up at Lee.
Lee was thoughtful a moment. "He says that we've all got good inside us. And that no mistake's so great that it can never be forgiven if you let that good lead you through life. And not to trust somethin' if it bleeds for seven days and doesn't die."
George laughed and looked up at Lee, who was grinning.
"Reckon he's still sore at my Mum for takin' up with the milkman?" Lee asked, cocking his head.
"Reckon." George grinned at him and Lee nodded.
"You really okay, mate?"
George paused, then shook his head. "No." Lee nodded, slower this time. "You won't tell?"
"No one to tell."
"I'm the one dropped the armor on Fred."
Lee closed the door of the bathroom and walked back inside, sitting down across from George. His face was serious, but he said nothing.
"I… I didn't mean to really hurt him." George took a deep breath and moved his eyes to look at the ceiling; they suddenly burned sharply. "I just… I did something stupid. And I knew he'd go mental if he found out. So I…" His voice cracked and pitched high, and he brought the towel back to his face and pressed it against his eyes. "I didn't mean it, I just wanted to distract him."
"He's okay though," Lee reminded him.
"But only just," George said, and his voice went ragged around the edges. "I could've really hurt him, I could've killed him, and all over something so fucking stupid." He grit his teeth and felt the towel near his eyes grow hot and damp. "I told him I'd make it up to him. But I don't think I can."
Lee said nothing, watching him.
"What if I'd killed him? I can't live without him. I can't even sleep at night if I don't know where he is." George drew his knees up to his chest, glad he could not see Lee. "I lost track of everything today. I had my mind set, I had a plan, and it all fell apart, and I almost killed the only person in the world that matters."
"The 'What if's and the 'Almost's and the 'Could've's will keep you in the past. When you dwell in yesterday, you can't see tomorrow." Lee's voice was strong, but gentle.
"Your mum go with the mailman as well?"
"Took a lot of philosophy to get through the divorce." There was a smile in the other boy's voice, and George felt oddly safe. "Fred looks fine to me. Sleepin' out there like a baby. A twelve stone, snoring, butt-ugly baby."
George laughed shortly. "You sayin' I'm ugly?"
"I'm saying the only thing fouler than you two is the rear end of a dog with three heads to eat and only one arse to shit."
George's laugh was more genuine this time. He pulled the towel down.
"I don't think Fred'd sleep so soundly if he didn't have a brother who'd sat by him for five hours, passing up a chance to catch up on a month's worth of make-up Divination coursework as well as a chance to play Spin the Flask with Suki Sebastian, rumored to be the most shaggable slag in Gryffindor."
"He snored the whole time," George said woefully. "I bet Suki doesn't snore."
"And you may never know," Lee informed him. "But I'd wager Cedric does."
"Shut your filthy mouth," George said flatly. Lee grinned at him.
"He is findin' out as we speak," Lee said, raising a hand to swear upon.
"That wanker!" George indignantly threw the towel to the floor.
"Your brother or Cedric?"
"Bloody both! If that git had died I'd not have sat next to him, wasting my time listening to him snore! I'd be finding out if Suki snored!"
"I don't think Suki goes for red-headed trolls," Lee told him, standing up. He bent over and helped George get to his feet.
"That's just coz she hasn't met me yet," George said, stretching his legs.
"Eh, she's met Fred. If y'meet one of you, you've met both."
George shoved him, and Lee laughed.
"Night, Lee."
"Night."
George got into his bed, pulling the curtains shut around him. It was easier to think about now. Lee was right, Fred was okay, and in the end, that was all that mattered. He could hear his twin snoring in the next bed and it was soothing. His eyes drifted shut.
So.
Harry.
His eyes popped open.
It was going to be a long night.
