Ten minutes later, George was cleaning up after a particularly rough romp between the two in a wayward broom closet. "Ah, Mrs. Norris, my love," he sang out to the feline, siphoning his cum off her arse with his wand. "If only I could spend the rest of my days in your godly presence. You are my sunshine, my seraph, my delight in this cruel world. For that, my sexually gifted housecat, I thank you."
George hummed a waltz as he proceeded to zip up his trousers. "Alright, love, 'tis time for me to embark to class. I wouldn't want to leave you, you know that, but I can't support us unless I finish school. Besides, if I had the misfortune to be late, I know how much it would pain you if you had to hand me over to Filch for tardiness. It's better this way," he assured the cat. "I will leave first, my dearest darling, so we won't rouse suspicion. Adieu, pussy!" he called to her melodiously.
But it troubled George to think that when he was gone, she would have to put up with the aggressive advances of a almost certainly drunken Argus Filch. The poor girl had been abused by him for years, and Filch didn't even try to hide it. George could remember multiple occasions from when he was younger, when he and Fred would be disciplined in Filch's dungeon office. The haggard old man would kick the cat and even spank her furry hindquarters, much to George's juvenile delight.
George supposed that the caretaker really did love Mrs. Norris, but he had a horrible way of showing it. Whenever George discovered a new mark the old man had inflicted upon his pussy cat, he became angry.
"Did he do this to you?" he would ask in frustration, although he already knew the answer. "I don't understand why you don't just leave him. He treats you like rubbish. Love, I'm sure we could arrange something… maybe hide you in my bed during the day? No… you're right, that would be too dangerous; someone could find out. We could always make you a nice cot at Hagrid's!... except for Fang. Agh, fuck."
"-Sorry!" he would say when he realized he had degraded his darling by using profanity with her. "I'm sorry dear. But when you hurt, I hurt. I can't help it."
Now, exiting the broom closet with a spring in his step, he whistled on his way to his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class of the year. He received a few odd looks from fourth year Ravenclaws as he used his elbows to part their group, as they were blocking the hallway. However, he just winked in return, since surely nothing could spoil his wonderful mood.
Twenty minutes into his Dark Arts class, he realized this new instructor could do exactly that with acute professionalism, considering the fact that he had never met the bitch before. However, this woman irked his every nerve.
The moment the bell had rung, this new professor, whom George had singled out at the Start-of-Year Banquet for being particularly foul-looking, immediately went up to the board and scripted the words Dolores Jane Umbridge onto it with cheery gusto. All the letters had little curlicues at their ends, which annoyed him for really no reason other than his opinion that they looked incredibly stupid.
"What's that, a disease?" asked Lee Jordan, who had sat next to him in class ever since their first year, with Fred on his other side.
"Oh no, dear," the little toad-faced woman replied. "That is my name, dear. Now, class, say it with me. All together! Dolores Jane Umbridge."
Nobody in the class said anything; they all just stared at her in speculative amusement. This tiny, portly woman, who was dressed completely in garish pink tweed, had just spoken to her class of seventh years like they were all five. Even more unexpected was the fact that she had the highest voice he had ever heard, when by looking at her George had prepared to hear croaking.
"You've got to be kidding me," Lee said under his breath, staring at her in horror.
"I assure you that I do not kid," the woman replied pleasantly enough, but there was a malicious glint in her beady eyes.
The class just went downhill from there. This frog-faced cunt informed them that this year, they would not be using magic in this class. Instead, this would be a 'practical course', in which they would simply study the textbooks instead.
"But what about the physical portion of our N.E.W.T.s?!" roared Fred in protestation. George said nothing, although he agreed with him.
"Children, if you have studied the material well enough, you will be able to complete the spell-casting portion to satisfactory results," she answered, obviously growing less and less patient by the moment. By the end of class every student had spoken out in favor of regular teaching, but their efforts heeded nothing.
"What is this Ministry-regulated, water-down shit?!" George cursed as soon as he could escape from the class. Just being in that room gave him a headache; it smelled of cheap old lady perfume and dead flowers, as well as cats. Nothing compared to the sweet stench of Mrs. Norris' fur, however. Fred and George happily spent over fifteen minutes verbally abusing the woman. They smiled at one another, hopeful that their relationship could maybe still be mended.
Unfortunately, things didn't end up working out so easily. George was already asleep that night when he felt a presence curl up next to him in his bed. With horror, he realized that it was Fred.
I've missed you," Fred mumbled, spooning him from behind. He rubbed up against George, and unwillingly, George's member lengthened.
"I've felt so empty, recently," Fred continued. "I couldn't sleep, just now, because I was remembering how good you used to feel, when you would hit just the right spot."
It was getting harder to concentrate on Fred's words, because now Fred was equally as hard as he was, and rubbing up against his backside, in soft, slow strokes.
"I was remembering how much I loved the feel of you, inside of me," Fred prompted, reaching over George's slim hips and grasping the front of his pajama pants. George gasped, as Fred began to tease it with his hand. "How full I felt when we were together. I felt whole. And I haven't in such a long time; you've been a naughty boy, making me wait…"
Fred slipped his hand down George's pajamas, and grasped his cock firmly.
"Yes, my, you've been a naughty boy," he growled in George's ear as his hand moved up and down. "I could always punish you, but perhaps an incentive would be better at this point…" Fred slipped beneath the covers before George even realized what was happening. Before he knew it, his pants had been pulled down to his knees and Fred had his mouthing sucking at his cock, circling the tip of it.
George couldn't help it; he moaned and threaded his fingers through Fred's wonderful red hair. "Oh, God, Fred. Merlin's beard, right there, there…"
Fred had had a lot of experience pleasuring George throughout the years, and knew exactly how to make him melt. Within a few minutes, George growled in an
animalistic fashion as he came in Fred's mouth. Fred drank down the salty warmness eagerly, and licked his lips when he came back up.
"Tastes as good as ever," he grinned, licking up George's lean chest.
Coming down from his high, George grabbed at Fred's supple buttocks.
"You are as talented as ever," George told his twin, reaching through his legs to massage his ballsack. "Your mouth can do wondrous things."
"If I can remember correctly, yours can too," Fred teased. "Unless you've lost all your skills in our time apart."
George looked playfully affronted, and slapped at Fred's ass in retaliation for that challenging remark. "I guess we'll have to see, won't we?" George winked at his twin as he, too, slithered beneath the sheets. In the darkness, he located Fred's cock and began gently massaging it. But for some reason, he felt the prick of guilt all of a sudden.
He tried to ignore it, but something about the way Fred's ass felt, clenched in his hand, reminded him of something. And then he remembered.
His head snapped up and he scuttled up from under the sheets. Fred, taken aback, asked "Oh? Am I being punished for not coming over here any sooner? You evil boy, you're going to keep me hard all night, won't you?!"
"No, I won't," George replied, defeated. "I can't do this."
"So you really have lost your skills? I'm disappointed in you, George."
"No, I mean that I've been seeing someone. I can't. I can't cheat on them."
"You're seeing someone. You can't cheat on them. Funny how that never came up as I was sucking you off, mate. Pleasure is more important than commitment, I gather?"
"No, you don't understand-"
"I understand plenty, George. I understand that you're a total arse. Since I can't expect any favors back, I'm going back to my bed to finish myself off. Don't talk to me. Don't look at me. I can't stand the thought of you right now."
Fred rose and clambered over to his own bed.
George rolled over, regretting everything that had happened. He fell asleep with a heavy heart and a guilty conscience.
