A shaft of wintery sunlight fell across George's face colouring his shut eyelids a blood red. He moaned and pressed his mouth against the pillow. He remembered exactly what it had been doing last night and felt heat flood to his cheeks. He buried deeper under his duvet into a safe cocoon of warmth and thought about Malfoy.
'You're sick'.
That's what Malfoy had snarled. It had stung George like a slap across the face. Yet he couldn't not think about Draco.
He had never met anyone; male or female so alluring. His eyes the precise shade of silver sickles, his hair curling at the nape of his neck, his bottom lip caught between perfect teeth.
George wanted the image of Draco branded on the back of his eyelids so he would dream of the Slytherin boy forever.

He wondered lazily what the other boy was doing now. Was he too curled up in bed? George's heart thumped painfully against his ribcage at the thought of Draco nestled under the duvet thinking about him.
He hoped fervently that he had made a lasting impression. He wanted Draco to seek him out, to be possessed by an animal urge to fiercely kiss him.
George smiled to himself preparing to indulge in a similarly themed daydream however the duvet cover was yanked back and he winced at the sudden onslaught of light. He looked blearily up at his twin who stood grinning from ear to ear.

"Morning brother dearest" Fred chuckled. "Good night last night? You came in late and your jeans"-
Fred brandished George's abandoned jeans "are covered in grass stains".

"Oh well done. You should join the Auror office with those detective skills" George said mildly struggling to sit up. He snatched his jeans back, rolled them up and threw them under the bed.
Fred raised an eyebrow "Well?"

"Well what?"

"How was he?"

George fixed a devilish grin on his face "Fred, you really have to more specific. Remember I have no inhibitions and few morals".

"Slut" Fred quipped, nudging George in the ribs.

George twisted away "Nah, just free spirited".

Fred laughed, "Come on then. Get dressed. The day's wasting and maybe your mysterious boyfriend will declare his love for you at breakfast".

George swung his legs out of bed and dressed swiftly pulling a green sweater on. He followed his twin down to the Great Hall pale faced and yawning.
The truth was he wasn't a slut. He had many inhibitions; namely a lack of self confidence and his morals were strangely extensive. How could he be a slut when he pined after only one boy?

They joined Angelina and Alicia at the breakfast table. The sky stretched across the ceiling; overcast and flinty grey. George thought of a pair of stormy eyes and felt his appetite vanish. He stared down at his hands gripping the edges of the table. Splinters dug into his palms and he was acutely aware of the other student's gazes.
The silence was heavy and oppressive crushing his lungs.
So they all knew then.
They all knew that he was gay.

The whispers started within seconds; a torrent of hisses. It sounded like a seething sea; the waves slapping off George's ears.
'Gay'
'The one in green'
'He likes boys'
'Queer'.
"That's a bit out of hand" Fred remarked loudly and the whispers swelled then stopped.
George smiled weakly at his brother. He had been so concerned about telling the truth to his friends he hadn't anticipated the other student's reactions.

He dared to lift his gaze and glance around the hall. The Gryffindors; a mass of friendly faces. The Hufflepuffs; open mouthed spectators. The Ravenclaws; a mixed bag. The Slytherins; disgust, distaste, sour faced outrage. George's eyes searched along the table but Malfoy was absent.

He stood up suddenly "I have to...I need to..."
Fred's eyes dark with concern met his "Go". He clasped his brother's shoulder in an attempt to draw strength from him then stumbled from the hall. His legs felt like bags of water; his bones like sponges. He tripped across the entrance hall and up the stairs clutching the banister with sweaty fingers.

He couldn't separate fact from fiction out in the dim hall. Had everyone glared balefully at him or was it just the Slytherins? He couldn't seem to remember; he had been unable to pick out individual faces from the crowd. Apart from Fred's.
Fred had always expressed his feelings well. He wore them across his face in a hardened, fierce mask. One that threatened harm to anyone who hurt George.
That thought warmed George slightly numbing the panic in his chest. He still had Fred to protect him.

He reached the third floor corridor and drew to a halt. Lounging across the entrance of a cleaning cupboard was Draco Malfoy. He was entertaining Pansy Parkinson; the sour faced cow. His hands were planted on the small of her back, his neck inclined as he kissed her. Her fingers were wound through his silken, white gold hair. George felt like a fist had been slammed into his gut. That Slytherin slut hadn't even given him twenty-four hours to gain a sense of closure.
He intended to stalk past. He didn't want to think about what Pansy and Draco had done in the cupboard.
But hot betrayal forced the words up his throat "You can't hide in the closet forever Malfoy".

His eyes slid across to Draco's. He shoved Pansy roughly aside and glared at George. His mouth tightened into a hard line, his eyes shards of ice.
George's head lowered of its own accord. He couldn't bear that Draco looked at him with such undeniable hatred and revulsion.

When he rounded the corridor, out of sight he felt like he could breathe again. The iron shackles that had been crushing his lungs disappeared and he inhaled dizzily falling against a tapestry.
"Bastard" he muttered sinking to the ground. He leaned against the wall so hard he could feel his spine ache.
"Slytherin bastard" he said again because it made him feel marginally better. He shut his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. One two three four.

He heard footsteps and ragged breathing slice through the silence. One two three four.
"Weasley" he heard the hiss. One two three four.
"Will you bloody look at me?" One two three four. Surely one look couldn't hurt?
He opened one eye and found that indeed one look did hurt.
Draco was glowering down at him, his light eyelashes brushing angular cheekbones. Shadows coloured the skin under his eyes blue; vivid bruises. George stared back defiantly.
"Yes dear?" he asked sweetly, his voice laced with an undercurrent of hurt.

"I'm not...I'm not gay" Malfoy hissed.
George gave Draco a long, measured look. Who was he trying to fool? Himself?
"I'm not" he snapped again but uncertainty made his voice falter.

George sighed and stood up unpeeling himself from the tapestry. Face to face with Draco he felt oddly confident and sure of himself. Perhaps his subconscious was reacting to Draco's confusion or maybe it was because things between them couldn't get much worse. He stood as close to Draco as the other boy would allow. He didn't want to push him further away. As it was they were already standing an arm's length apart.

"I'm gay" George said and he took a discrete step forwards. He could see that Malfoy's pupils had swallowed up his irises; only a thin ring of silver surrounded the wide pool of chaotic black.
"I always have been. I just hadn't noticed. Or maybe I had and I didn't want to notice" he took another step forwards. Draco stared at him in abject fear, all anger absolved.
"If you liked boys I could do this" George carefully kissed Draco's cheek putting as much sweetness as he dared into it. The scent of the other boy; black pepper and cinnamon was intoxicating.
"I could do this" he placed his hands on Draco's hips and let them slide to the small of his back. He ran them upwards feeling the hard, angular shoulder blades and the contours of taut muscles. Draco exhaled loudly.
"Or I could do this". Heart hammering George kissed Draco's neck moving across his throat and along his fragile collarbone. Draco gave a perceptible shiver his hands reaching up to trap George's hips.

Even though Draco's touch was as hot as fire George detached himself carefully stepping back.
"Oh no. I can't do those things however. Because I'm gay and you're not. We're different" he shook his head sadly watching Draco from under lowered lashes.

Draco stumbled forwards, his breathing harsh as he closed the distance between them.
"We're the same" he whispered roughly as he lifted a hand to lightly touch George's cheekbone.

"We're the same" George repeated in wonder as he pressed his lips lightly to Draco's. The moment was so bittersweet; the pain running alongside the desire and the hot throbbing ache to share everything with this tormented, beautiful boy.
At that moment Draco meant more to him than the blood in his veins. For surely he was betraying it whilst kissing a Malfoy.
Draco's lips parted and their tongues met; tentatively at first. George dragged his thumb across Draco's cheekbones; they were so angular, so perfectly sculpted.

He wondered how Draco would respond to the feel of stubble, the scent of spicy, light aftershave opposed to heavy, rotten perfume. He seemed to be reacting ok.

Draco lightly pressed George into the wall, their hearts beating together; fast and unbearably loud. George could hardly catch his breath. He was afraid; afraid of startling Draco, of sending him running.

Distantly they heard the bell ring; muted by their own ragged breathing, their erratic pulses, and the blood rushing in their ears. Carefully Draco disentangled himself and stood back. George stared at him warily, waiting for his reaction; waiting for the revulsion and snarling denial to resurface.

Instead Draco shouldered his bag, gave George a long look and said "I'll see you soon". He pressed his lips briefly to George's, melting his insides then walked away. Already his absence punctured holes in George's lungs. But he was unbelievably grateful that there would be a next time. Hope flowered in his chest ensnaring his heart with glee.
'We're the same'.
Whistling merrily George headed off to Herbology, head spinning.