Draco wasn't speaking to George. It had been two weeks since they were discovered out in the snow. Fred had left the hall, desperate to find George, to seek out his elusive brother. What he had found left Fred stone-faced and cold-hearted.
George had burned up at the look on Fred's face. He had wanted to melt like the snow into the ground. Fred had been disgusted.
And Draco-he had been worse.

"Stay away from me, you faggot" he had snarled leaping to his feet, his grey eyes slicing into George's.
George flinched away from the word, the cold from the snow seeping under his skin, chilling his bones. Malfoy thought he was sick, Malfoy called him a faggot.
George felt a desperate pang, a twist of his guts and he must have shown it because Fred swept past him furious.

George had looked up at a strangled yell that shook the trees. Fred had pinned Draco to a tree trunk by his throat, his hand crushing his windpipe. Draco's face was reddening as he tried to twist away, his silver eyes slanted and unbelievably bright.
"Fred, stop" George had croaked "You're going to kill him".
Draco and Fred both looked at him with startled expressions. Draco had probably thought he would join in, throttle the bastard until he fell stone dead into the snow. Fred was on the same wavelength.

Snow stuck to George's cheeks as he watched Fred fling Draco to the ground. "Don't you come near my brother again" he threatened; his voice harsh as he panted.
Draco had leapt to his feet, his hair wet and tangled with snow, his face pale and his throat shining with purple and blue bruises. He shot George a long look then ran, crashing through the trees. George didn't know what the look meant; he was too tired and cold to read the expression on Draco's face. Was it a silent apology? Or a look leaden with hatred?
George hoped it wasn't pity.

Then Fred had come over, his face as pale as ice, his eyes hunted as he swept George up in a hug.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You deserve a thousand times better than Malfoy" he whispered hotly in George's ear. They stayed like that, huddled in the snow until the skies cleared and the watery sun burst through the clouds. "Come on mate" Fred said, slinging his arm around George's neck "Time to get you in front of the fire".

The thought of that day still exhausted George and he was still furious at himself. He was bone-tired of thinking about it; thinking about all the mistakes he had made. It felt like his head was being crushed between two lead bars but there was a single ray of sunshine. Fred.
Fred was always around, making sure he ate, making sure he laughed.
Laughing felt strange at first; it felt like a lie.

But he felt better. It helped that Draco seemed to have disappeared from the corridors, from the Great Hall. And Fred had told no one; he was as good as his word. George could pretend it hadn't happened-he preferred it that way. Dwelling on it dragged him down like he was clutching a lead balloon.
George's other friends had noticed how withdrawn he was but they neglected to comment. George suspected Fred had something to do with that.

However life went on like it had before. George walked to class, he ate lunch, he didn't do his homework.
And now he walked around the Quidditch pitch scowling in the fierce wind. Fred was in the common room with Angelina. He had watched George peel away from the group and disappear. He had understood that his twin needed to be alone.
A blanket of snow carpeted the pitch, crunching under boot like shards of glass. George buried his hands deep in his pockets and concentrated on each step.
One
Two
Three
He could see a figure detach itself from one of the goalposts, tall and shadowy. George squinted as it hurried towards him. What if it was Draco? His heart hammered painfully.
Then it slowed as the figure materialized into a Ravenclaw boy. Terry Boot. The wind ripped through his dark hair, his blue eyes bright and watery. His cheeks had flared pink, his jaw nestled in the high collar of his black jacket.
"Hello George" Terry said "How are you?"
"I'm...I'm great" George finished lamely. He was trying to regain his composure. The thought of Draco had sent his head spinning and despite everything he was overwhelmed with a mix of bitter disappointment and heady relief.
"George, I came out".
"Huh?" George's head snapped back up and he scrutinized the Ravenclaw, tilting his head to one side.
"Yeah, I came out to my friends and family. I think...you inspired me to do it. I wanted to say thanks..." Terry trailed off looking hard at the snow.
"Oh. That's brilliant. No problem" George said still staring at him. He waited for Terry to say something else but silence fell. George shrugged and began to walk away when Terry said "Wait!"
He turned slowly back around, confused. He didn't say anything. He waited for Terry.
The Ravenclaw turned red and ran his hand along his jaw.
"I thought...maybe, we could go out sometime...if you wanted to?"
George's brow furrowed. He hadn't expected that.
"Look Terry, I don't know if I..." then he stopped speaking. Why not?
Terry would be good for him. He was nice, funny and he liked him. Even if he wasn't all of those things he was openly gay. He knew who he was. Which was more than 'some people', George thought darkly.
Fred would be happy; George himself could learn to be happy. Maybe Terry would help him forget.
"Ok, yeah" he said. Terry grinned, leant forward and kissed his cheek. His lips were cold from the snow, a dusting of stubble lightly scraping George's skin.
"See you around" Terry said before walking away. George listened to his footsteps fade then he exhaled loudly and fell back into the snow. The sky spun before his head, a light dusky blue. He could feel a smile creeping across his lips. This was his chance to banish any thought of Draco from his head. He could concentrate on Terry; on the deep blue of his eyes, on his dark, unruly hair. He wouldn't think about the silver of Draco's eyes or the starkness of Draco's soft hair, he wouldn't think about the curve of Draco's throat or the...
George's smile faded.
Damn.