Author's Note: Sorry for the slight delay. My brother got married this weekend so that obviously had me a bit busy, and then my poor furbaby got an ear infection so there was a much-needed [though slightly traumatic for her] trip to the vet's office :P

But I listened to your reviews and made sure that this was a longer chapter because I know a lot of you are always wanting more! I'm really anal about wanting to cut out all the fluff and only give you the stuff that is constantly moving the plot along.. but this time I left a bit of the fluff in for you ;)

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Ten

When I woke up again, I was greeted by the grey dawn, the sky just beginning to take on a pink and gold tint at the horizon line where the sun would soon be showing her face. The Forbidden Forest was beneath us.

"Morning, you," George said in a soft voice when he felt me stir.

I yawned, stretching my limbs as best and as carefully as I could while still atop George's broom. "How long have I been asleep?"

"A while," he said, and I could hear the gentle smile in his voice.

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling a little guilty. "You must be exhausted."

But he just shrugged. "I'm alright. Oi–" he added suddenly, pointing to a spot out on the horizon, "–That smoke. D'you reckon that's coming from Hagrid's hut?"

Following George's finger to the place he was pointing, I could just make out a few thin tendrils of smoke rising up behind what I could now see was the edge of the forest. Just beyond, Hogwarts loomed up tall and majestic on the cliff in the distance.

"Yes. I suppose it must be," I agreed. "We should probably make our descent soon."

George didn't say anything but he put the slightest amount of pressure on the broom handle, pointing it down and beginning a gentle decline.

"Look," he said as we began to draw nearer to the treetops. "Do you see them?"

Summoning up a bit of extra courage, I leaned over George's arm and peered down into the trees. It took a moment for my brain to stop panicking at our still-intimidating height and to register the grey shapes moving in the shadows of the forest below, but then I gasped. Thestrals.

I wondered how many more of us would be able to see them now, after all the death the war had brought us.

George maneuvered us carefully through the trees as we continued our descent, and soon we were on the ground in a clearing just within the woods, very near to where we used to have our Care of Magical Creatures lessons.

"You feeling alright?" George asked, holding the broom steady while I climbed down, and now looking at me with a slightly smug expression for having done as he'd promised and delivered us both safely to our destination. "Still in one piece?"

I narrowed my eyes at him but my pursed lips betrayed the fact that I wanted to smile. "Yes, it does seem that way."

He grinned. "Good." And then he too dismounted. Holding onto his broomstick with his left hand, he raised his wand with his right. "Accio resurrection stone!" he commanded, and then waited in silence.

Nothing happened and I shot him a half-scoffing, half-amused stare.

He returned my look with a small smile and shrugged. "Worth a try, wasn't it?"

The two of us stood together on the forest floor, spinning in slow circles as we observed our new surroundings and contemplated which direction we should go. I had never been to the acromantula nest. I'd only heard Harry and Ron's horrible accounts of it and, while not terrified of spiders like Ron was, hearing about their encounter second-hand had been more than enough to sate my curiosity about the creatures.

Still, there was a slight path just off to our left, the grass flattened in some areas and entirely absent in others, revealing big patches of brown earth after what must have been years of foot travel, and that seemed as good a starting place as any.

"That way?" George asked, noticing the path and the way in which I was eyeing it.

"What do you think?" I asked, fighting my instinctual urge to plan and control everything. This was George's quest; I was simply tagging along to help and to do what I could to make sure he stayed safe.

George turned his gaze back to the path on our left and gave a casual shrug. "Seems as good a place to start as any," he said, and I bit back a pleased smile at the way his words so closely echoed my own thoughts. "Just stick close, alright?" he added, turning back to me with a more serious expression. "Fred and I were sneaking in here just a few days into our first year and never met anything we couldn't handle together." The faintest ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of George's mouth as he revisited some old memory, and then it was gone, his gaze focused solely on me once more. "Still, just stick close and be careful, yeah?"

I raised an eyebrow. "George Weasley telling someone to be careful? I don't believe it."

"Hilarious, Granger," he said with a playful roll of his eyes before again growing serious. "I just don't want you thinking I'm taking this lightly–you coming here with me." He hoisted his broom over his left shoulder, keeping his wand clutched tightly in his right hand. "Just be a good girl and keep close, alright?" He was smiling again, his tone deliberately patronizing.

Now I was the one rolling my eyes with feigned annoyance. "Come on," I said, taking a step towards the path, reaching out and giving a quick tug on the hem of George's shirt to pull him along with me.

xx

The path took us deeper into the woods and, though the sun was surely rising in the sky above, the forest seemed to grow denser and darker all around us. While this wasn't entirely pleasant, I was at least relieved when mid-morning came and went with no encounters with anything more dangerous than a few hippogriffs who only eyed us with mild interest as we passed them by.

It was nearing noon when I received my first fright, and I had my wand poised and ready to cast a defensive jinx when I realized that the sudden noise from George that had startled me so, was nothing more than a loud, barking laugh.

"Dad's car!" he said, veering right from the path and making his way towards the light blue Ford Anglia I now noticed was parked under a nearby tree. (At least, I thought it might have been light blue at one time, though it was so caked with dirt and mud and twigs that it was difficult to tell for sure.)

At the sound of George's voice, the engine revved to life, and when George made his way down the side of the car, his fingers gently tracing over the dirty exterior as he went, the car responded to that too, the engine sounding for all the world as if it were purring at George's touch.

With a gentle tug on the handle, he pulled open the front door, ducking his head to take a peek inside.

"So many memories in this thing," he said, smiling as he eyed the interior. "Fred and I snuck out in it more times than I could even count."

He moved on to one of the back doors then, opening it and suddenly looking up at me with a suggestive glimmer in his eye. He opened his mouth to speak and I braced myself for an improper invitation to join him in the backseat, but the little gleam in his eye died a sudden death as he looked at me and he closed his mouth again. He turned his gaze back to the car and closed the doors.

"Right. Shall we go on?" he asked in an overly-polite tone, already making his way back towards the path.

"Um–" I began, surprised and confused that George hadn't taken the opportunity to say something entirely inappropriate. In the place of what surely would have been butterflies had he flirted with me, there was instead a dull pang of disappointment in the pit of my stomach as I watched him walk past me with nothing more than a friendly smile in my direction. "Yeah. Yes," I said, trying not to sound as stunned as I felt as I watched him go.

Not that I had any right to feel disappointed. I had just the night before accused George of toying with me, hadn't I? I couldn't now be upset that he actually seemed to be making an effort to not play with my feelings, could I?

I shook my head at myself and my conflicted thoughts and set off after George.

We continued on our path a while longer, stopping only briefly to have a bit of lunch, and then we were once again on our way.

"We should keep an eye out for a good place to set up camp," I said when the afternoon had settled upon us but brought with it no signs of us yet nearing the acromantula nest. "I think it would be a good idea to get the tent up and all the wards in place before it gets completely dark."

George nodded his agreement. "Yeah. S'pose we should rethink the direction we want to start out in tomorrow as well. If Ron and Harry made it to the acromantula nest in one evening, it surely couldn't be this deep in the forest, could it?"

I shook my head, feeling a bit discouraged. "No. It couldn't."

We kept moving for just a few minutes longer, until we came to a small glade just off the beaten-path. There was room enough for our tent there and the surrounding trees lent a degree of protection, making it as good a spot as we were likely to find.

So we at last abandoned our search for the stone for the day and George went to work magicking up the tent while I set about putting the protective wards in place.

When both of those tasks were complete, George pulled back the flap and waved a hand at the now-open entrance, inviting me to go inside first.

This tent was a bit smaller than the one Harry, Ron, and I had used while hunting horcruxes, but that may have been precisely why it felt so cozy.

Colorful curtains and tapestries hung from the walls, draping in elegant cascades that hid the dull canvas walls of the tent and instead filled the room with warm yellows and golds. There were plush armchairs and a sofa sitting atop a worn and faded crimson rug, all of which were positioned around an old, blackened fireplace where there already burned a steady fire. In back there was a full bathroom and a kitchen in which we could cook proper meals, but I was surprised to see that there were no bedrooms, only a few cots in one corner of the living-area, though these at least were covered in thick blankets and puffy, down pillows.

"Nice place you got here," George said, glancing around as he set down his bag and broom.

I summoned over a few jars and lanterns and began filling them with flickering blue flames. "Well," I began a little sheepishly, "it isn't mine, actually. It's Bill's."

"Bill's?" repeated George, who had turned and was now watching interestedly as I set flames inside the jars and then levitated them to different points within the tent until everything was softly illuminated.

"He loaned it to Harry, Ron, and me," I explained. "And after the war, I sort of forgot to give it back."

"Nicking things from my brother," George said, shaking his head at me and making a gentle tsk-tsk sound. "Don't worry. I won't tell." And then he winked at me, as if we were co-conspirators.

I rolled my eyes but smiled. "I'm going to get started on supper. What would you like?" I asked as I retreated towards the kitchen. "And don't tell me you're not hungry."

"I'm famished, actually," George said, and when I looked at him with surprise, he smiled. "All that walking, I guess."

"Good," I said, smiling back, relieved that I wouldn't have to force him to eat this time.

"Do you need any help?" he asked, and when I shook my head in response, he nodded and took a step backwards towards the flap of the tent. "I want to go have a little look around. See what I can see."

"Wait!" I called after him as he reached the tent's opening and turned his back to me. "You didn't tell me what you'd like to eat."

George turned back to me, shrugging. "I don't care what we have. Surprise me."

I pursed my lips at him. "You do realize that means you're not allowed to complain if it's something you don't like, right?"

At this, George laughed. "No complaints, I promise."

"Alright," I said in a high-pitched you can't say I didn't warn you tone, but then softened as I added, "Just don't go too far, okay?"

Obviously picking up on the slight note of worry in my voice, George gave me a soft smile. "I'll stay inside the wards. Just shout if you need anything." And then he ducked through the opening and stepped out into the dusky evening.

Encouraged by George's returned appetite, I prepared a meal that would have made even Molly Weasley proud, with chicken that I roasted over my blue flames, to say nothing of the potatoes and peas and carrots and rolls. I even set out a few of those chocolates filled with the strawberry mousse and clotted cream from Honeyduke's that I loved so much, on the off-chance that George was feeling up for dinner and dessert.

When everything was ready and the small wooden table was set with our dinner and plates and utensils and bottles of butterbeer, I stepped out to find George.

Fortunately, the task proved to be an easy one.

It was now completely dark out, and my gaze was drawn immediately to the soft blue light hovering slowly, side to side, backwards and forwards, over a patch of dirt just a small distance away from the tent.

George was kneeling there, his lit wand providing the light as he searched the ground for the resurrection stone.

I crossed my arms over my chest and watched him for a moment, watched the look of intense concentration on his face, my emotions warring inside me as I stood there. Because he looked beautiful like that, his handsome face set in an expression of firm determination, and the sight of it made my heart beat a little more quickly than usual and tugged like with invisible strings at the corners of my mouth, tempting me to smile. But I also felt guilty as I watched him putting so much effort and heart into something that couldn't possibly end happily for him, and I silently chastised myself, thinking that if I was a better friend, if I was braver, I would do more to convince him to let this idea of the resurrection stone go.

But I knew I couldn't do that. Not unless I was willing to risk our friendship. And that was too big a risk to take.

Like Harry had said, I had to let George make his own choice about this. All I could do was to be there for him and help him in whatever way he would let me.

In shifting my weight from one foot to the other, a twig snapped under my shoe, and George's head turned in my direction.

"Hey," I said, dropping my arms and trying to make it seem as if I hadn't been standing there staring at him for several minutes. "Any luck?"

He shook his head. He extinguished the light of his wand, tucked it into his back pocket, and then used his hands to help push himself to his feet. "Didn't figure I'd find it out here, not being at the acromantula nest and all," he said with a small shrug. "But I had to look."

I nodded. "Perfectly logical. It could have been picked up by a bird or a squirrel and dropped somewhere, for all we know. It could be anywhere."

George gave a dry smile at that unpleasant thought. "Yeah." He gave another shrug. "But I'm not worried. We'll find it." He flashed me a brighter, happier smile, dusting the dirt from his hands onto his jeans. "Did you need something?"

Amused, I shook my head at George and made my way towards him. "Supper is ready," I said, now holding out one hand and motioning for him to do the same. "Let me see your hands."

He looked a bit confused but did as he was told, holding out his hands and allowing me to turn them palm-side up. I softly muttered the aguamenti incantation, picturing in my mind a running tap and a gentle, steady stream of cool water began to flow from the tip of my wand, rinsing the dirt from George's hands.

"Here," he said, still holding his hands palm-up but now repeatedly crooking the fingers of one in a nonverbal command to hand over my wand. When I looked hesitant, he smirked. "I'll give it back," he said, and I at last relented. "Hold out your hands."

I reluctantly did so, not sure that I should be too trusting of George Weasley armed with a wand that was currently emitting water, but when my hands were outstretched, he simply returned the favor, gently pouring the water over my hands to clean them for supper. There was a slight sputter and the water slowed to a trickle, at which time I shot a nervous glance up at George, but he was still just concentrating on his task, nothing about his appearance looking particularly mischievous. And then a burst of fragrant, soapy bubbles came rushing out and I cupped my palms to catch them.

Careful to keep his hand steady, George lifted my wand up and placed the end of it in his mouth, gripping it lightly between his teeth so that his hands were free to join mine under the stream of bubbles.

Part of me questioned this, questioned if it was sanitary and questioned how my wand felt about being held in George's mouth, but I carefully studied the soft lips and the perfect teeth and the little glimpse of pink tongue just barely visible, and decided that my wand must surely be having the best moment of its life.

And once again there was a war going on inside me, as I now couldn't decide where to look and what to focus on, whether it be my wand, held carefully in place between George's lips, or down at our hands which were now so close that they kept accidentally bumping and rubbing against each other.

His mouth won out in the end.

George must have felt my gaze on his face because he glanced up from our hands, looking me directly in the eyes, his own twinkling gently. One corner of his mouth twitched up in a smirk as we stared at each other.

There was a sudden wetness trickling onto my palms then, George having turned the bubbles back into water, and I gasped at the cold surprise. He laughed, so suddenly that it forced him to momentarily clamp his lips down around my wand to keep from spitting it out.

"Over," he said as soon as he'd composed himself, taking care not to drop my wand as he spoke the word around it, and I turned my hands over to let him rinse off the other sides.

When we were finished and our hands rinsed and clean, I reached up and gently plucked my wand from his mouth and set about the task of drying our hands with a blast of warm air.

"You know," I said softly, feeling my cheeks flush as I stared down at George's hands, his long, nimble fingers bending and flexing as I dried them, "there is a sink in the tent. We could have washed up inside."

George gave an amused little hum. "But this way is much more fun."

A smile crept over my lips, and I don't know why I did it, if it was the rush of being so close to George, his little smirk at me as we stood alone together in the dark, or if it was simply a momentary descent into insanity, but I was suddenly overcome by a feeling of playfulness.

I took a tiny step back from George, gazing up at him with what I hoped was a completely innocent expression.

But he narrowed his eyes at me. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

I widened my eyes and batted my lashes. "Like what?"

He tucked his chin to his chest, eyes still narrowed, his lips pursed together as he stared down at me. "I'm George Weasley. You think I don't know a look of mischievousness when I see it?" My only answer was a grin, and the corners of George's mouth twitched in response. "Granger..." he said, clearly warning me, and I knew I had to act quickly.

So without another second's hesitation, I tilted my wand up, shooting water from the tip and squirting him in the face.

George jumped and sucked in a surprised breath as the cold water hit him and then made trails down his neck. A few droplets managed to sneak under the collar of his shirt, coaxing a shout from George as the cool water trickled down the bare skin of his chest.

I brought my hands up to cover my mouth as I laughed. It was silly and immature and, George being the co-inventor of joke wands that turned into rubber chickens, I knew the prank was one he could appreciate.

George was bent forward, laughing as he shook the water from his hair, and as he straightened back up, he tugged on the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it up so that he could dry his face on it and revealing quite a lot of stomach in the process. It shouldn't have come as a surprise, finding George to be so nicely toned, considering all his years playing [and excelling at] quidditch. But then, I'd never actually seen George without a shirt before, so the sight of all those tight, lean muscles, so close to me that I could reach out and touch them if I dared to, actually was quite a shock to my system, leaving me dry-mouthed and pink-cheeked and warm all over, and it took every ounce of will I had to tear my gaze away when George began to lower his arms so that he wouldn't catch me staring.

"Ohhh, Granger," he said, drawing my gaze back to him. His shirt was once more in its proper place and he was shaking his head, eyeing me with a wicked, dangerous smile that told me I was really in for it now. "You're going to wish you hadn't done that."

I tried to laugh, or to look frightened, or to look anything other than flustered by my prolonged ogling of his abs, but I must have failed miserably.

"Oi," George said, frowning slightly at the sudden change in my temperament. "What's with you?"

"What?" I said, the word nothing more than a desperate attempt at stalling so I could think of a believable response. "Nothing's with me," I said, but my cheeks betrayed me by going an even deeper shade of crimson. My eyes followed suit, traitorously sneaking a glance down at George's now-clothed stomach before I even realized what they were doing and forcibly snapped my gaze back up to his face.

George followed my gaze down to his own stomach, and a look of comprehension dawned on his face. "Oh," he said, and now he was blushing as well, the pale skin beneath his freckles going suddenly pink.

Something about his face being flushed, and knowing that it was because of me, made George look even more beautiful, and I had to bite my bottom lip to keep myself from doing something crazy like telling him I thought so.

And it became even more difficult to refrain myself when he glanced back up at me because, now that he understood the change in my mood, his eyes were flashing in that dark, hungry sort of way that set a million butterflies off in my stomach.

But neither of us acted.

We just stood there.

Alone.

In the dark.

Eyeing each other.

Until it at last became clear that neither of us was going to make a move. George cared too much to take advantage of my feelings, and I cared too much to throw myself at him for snog-fests that, in the end, meant nothing to him.

We were at an impasse and we knew it.

And so George cleared his throat, the sound loud and purposeful, intentionally shattering the tension that had built between us, and he gave me a soft, surprisingly bashful smile.

"C'mon, Granger," he said, motioning with a jerk of his head back towards the tent. "Our supper is getting cold."

xx

When dinner was eaten and all the washing up had been done and George and I had formulated a new plan for our resumed search the following day, I retired to the sofa in front of the fire with a nice, big book for a bit of reading.

Reading is a very difficult thing to do, however, with someone pacing back and forth across the room in front of you.

"George," I said in a flat tone after I'd followed his head over the top of my book, watching as he crossed from one side of the room to the other for what was at least the seventh time.

"Yeah?"

"Stop it."

He stilled his steps and turned to look at me. "Stop what?"

"The pacing!" I said with a laugh. "It's distracting."

"Right. Sorry." George strolled across the room towards me, collapsing into an oversized armchair. "Just feeling a bit restless, I s'pose." He had only been sitting for ten seconds when his right leg began to bounce. "I feel like I should be out there looking for it."

I marked my place in the book and set it aside, sighing. "It's too dark out, George. It's too dangerous."

To my surprise, he nodded. "I know. I just need to be doing something to keep my mind occupied. D'you want to play a game of exploding snap?"

"Erm. Well..." I said, allowing my voice to trail off. The truth was, while I'd gotten the gist of the game from seeing so many others play it around me, I'd never actually played much myself, having always been too busy focusing on more important matters. Like homework. So I was certain I wouldn't be very good, certainly not as good as George–I knew; I'd seen him play–and I didn't exactly enjoy doing things I wasn't good at..

"I'll take that as a no, then," George said, smiling at me and what must have been a distressed expression on my face. But then his own lit up. "Never mind that," he said, suddenly springing from his seat. "I've got just the thing."

I watched him retreat to the corner where his bag sat, feeling both curious and a little nervous as I wondered what he was up to. He returned just a minute later, carrying a small wooden box which he placed on the couch between us as he sat down beside me.

"What is that?" I asked, trying to sound less apprehensive than I felt.

He grinned. "I'll show you." He opened the box and stuck his hand inside, pulling it out a second later and holding out a tiny blue paper tube for me to see. It was no taller than the length of his pinky, and there was a fuse trailing out of one end.

I laughed. "You brought fireworks?" I should have known.

"Never know when they might come in handy," he said, still smiling. "And if I recall correctly, you quite enjoy our fireworks."

"Oh, do I?"

George nodded. "You do. You even went so far as to call them wonderful once."

"You actually remember that?" I asked, thinking back to my fifth year at Hogwarts when George and Fred set off an overwhelming number of fireworks all throughout the castle to cause a bit of mayhem as they rebelled against Dolores Umbridge. I'd fought my way through the crowd in the Gryffindor common room that night to compliment them. I was flattered that he'd remembered.

"Course I remember," George said. "It's high praise when Hermione Granger tells you you've created something wonderful."

He turned then to the nearest jar which was levitating in the air just at the other end of the couch and waved a hand at it. The slip of his smile told me that he'd expected the flame to go out and was surprised when it didn't.

He pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at the jar. "Nox." Again, nothing happened.

With a huff, he stood up and walked the small distance over to it, bent over, and attempted to blow it out.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from giggling. I could have told him those attempts wouldn't work, of course, but it was fun watching him try.

He put his thumb and index finger to his mouth, wetting the tips and then trying to snuff the tiny flame out with a quick pinch, again with no success.

"Blimey, Granger. How do you extinguish these things?" he asked, now sounding slightly frustrated, and I couldn't help feeling a bit pleased with myself.

"Here. Let me," I said, reaching for my own wand, and with one gentle flick of the wrist, all the blue flames in all the jars throughout the tent went out, dousing us in sudden darkness that was lessened only by the low fire still glowing orange in the hearth.

"Excellent," George said, sounding cheerful again.

He settled himself back on the couch and picked up the little blue tube. He lit the fuse with the tip of his wand, and just when the spark had reached the top and met with the blue paper, he tossed it up into the air where it immediately burst into a dozen blue stars above our heads.

When that one had fizzled out, he returned his hand to the wooden box and rummaged around until he found another one he liked. Over and over he did this: a red disc that zipped through the air before exploding in multi-colored sparks; a pink cylinder that bloomed into a bouquet of sparkling flowers that actually left the room smelling faintly of sweet roses; a golden sphere that looked suspiciously like a bomb but which only burst into golden flame and sprouted a white, fiery tail as it soared about the room like a miniature comet.

Impressive and beautiful though they were, I found myself watching George more than I watched the fireworks.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught me staring at him, and he turned his head to better look at me. "What are you thinking over there, Granger?" he asked, and he was really, truly smiling.

I shook my head, a huge smile on my face as well.

"Ah, c'mon. I know you're thinking something." He leaned over, playfully knocking my shoulder with his. "I can almost hear the wheels turning in there."

I tried to purse my lips in indignation to that statement, but I was still grinning too widely. "This is the happiest I've seen you in a long time," I said simply. "You just seem like you again."

George's smile softened as he looked at me. "Yes, well, I suppose I feel a bit more like me again. Because I know I'm going to have Fred back soon."

My smile faded a bit then and I averted my gaze to the box of fireworks still sitting between us, once again overcome with guilt for going along with this whole thing that was sure to end in more heartache for George.

But George was too certain, too firm in his belief that all would end well to be dissuaded or discouraged by my obvious doubts.

He ducked his head so that I was once more looking him in the eyes, and there was something tender about his smile now. "And the company's not too bad in the meantime."

I snorted a small laugh at the not-entirely-flattering compliment and leaned over, this time nudging George's shoulder with my own. "Well, you're not so horrible yourself, George."

xx

Having slept so much on his broom as he flew us to the forest that morning, I felt wide awake even after George had exhausted his small store of fireworks and had finally begun to nod off on the couch.

I woke him and sent him off to a cot to get some rest while I went outside to double-check the wards and to have a quick look around.

The wards were perfect, of course, and after an uneventful half-hour sat outside the tent, I found myself yawning and decided we were safe enough that I could join George for a bit of sleep.

By the time I reentered the tent, George was curled up on a cot, seemingly asleep, and when I'd changed into my pajamas and lowered myself onto the cot beside him, I heard his slow and steady breaths, confirming that he was indeed out.

I closed my eyes, concentrating on George's breathing, reassuring and soothing and lulling me to sleep...

Until I heard him mumble something.

My eyes popped back open and I smirked at the realization that he too talked in his sleep, and I had every intention of teasing him the next day, just as he'd teased me earlier.

George tossed on his cot then, turning over onto his side so that he was facing me, enabling me to hear him more clearly when he began to speak again.

"Why can't I see you?" he asked of some mystery figure in his dream. "...want to see you."

I sat up in my own cot, taking care to move as gently as possible so as not to wake George as I leaned over to get a closer look at him. With the soft moonlight filtering in through the tent's flap, I was just able to see his face, his closed eyes, the small frown of his mouth, the slight crease between his brows as he listened to the dream-figure's response.

But then the frown gave way and a smile spread over his lips, and I was surprised to hear George chuckle, the sound sudden and warm and deep and incredibly entertained. I saw a flash of white teeth as his smile widened into a grin just before he rolled over, flopping onto his back.

He flung an arm up, letting it rest on the empty bit of pillow above his head.

And he was still laughing as he whispered, "Shuddup, Freddie."

Author's Note: I watched a video on youtube this weekend of James and Oliver at a convention earlier this year. (I'm going to assume that anyone reading Weasley Twin fics will already know James and Oliver and who plays which twin, but just in case someone doesn't know, James = Fred and Oliver = George.) So! Someone asked the boys who their favorite characters were.. and Oliver (George) said that he always liked Peeves and said it was a shame that he wasn't featured in the movies. And you know who James (so, Fred..) said his favorite character was? ...

George.

Say it with me now.. AWWW. All my Weasley Twin feels exploded when he said that 333

Haha.

Thanks as always for reading and especially to those of you who take the time to review. It means so much to me!

I hope everyone is having a great week! :)