A/N: omg, I'm SO sorry! I didn't realize I hadn't updated in so long! TT So sorry. Sorry! I'll update faster next time, I swear. The story is complete anyway... which may be why I forgot, since I don't spend time writing it anymore. Augh, sorry!

Chapter 11 - Touching

The sun rose high in the sky. Muggles walked down the street this way and that, completely ignorant of the existence of a missing house. It was about noon, so many workers were stopping by their houses for lunch before they had to go back to work. Couples met in the street and greeted each other with kisses. The sun invaded one room more than normal because the curtains had not been shut properly. It didn't bother the person sleeping in that room, though.

Fred Weasley slept on without taking notice of the world. He'd been sleeping since dawn, about six hours earlier. The door to his room was open about half way, and he was not alone in the room. George Weasley was staring at him in a curious manner.

George had woken up about an hour ago. After exploring the house and finding it empty, George had come back up to his room. It was through his initial curiosity that he even knew this room was here or occupied. Now he was staring at his kidnapper.

George squatted down by Fred's bed. Fred was laying on his stomach, head turned to the side, head not even on the pillow. His arms were limply laid to his sides in no specific orderly placement, and one of his legs sat in a position that cast one of his feet off the bed. Fred was fully dressed, but his clothes were ruffled from being slept in.

A hand reached out toward Fred's face. It hesitated when Fred groaned in his sleep. George leaned his head a little closer to the bed, examining Fred's features. His hand moved forward again, lifting some hair out of his view of Fred's face. He wrinkled his nose and dropped Fred's hair back into place. George sat back a bit and looked Fred over from head to toe. They were really identical, weren't they?

How did George have someone like this, who looked exactly like him, and not know about it? Were they long lost twins? This was more than mere polyjuice potion. Not only that, he felt a connection to his look-a-like. He'd heard of such things between twins. Were they related? Was that possible? Had Harry been truthful when he said Malachite had changed his memories? Maybe George really knew this twin person of his but just didn't remember it. No. George would try to continue to believe Malachite until proven otherwise. Still... strange things had been happening lately. Were they related to this?

Fred made another noise in his sleep and shifted his position. George fell back in surprise. His connection with the floor didn't make too much noise, but it was enough to wake Fred from his weakening slumber. Fred's eyes fluttered open like you see in movies. The sun from his window blanketed him, and he groaned, covering his eyes.

George tried to move to leave before he was noticed. The movement made noise, however, and Fred heard it. The younger Weasley twin opened his eyes wide and looked over. He seemed even more shocked when he saw George. Fred sat up and groaned.

"George?" he asked, rubbing sleep from his left eye. "What's wrong? Why are you on the floor?"

"Um...," George replied dumbly. Fred looked to the window and gasped lightly.

"Oh. Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Yeah," George said, deciding that was a good excuse.

"Sorry. Come on. I'll show you where the kitchen is," Fred said and waved for George to follow him as he got up and headed for the door. George decided to just follow Fred like some lost puppy. Fred didn't mind.

Down the many stairs and into the kitchen, Fred led George and pretended like it was just another day... like he wasn't actually having to show his brother where the kitchen was and how to find the food.

"Morning, Kreacher," Fred greeted.

"Yes, Weasleys...," Kreacher retorted. Fred smiled hopelessly. Kreacher would never like them as much as he liked Harry, especially after the exploding pink goo incident. Kreacher stalked off to take a plate to the table.

"Does he always put s's on the end of names?" George asked. Weasleys sounded plural. Wasn't Fred just 'Weasley'?

"No. He was talking to both of us. You're a Weasley too," Fred replied, poking George on the nose and smiling as he followed Kreacher.

George wrinkled his nose and blushed. Fred couldn't help but feel happy about that reaction.

"So are those delicious looking cakes for us?" Fred asked. Kreacher was setting glasses on the table now. Kreacher rolled his eyes.

"Yes yes. Master says to take care of you, so Kreacher will... No matter how much he worries...," Kreacher added in a dangerous, low voice. George seemed a little frightened of Kreacher. How cute.

"Thanks, Kreacher," Fred pretended like he hadn't heard the little warning in Kreacher's voice. He didn't plan on blowing anything up today so Kreacher didn't have to worry. "Well go on, George. Have something to eat."

George stood by and watched Fred sit down by the food that was now magically floating over to the table. There wasn't a lot, considering it was only for two people. Still, George eyed it all warily. Fred rolled his eyes. He grabbed a piece of bread and took a bite out of the corner. Then Fred poured himself some pumpkin juice and drank it all calmly in front of George. His brother's eyes watched him the whole time. This seemed to be enough to convince George that the food wasn't deadly.

George finally plopped down in the chair across from Fred and picked up a roll. He stared at it, raised his eyes to look at Fred, and then returned his gaze to the bread in his hands. His stomach growled. Fred paused in eating. The brothers locked eyes and stared at each other. Fred's lips twitched upward. George's lips parted and took in a slow breath. Then a smile infected George's face. Fred chuckled.

Soon they were both laughing. They were laughing at nothing, really. Sure, during a normal day, they may laugh about such a thing together... but they were almost like strangers now. Laughing about something so stupid... What did they think they were doing? But Fred couldn't stop. It felt so good to laugh, to see George's eyes shutting in the force of his laughter.

"Go on, eat, you loser," Fred spoke through his snickering, pushing George's bread toward George's mouth. George's laughter slowed and stopped. He bit into the bread.

Silence enveloped them. Fred missed the laughter and the smile on George's face. On a normal day, it wouldn't have seemed odd for them to go quiet but still smile at each other. Today, George had diverted his eyes, his mouth in a thin line as though thinking about something extremely difficult. Fred couldn't keep smiling while looking at that.

"George," Fred began. George's eyes peeked at him from across the table and through George's hair, but George himself didn't look at Fred.

"Hm?"

"N-Nothing. Never mind," Fred mumbled out quickly. He didn't know what to say. What was he supposed to say? Fred couldn't think of any words for the current situation. He chewed on some breakfast slowly and quietly. How could he prove to George that they were brothers, related, loved? How could he prove to George that Malachite was lying to him, that they were the good guys, that everything he knew was a lie, and, most importantly, that Fred loved him more than air?

"Fred," the voice was close and Fred almost fell out of his seat. His head snapped to the side where George was leaning over and staring at him.

"Y-Yeah?" Fred stuttered in his shock. George backed off a little.

"Well... You looked... upset," George explained, scratching his cheek. "And... Well I was curious."

"About what?" Fred asked. George looked everywhere but at Fred. He seemed unsure about whatever it was he was planning to ask or do.

"Well... Can you just... not move for a minute?" George asked. Fred regarded George curiously. What could he be planning? Was he going to try and escape? Steal Fred's wand?

"Huh?" was all Fred could come up with. George blushed darker.

"I'm just curious so... don't move. And I promise I wont do anything bad. So... will you?" George asked. Fred stared straight into his brother's eyes. They seemed honest enough, filled with embarrassed pleading. Fred nodded.

George let out a short breath and pulled his chair around the table. He sat in front of Fred, who wasn't moving just like he'd been asked to do. George stared straight into Fred's eyes for a moment. Fred watched as George's eyes scanned over his face and hair. George reached out a hand toward Fred. It hesitated. Fred almost went to pull it closer, to show him it was okay, but George had told him not to move.

Finally, George's fingertips brushed against Fred's cheek, moving his hair. Fred did his best not to show how the light touch made him feel. His heart was fluttering rapidly. Why was... George touching him?

George placed both hands on Fred's face, beside his eyes. He began to feel out Fred's face, slowly, as if he wasn't sure what he was looking for. Fred closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

"George...," he began.

"We're related..., aren't we?" George asked. He sounded as though he'd heard the news through gossip and wasn't completely sure it was true, but he also sounded defeated as though he'd given up on it not being true.

"Yes," Fred tried to keep his voice clear and steady. George's fingers were in his hair now. Fred kept his eyes closed though.

"You're... Fred Weasley... and we're twins," George continued his questioning statements. Fred fought not to nod. He didn't trust his voice.

"Yes," he said, this time quieter. George's hands had left his hair and were on Fred's throat now. They moved swiftly, not lingering long on the neck. They felt out Fred's tense shoulders and muscled chest.

"Fred," George said, hands pausing. The sound of George saying his name was like music, a magic all it's own. Fred realized George had been calling him by name all morning, and he had missed that sound.

"Yes?" Fred asked, voice back to normal volume now that the hands had stopped.

"Why wont you look at me?"

Fred's eyes opened. George was starring at him with a concerned expression. Fred blushed. He'd been so wrapped up in George's touch, in his voice, that he'd forgotten to open his eyes again. He had almost been certain this was all a dream, but George was really there. Fred composed himself and smiled a little.

"Sorry, George. I was distracted," Fred apologized. "Did you have anymore questions?"

"Yeah," George nodded. He slipped one of his hands behind Fred's neck. He leaned closer to Fred, closing the distance between them and, more importantly, their faces.

"And what exactly is your... question?" Fred asked, eyes having trouble deciding what to focus on, George's eyes or his lips. George was starring right into Fred's soul. Fred's heart rate sped up. It was almost painfully fast.

"Why is it... that when I see you all upset... I want to...," George's voice was getting quiet. Fred wasn't sure if George's eyes were closing or if that was just a trick because of his own eyes sliding shut. He could literally feel George's breath on his face, on his lips. Fred's lips parted, and he leaned a little closer to George.

The fire in the corner roared to life. Both twins ripped apart from each other, Fred falling over with his seat backwards. Both twins watched the fire with wide, shocked eyes. Then Harry walked into the kitchen. George glared. For once, Fred considered not trying to stop George if the older brother decided to attack.

Harry looked over the scene - Fred on his back, chair toppled over, and George sitting next to him, bolt upright and glaring at Harry. He took in a deep breath and smiled.

"Sorry. Did I interrupt something?"