All things relating to Harry Potter remain the intellectual and legal property of JK Rowling.

Warnings: Drunkenness, sulkiness and vomit.

Chapter 26: Black and Blue With a Rainbow Yawn

George's stomach lurched. A belly-full of beer and the unexpected flight through the air had made him feel very unwell. Added to that, he'd landed fast on hard stone and his thighs and buttocks were bruised.

"What's got into you?" he asked Harry furiously.

Harry didn't reply at first, so he turned to look at him. He was rocking backwards and forwards, curled into a ball with his head in his hands. George lurched to his feet and stumbled away from his lover.

"'M sorry ..." Harry mumbled. "Just wanted to touch you."

George leaned behind one of the bins and threw up. Then he staggered to the wall across the alleyway. He was cross with Harry for getting them kicked out and for criticising Fred, but there was a deeper gnawing rage inside him, a desperate anger about everything. He tapped the bricks in sequence and they started to shift apart.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked in a surprised tone.

"Home," George replied shortly, before stepping through.

Harry followed him.

"What are you doing?" George asked.

"Coming with you," Harry said. Then, more quietly, his eyes big, he added, "Unless you don't want me."

George sighed and rolled his eyes, exasperated with himself. "Godric help me, but don't I always want you?"

Harry smiled a kid's big grin which pulled George close to forgiving him for everything. He hopped through the wall, which closed behind them, and they walked off down Diagon Alley together.

"What if your wife comes looking for you?" George asked.

Harry's face screwed up in concentration. he stared at his wand, trying to summon enough sobriety for a Patronus. After a minute he managed it, saying with over-careful enunciation: "We're going round to George's to talk things through. I might be late back, you go home when you're ready." He looked up for George's approval when he'd finished.

"Talk things through?" George asked. "That what we're calling it these days?" His voice was low and flirtatious, but there was a resigned aggravation in there, too. He headed off down the street, then, so he was facing away when he said, "Seamus and Dean's announcement seemed to go down well."

Harry said nothing, just followed.

"Very easy really. Everyone reacted well."

"To their faces," Harry muttered. "We'll see what they say behind their backs later." He took another few steps then added, "And neither of them is Harry Potter."

"Too bloody right," George chuckled. "'Cos if they were then the other one would be shagging you and I'd have to beat him up!"

Harry didn't laugh. "You know what I mean. They won't be on the front page of the Prophet tomorrow. They never saved the Wizarding World, so they don't have to live up to its expectations. If they do make the papers it'll be because – Shock! Horror! - 'Friends of The Chosen One are Secret Bum Bandits'. It'll only make the inside pages."

"How long do you think they've been together then?" George pondered. "You shared a dorm with them. D'you reckon they were at it then?"

"No! We'd have noticed. Then again, nobody noticed we were."

They had reached Wheezes. George unlocked the back door and they went in. As soon as the door closed, Harry grabbed George by the shoulders and pushed him against it. He pressed their bodies together and tried to force a kiss. George turned his head, though. "I'm pukey," he said. "Anyway, we need to talk."

Harry let go and George pushed past him to go up the stairs into the flat.

"I haven't seen you for weeks and you want to talk?" Harry complained.

"Exactly!" George responded. "I can't stand it being so part time."

"Fine!" Harry whined. "I'll just move in here, then. You can explain to your sister why she's a single mother!"

"Are you coming up or what?" George asked from the top of the stairs.

Pouting, Harry followed him up. George was in the bathroom when he got into the flat, brushing his teeth. So, a snog wasn't completely out of the question, then? Harry was having trouble concentrating, but George looked frighteningly sober as he stood with his hand resting on the sink, watching Harry approach him in the mirror.

"What am I?" George asked.

"I love you," Harry replied.

George wheeled round fast. "Then why isn't it me in that bloody cottage with you? Why aren't I signing your name at the bottom of my christmas cards?"

"Not again! You know why not!"

"We should have stood up, like they did, told everyone, years ago!"

"Well maybe we should!" Harry yelled back. "But it's too fucking late now, isn't it?"

"I'm sick and tired of my mother asking me why I don't find someone and settle down. I have bloody found someone --"

"You'd rather hear what she says after you run off with her precious only daughter's husband?"

"Sometimes I hate you," George whispered. "Sometimes I just want to get on with my life."

There was silence apart from their laboured breathing for a few moments.

Then Harry asked, "Do you want me to go away?" They stared at each other. Harry sighed and looked down to the floor. His voice cracked as he added, "I've been thinking about you all the time. I missed you so much."

George's anger melted and his resolve broke. He crossed the tiled floor to take his lover in his arms. They folded into each other. George kissed the scruffy black hair on the top of Harry's head and he said, "I love you too."