Lee's brows furrowed together suspiciously, then shrugged the thought off to himself.

"Went downstairs early I think," Lee explained, "wasn't up here when I got up this morning."

Fred, threw his covers to one side, swinging his legs around to the edge of the bed. He stood up, stretching, exaggeratedly, letting a yawn escape his lips. When he had finished with this process, he placed a hand to his head, raking through his strawberry tresses.

"What did ya wake me up for Lee? It's Saturday, if you haven't noticed--"

"And eleven , if I might add." Lee cut him off in a matter-of-factly tone.

"Ah, jeez.." Fred announced depressively through a yawn. He placed a few fingers to his ribs, scratching the side, right against his bare skin. "Lee, do you--" Bare skin. That had stopped Fred's train of thought, Feeling his fingers against flesh. He had almost forgotten his dream and still wished he had.

Fred turned his attention back to his bed, completely disregarding companion. Scrambling through burgundy sheets and blankets, the panicked twin froze almost immediately when hearing Lee's mocking voice behind him.

"Missing something, Freddy?" Lee grinned broadly, as if he was the happiest man on earth, dangling the shirt in front of the scarlet-haired boy's face. " Busy last night, little buddy?"

"I am not little, so just shut yer yap!" Fred growled, snatching the piece of clothing from the other boy's grasp. " Where do you think, George is, Lee?" came Fred's muffled voice as he threw the shirt on over his head.

"Probably in the Common Room. But shouldn't you know where he's be? You guys are twi--"

"Thanks, Lee." Fred intervened, in a frantic hurry, exiting the room.

"Yeah sure.." Lee said to himself, waving puzzled to no one, " Anytime."

------

Fred was distraught. How had Lee gotten hold of his shirt? He had put it on last night. There was no mistake about that. But.. His dream couldn't be real, could it? Absolutely not! The idea almost made him sick to believe he would envision something like that. His own brother, his twin, playing in his dreams.

Fred was angry at George, not in love. And he proceeded to stay that way. He needn't ponder his hallucinations from that night, if a dream was really what it was. But how could it be real? It was dirty, distasteful and above all incest. His own flesh in blood, being that as it may, classified this as a nightmare.

Where in his subconscious had this come from? It couldn't have been a fantasy. Maybe it was because his infatuation with Katie and mixed emotions against George, had made his mind go to mush, stirring this all together.

But the fact that Lee had possession of his clothing, meant that at sometime during the night he had lost it. And the only way that could have possibly happened if he himself removed it or someone else did. That inclined that -- ' No!', Fred perplexed inwardly, 'It was not real! That did not happen last night.' His, twin his confidant, did not that swing that way, seeing the way he was acting last night. And as far as Fred himself knew it, George was not into guys, nonetheless his own sibling.

Fred paused at the foot of the stairwell, peering warily across the spread of the room. There is where he recognized two unmistakable figures. The freckled-faced, red-headed mirror image of himself and the fairly tall, dirty blonde haired, Gryffindor Chaser, both lip-locked in the middle of the Common Room.

"George!" Sounded a pained roar from Fred's side of the room.

The pair instantly removed themselves from the affectionate embrace. All color drained, not only from George, but from Katie's face as well.

"Fred.." George pleaded to him.

"George?" Katie questioned to the twin by her side.

The dialogue between the three had occurred quickly enough, that when George began to try and explain the dilemma he was disrupted by a heavy thud of Fred's body, crumbling to the floor in a light-headed faint.

-------

"Fred..?" Came the urgent whisper.

A groggy moan emitted from his throat, his eyes slowly parting, revealing the face of Katie Bell, gazing over him. Her delicate hand was pressed against his cheek, a distressed look painted along her face,

She, seeing that he was now conscious, beamed, sighing in relief. Her head turned to one side, getting the attention of the other occupant in the room.

"George, he's awake."