Disclaimer: All characters, places and whatnot, property of JK. You know that, silly.

Author's notes: Not exactly as light-hearted as George's, but I think I'll do the next from Theo's point of view, before I continue with the rest of the story. Finish up this little subplot so you realize what's actually drifting through my head. Plus, I figure this is the easy way of explaining what Remus is going through, with a bit of fun.

The Loss: Etymology: Middle English los, probably back-formation from lost, past participle of losen to lose Ruin; Destruction 2 a : the act of losing possession b : the harm or privation resulting from loss or separation c : an instance of losing

3 : a person or thing or an amount that is lost: as a plural : killed, wounded, or captured soldiers b : the power diminution of a circuit or circuit element corresponding to conversion of electrical energy into heat by resistance

4 a : failure to gain, win, obtain, or utilize b : an amount by which the cost of an article or service exceeds the selling price

5 : decrease in amount, magnitude, or degree

6 : the amount of an insured's financial detriment by death or damage that the insurer becomes liable for

- at a loss : UNCERTAIN, PUZZLED

- for a loss : into a state of distress

7 : Referring to the final stages of Lycanthropy

The final stages of Lycanthropy, as defined by Newt Scamander, are as follows: Lowered blood pressure, failing of eyesight and an upset equilibrium. Bones become brittle and sufferers often report aching and 'wrongness' in their bodies. The last stage, final to them all, is the Final.

I glare at the book. All this about the Loss, and it turns out it's only a stage. So what are all the stages? So far I've found out about these six: the Bite, the First, Waking (this lasts the longest, usually decades at a time), Aging, Loss and the Final.

I've only found one thing about the Final. From what I understand of the scrawling, it's the last transformation that a lycanthrope ever goes through.

Sobering, isn't it?

George interrupts my thoughts as he runs into the room, an excited grin curling his lips and flushed cheeks. I realize his arms are full of rather large and decrepit, leather bound books.

"What's that?"

"That guy, the one from Flourish and Blott's, he just owled them over. He said that we could use them. They apparently have a lot about werewolves in here...Did you know there are more than just were/wolves? There are were-cats, and were-hyenas and..."

"How is this relevant?" I ask. Best to interrupt him early on.

"Oh...Um. It really isn't. But this book..." he shoves the top book towards me, "has the largest section on the Loss and the Final. A whole chapter for both. This one..." He puts the second one in front of me, "is more about the Dark Arts, but there's a few sections marked off about lycanthropy. And finally," he plops the last book down. Its hard to believe those three books filled his arms, but considering the size of them, actually I'm not too surprised. "This one has more on the changes of a lycanthrope, and is more theoretical, but it does have some firm science in..."

He's finally realized I've been watching him instead of the books. I feel like I don't know him. 'Dark Arts?' There was a time he wouldn't even touch anything /rumored/ to be dark in nature.

"What?" He blinks a few times, completely confused.

"That book is about Dark Arts, George."

"I know."

"But...Who is this Theo guy? What reason has he given you, anyway, to trust him?"

"What?" This was said in a slightly more high pitched voice, as if I'd something incredibly stupid, like I'd just eaten the sun.

"You heard me."

"He's just a friend. Listen, I know we can trust him."

"He said he was from another House."

"So?"

"What House, George?"

"That doesn't matter."

"What House, George?"

"Leave off it, Fred."

"George."

"Fred."

He gives me a nasty look. I return it.

"Slytherin."

I shake my head, incredulous. My brother, my twin, the one who used to climb into bed with because of a thunderstorm, or because the dark was scaring him...hanging around a Slytherin?

"Houses don't matter anymore, Fred. At least they shouldn't. I can't believe you're still stuck on that. I'd thought you'd mature just a bit since then."

"They do right now. Any day, at any time, You-Know-Who could..."

"That has nothing to do with Theo."

"Maybe it does. Who is his father?"

"Once again, taking the relevant..."

"George."

"Nott."

"Merlin's beard!" I know I'm overreacting. He knows it too. But we both go along with it. I shove all the books to one side and storm out of the room.

I wait outside the door, off to one side. I expect him to follow, if I stay here, he's least likely to see me. I don't want to talk to him. But then? He surprises me again. I hear him sit down and begin rifling through the pages. He's turning them too fervently. Trying to make noise.

The heave of breath between pages catches me off guard. Was I really that horribly cruel that I made my brother cry?

Silently, as I could manage, I slipped from the room, the store, the alley.

What had I done?
Remus is wrapped in a multitude of blankets, though the house is sweltering. Worst off, he's shaking. And pale. And...Merlin, if I look at him any longer I'm going to have a decent run of tears myself. Everyone else seems to have already.

Except George.

Remus keeps looking between us strangely. Squinting as he usually does, even behind those glasses Harry got for him. He's long since lost the sight necessary for the glasses to be remotely helpful.

If I look away...If I look away, he might fade out of existence.

He looks like nothing if not a bundle of bones forced under too small a bit of skin.

"Fred? George?" His first words to us today. He seems confused.

"Yes, Professor?" we ask simultaneously, and then turn to glare at one another simultaneously.

"They aren't standing together as they usually do, are they Harry?" He turns to the dark haired boy at his right.

Harry pushes his glasses up on his nose, staring at us for a moment before speaking. "No, Remus, they aren't."

"Oh. I thought my eyes were getting worse at a more rapid rate."

Harry shakes his head.

I look up at George.

He looks at me.

Cheeks redden.

A silent apology, and I extend an arm towards my brother, my twin, my everything, and he does the same. Fingers touch, curling onto one another. The familiar warmth of my brother's hand. Suddenly, at least one thing is right again.

"That's better," Remus croaks the announcement, completely ruining the mysticism of the moment. Harry laughs.

George and I can only smirk, because we're the only ones who know what actually passed between us.

"So you're fine with it?" George asks for nearly the hundredth (excuse my exaggeration, its closer to the third) time tonight.

I smile and nod, throwing another chocolate frog at him. He catches it and tears open the packaging.

So what was I fine with? I was fine with the idea that maybe George might have interests outside of me. I knew I did. I also realized how hard it had been for George when I had shouted that at him fourth year. It was like losing a piece of myself.

Yet I feel like I know him better for it.

I watch him as he tracks the movements of his frog, waiting for it to finish its jump. Once it stills into a solid bit of chocolate, George pounces and stuffs it in his mouth.

I laugh and roll my eyes, mockingly asking, "Do you do that for your Theo-boy too?"

George snorts and tackles me to the floor. "Of course not! That's a sight only a certain brother of mine is privy to."

I wrap my legs around his waist and flip him. "Aw...now I feel all warm and fuzzy inside!"

He twists awkwardly and pushes down on my shoulder, nearly freeing himself. An arm is curled behind my own, pinning me face down. "You sure it wasn't something you ate?"

I wiggle, finding myself almost completely immobile. "Possibly." I manage to twist in such a way that I can hit the ground twice with the palm of my hand.

George releases me and relaxes, leaning against the wall. He watches me a moment, silent.

"Did you want a cigarette?"

The question catches him off-guard and he snorts a bit of laughter. I know we should get back to our studying about the Final and whatnot (we know what the Loss is now...it's the Final that worries us), but I think we'll stay like this a bit longer. Banter flows free between us now and I settle my head on my brother's thigh, his fingers tangling in my hair. I think we deserve a bit of time to just be together.