Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended

Answers to reviews:

To fishnetfairy, slytherinrose,yaukira,mistik-elf13, and Cianna Greenwood(and others who reviewed after I wrote this chapter...hehe):

OF COURSE it was a dream! I'm so glad you're all smart and pay attention to detail!I'd NEVER kill off Fred or George. Fred and George, maybe, but I'd never kill one without the other!!! So er... right.

To Clarissa:

I tried to email you but I don't know if you got it or not.

To all my other reviewers: Thank you so much! huggles

Also, to those of you that didn't notice, I DID put a warning in the summary. This IS twincest. If you find it wrong in anyway, please don't send a review with your opinions on twincest. This is fan fiction. It does not reflect how I feel about twincest either. Again, if you find twincest wrong then simply don't read the story. If you're okay with it...read on!

A/N: I realize I'm being long winded (sorry about that) but I just need to write this and then on with the next chapter. The reason I took so long to update was because I went on a trip to my aunts house where I had five minutes a day with a computer. Hopefully, the next chapter will not be as long. Oh, and just a reminder than although in most fanfics dreams are prophetic, that is not necessarily true of ALL fanfics. Though it might be the case in this one, there's also a chance it might not be. Anywho, I think that's enough for this chapter: ONWARD!

Chapter 4: When Hiding Isn't Enough: part II

He was all alone. An endless darkness was spread before him, surrounding him, stretching in all directions, pressing against his eyes. It didn't matter whether they were opened or closed. He saw nothing. He was suffocating in the darkness.

"Fred?" he called out. He was afraid to move from his spot, afraid of what he could not see.

"Fred," he yelled and then louder still, "FRED."

"FRED! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? THIS ISN'T FUNNY!" He was desperate, so desperate, so scared, so lost without his twin, without his other half. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked himself to calm his pounding heart. Suddenly, he heard footsteps, and a warm hand was placed gently on his shoulder.

"George, dear, are you all right?" He searched frantically for that warmth.

"Mum? Is that you? Where's Fred? Where are we?"

"Sweetheart, he's gone, remember?" she said lovingly. "Now, let's get out of here. What are you doing in this closet anyway?" "What closet? What do you mean Fred's gone?" "Just open your eyes, dear." George's hand flew to his eyes. Indeed, they were closed. He opened them to find that he was sitting in a closet at the Burrow. His mother was standing before him offering her hand to help him up. He took it, and as soon as he did... He was at a party. "What are we celebrating?" he asked his mum. "Why Fred's death, of course!" she said with a smile. George felt his blood rush to his head. There was an incessant pounding that he barely recognized as his heart. His throat seemed clogged with something, and his mouth went dry. He didn't understand what was happening, not at all. The party was full of people he didn't know. Distant relatives, he supposed. In a corner of the room re could make out the shape of coffins, and by the way they were glinting, he could tell that the lid was made of glass, so that people could peer at the corpses.

Two of the corpses were already half rotten, but George could not mistake them: Glenn and Patrick. The other, unmarked, corpse looked as though the person had not died, but was merely sleeping. He looked so perfect, so angelic.

George screamed.

It was Fred.

Suddenly, a young girl walked right into him, knocking the wind out of him.

"Having fun?" she said with a grin. George shoved her out of the way, disgusted by her for some reason he couldn't quite place. He turned to his mother.

"Well, I said I wouldn't tell you, but I'll give you your surprise now," she said with a gentle smile that had once warmed his heart, but now only brought a feeling of foreboding. She whispered in his ear, "I killed him, and you helped me. Oh, all right, you more than helped me. I wouldn't have been able to pull it off without you!" She was no longer smiling. Instead, her lip was curled up into a snarl. His mother's usually kind face looked twisted, grotesque, and horribly evil.

"Y-you killed him?" he breathed. She nodded happily.

"Aren't you pleased?"

"You monster," he screamed and ran towards where his brother and uncles lay. He took his twin's cold, lifeless hand into his own.

"Fred, Fred," he repeated as he sobbed over and over. Every time he said his brother's name he heard someone say his own name.

"George."

He looked around for the source, and was shocked to see that it came from the corpses of Glenn and Patrick. The empty sockets were looking into his very soul. The fleshless fingers of brittle bone pointed at him, accusing him, blaming him.

"NOOO!" he screamed. "I'd never do that...NEVER!"

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"Wake up, George," said Fred as he tried to shake the boy awake while dodging the flailing arms. He had already been bumped off the bed twice and had received several blows to the head.

"GEORGE," he yelled desperately trying to wake his twin. Of course, no one else in the dormitory stirred. The Silencing Charm they had placed earlier took care of that.

Just as suddenly as he started to thrash about, he stopped and sat upright. In a tangle of sheets and sweat, he called out to his brother.

"I'm right here," said Fred softly. He fumbled around in the darkness until he had his arms around his brother while he cried and mumbled incoherently.

"Please...not dead...I didn't mean....Fred...oh God...Glenn and Patrick...you were...damn, it was...so scared...so lost..."

"Shhh, it's okay. It was only a dream, and I'm right here. I'll always be right here," he comforted. There was a pause.

"Always?"

"Always," he assured. George's hands searched for Fred's face, for the feel of his chin, his cheek, his lips...anything, any part of his brother, his love.

"We're exactly the same," he sighed. Fred laughed.

"Yeah, most people would think that you would have noticed this several years ago. After all, we've been this way for our entire lives." They both laughed.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"Just for being her, and being you." He pulled Fred's face towards his own until their lips met in a soft tender kiss.

"I love you, babe," whispered George.

"So do I, but if you call me babe again, I'll have to biteyou." George lay down and pulled his brother on top of him.

"Babe," he said softly against Fred's ear. Fred did as promised, eliciting a moan from George. "Please, don't die."

"We all have to die someday," said Fred, lips against his brother's neck

"Then don't die without me."

"I wont," he promised. Contented for now, George started grinding his hips against his brother's. Eventually, they lost track of who was doing what to whom, as they always did, and concentrated on enjoying each other and taking pleasure in their complete unity.

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After they came, they lay in a heap, unwilling to break their fragile comfort with words. Fred fell asleep against his twin's chest. George stroked his back, wanting to touch every part of him, wanting to reach out and touch his soul because he knew that if he could find Fred's soul, he could find his own.

He ran his fingers through Fred's hair, brushed his cheek with his fingers, and kissed each eyelid. He couldn't explain everything he was feeling that night. Mostly, it was a sense that something was approaching, something that reeked of death and old, dried-up blood, something that was definitely not good. As he lay there, contemplating his morbid sensations, he vaguely wondered if Fred felt it too. That was odd...

It was the first time he ever wondered what Fred felt. Usually, he just knew. He didn't like not knowing. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even himself, but he was scared of those thoughts, scared of not knowing what was to come. He was scared for himself, but mostly scared for Fred. He took his brother's hand, kissed the palm, and hoped against hope that they would get through it. Whatever it happened to be.

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A/N2: Sorry! Sorry! I promise I'll leave you alone after this, but I'm still in the search for a Beta (grumble) and so, anyone interested can email me. PLEASE. bows