Chapter two: Avoidance
After his meeting with Oliver, Fred felt even more ashamed and guilty than before. Ambivalence ruled him – one minute, he wanted to just come out and tell his brother the truth, but the next, everything was just too confusing to even think about. What was the truth, exactly? What was he doing? Did it actually mean something, or were they just two adolescent boys fucking for the hell of it? He didn't know what prospect frightened him the most.
He walked into the Gryffindor common room at 630 in the evening. George was sitting by the fireplace with Lee, talking eagerly and what appeared to be a blast. Any other night, Fred would've happily joined his friends, but now… now he just felt like crawling into bed – alone – and hiding under the covers until daybreak.
He managed to sneak his way to his bed without being detected by anyone. At least, that's what he thought – right up until he'd laid himself down on his bed, still fully dressed, and closed his eyes.
"You thought you could just sneak up here without me noticing?
Fred opened his eyes again, very tiredly. His twin was standing in the doorway, leaning comfortably against it. A sudden rage filled Fred – sure, integrity wasn't something he had the luxury of enjoying, seeing as he shared his room with his brother, but when he really needed it, the lack of it seemed all the more apparent.
"Foolish of me," he muttered, sitting up and swinging his legs over the bedside so that he could sit and face George. "Foolish to think I could get any privacy – ever."
He hadn't intended for his tone of voice to be so harsh, but he felt like his one opportunity to be by himself had just been eliminated, and it made him see red.
"Jeez, what's with the attitude, bro? I was just going to ask you something."
"Is it important?" Fred grumbled.
"To me it is," George said indignantly, stepping inside the room in a most threatening way. It was obvious he was very upset. "But I suppose you're too busy avoiding me to care."
"Avoiding you? No, George, it's not…"
"It's all you ever do these days, isn't it?" George interrupted. "You stay late at practice –"
"I was taking a shower!"
"– you're always the last one to come back from there. You sneak off by yourself to placed I don't know and you're gone for hours…"
Fred thought about this. He thought about the rendezvous with Oliver two weeks ago, near the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. That had been exciting. They'd made out on a grassy knoll, but then Hagrid had come along, Fang in a short leash, and they'd had to make a run for it – semi-naked. Maybe he hadn't been as careful as he'd thought handling this affair. Then again, George was quite observant.
"It's like you'd rather be anywhere but near me," George concluded. His expression had now gone from angry to hurt. Fred wished he'd stayed mad instead. A mad brother he could handle with his conscience intact. Now, a hurt one…
"That's so not true!" Fred exclaimed; he knew he had to convince him. "If you'd just listen… look, I'm tired, okay? I'll explain everything in the morning, when we're both rested. Sound good?"
"Suit yourself." George turned his back on Fred. Just as he was about to close the door behind him, he said: "I'm going out. With Lee."
"Out? Where?" Suddenly, Fred felt left out, and it stung him like a poisonous dart. The worst thing about it, though, was that he couldn't blame his brother for shutting him out. After all, he was shutting him out. And even though he planned on telling him tomorrow, he'd been keeping this big secret from George for months now. Would it really help if he told him? Wouldn't he be mad forever anyway?
"It's none of your business," snapped George, now halfway out of the doorway. "And that was your own choice. Remember that."
As his brother closed the door to their mutual room, Fred felt like something broke inside him.