Chapter four: The Room of Requirement

Fred's dreams gave him no peace.

Ever since they'd been little, he and George had had that certain bond that twins often have, the one that on certain occasions even permitted them to feel one another's emotions. That had been useful many times, because it meant they had an understanding for each other that was their alone, and that was special in the sense that they connected in a way no one else could.

But ever since he'd begun his 'thing' with Oliver, he'd felt that that bond might be withering, and it made him absolutely terrified. Therefore, it was no wonder his dreams were now filled with angst-visions of a future where they were no longer even remotely close, and where they were not open an honest with each other. If that was the future they were heading for, then he didn't want to be in it. His brother was his closest friend, confidant and soul mate. To realise a reality without him seemed like life without air to breath, or eyes to see with.
All would go absolutely dark.

So he was trying to find George. He had to tell him everything, had to make things right between them before it was too late. His brother had not come back to their dorm all night. Strangely, what worried Fred the most wasn't if something had happened to him, but rather whom he was with at the moment. It was a type of jealousy he found hard to analyse, but however obscure, it taunted him, stung him, and made his continuance of the daily life downright impossible.

He'd skipped Defence Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures and History of Magic, of which the latter one had been the easiest to live without attending, looking for his brother. Now, he was getting weary with running around the halls, making sure no teachers saw him and could ask why he was not in class, all the while looking for the smallest, most insignificant sign that George might've passed through there during the day.

He was in a corridor on the seventh floor now, wishing like mad that he had an Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map with him. But both of those artefacts were in Harry's possession, and he didn't feel like explaining himself to him right now. He did have his wand, but it wasn't good for much else than Alohomora this time. It was pretty dark, because there were no windows, and he had to strain himself to be able to avoid walking into objects in his path. He was amazed at how many strange things you could find lying around in a corridor. He steered to the left, trying to avoid colliding with a huge statue he couldn't recognise as anything he'd ever seen before. He was starting to wonder whether he'd become lost in this corridor and considered turning around and going in the other direction, back to where he'd come from.

Suddenly, he found himself being jerked into an even darker, small space on his right that he hadn't even noticed. He heard a door close behind him, and then, someone took his wand away from his hand.
"Hey! Give that back!" Fred shouted, but his shout was somewhat muffled by a hand being placed on his mouth. It felt familiar. Then, the hand was withdrawn. It was then he realised who had ambushed him.

"Really freakin' funny, Wood. A whole bundle of laughs. Now let me go!"
"Lumos." Fred's wand lit up like a candle, and light was cast on Oliver Wood's smirking face. "Hello, Weasley," he said loftily.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Might've Stunned you if you hadn't taken my wand. I have places to go, idiot, did it ever occur to you that I have a life besides these little meetings with you? And what is this place, anyway? I've never seen this room before." Though the room was but dimly lit from the wand, Fred could see the outlines of some sort of furniture at the other end of the room. It was either a bed or a sofa, he could tell. Then, he tried to focus on Oliver again.
Wood cocked an eyebrow, looking superior in every sense of the word. "This is the Room of Requirement. It appears when you need it, and contains whatever you need at the moment. Hence the name. Thought you might be up to a little fun."
So that piece of furniture at the end of the room was a bed after all. Fred suddenly felt fury rush through him. Who the hell did Wood think he was? "Yeah? Well, guess what – you thought wrong. I don't have the time or the patience to play mind-games with you, Oliver. Go harass someone else."
Fred's brusque retort made Wood wipe off the smirk on his face. "What, suddenly you're the virgin-fucking-Mary? Harass? I seem to recall you being in on it. I seem to recall you begging for it."
George kicked himself mentally. It was true. He had begged for it, because he'd been weak. Weak. He didn't plan on ever being that weak again.
"I begged," he said, his eyes aglow with intensity. "I did, but I won't do it again."
"Oh, no?" Oliver leered. "It wasn't just one time, Fred." Fred felt a chill run down his spine when he heard Oliver utter his name. He hated himself for it, but he had a hard time being strong and saying no when all he really wanted to do was give in. "Yesterday was our freakin' half-year anniversary. Look, Weasley, if you'd said no when first I approached you, it would've been an entirely different thing. I wouldn't be standing here right now, in the shadows, waiting for you to come by. And I wouldn't force myself upon you." He took a step closer. "But as it is now, you've been in this way too long to suddenly just back out. I know you want me, I know you do. So just shut up –"
"I do want you," Fred interrupted. "But it's hard having to lie to everyone, and especially to George."
"Go ahead and tell him, then," half-whispered Oliver, placing his arms around Fred's waist like he'd done so many times before. Fred let him. "See what he says. I'm sure he won't have a problem with it. Your family seems open-minded and all that crap."
"What would I tell him, then?" Fred burst furiously. "I would tell him, what, that I've been screwing you? That we're in a relationship? Please inform me, if you know, Oliver – what the fuck is going on between us?"
Oliver eyed him slowly. The silence was like silk embedding them both. Then, he asked, "Is it important?"
"If I'm going to tell him, it is."
"What defines a relationship, then?" Wood asked. "Some people might say holding hands, and flowers and boxes of chocolate once a year on Valentine's Day. Actually, that's probably how most people define a relationship, and then there's the occasional fucking, but instead it's called 'making love'. Personally, I've never been into labelling things. I'm content with things the way they are." He paused, looking into Fred's eyes earnestly. "I know where I stand."
"Where do you stand?" Fred could hardly breathe now; he was entranced. Entranced by the circumstances – the two of them together, in a cupboard unknown to everyone else.
"Right here next to you," Wood whispered, and kissed him. Fred didn't recoil. It was the weakness again, making him surrender without so much as a fight. The fact of the matter was, he liked having Oliver close. That was why he hadn't broken it off before, and that was why he had such difficulty doing it now. And as much as he knew that it was keeping him and his brother apart – telling had never been the better option – he didn't see how he could give Oliver up without regretting it forever.

"Damn it," Fred mumbled midst passionate kisses. "Screw this being noble and persistently chaste, I don't fucking care anymore. I need you."
Oliver broke the kiss off, and when he looked into his eyes, Fred could see there was doubt in them, as though he was insecure. But Fred had never known him to be insecure before. He frowned.
"You're lying."
"What?"
"You're lying," he repeated, "about you needing me. You're only doing this half-heartened anyway, 'cause you can't control yourself…"
"No, honest, I do. I'll figure out some way to deal with George, I'll do anything, because I really do. Need you, I mean." When Fred had said this, he felt surer of how he felt than ever before. He did need him, and he did want him. And that was really all that was important at the moment. What was the problem? They had nothing, nothing standing in their way. As soon as he'd told George things would be fine, and the guilt would be gone.

"No one's ever said that to me before," Oliver whispered.
Fred felt it was surreal that Oliver would say something like that. It had been about everything but feelings before, and now he'd suddenly opened up, if only for a little bit. It was a step in the right direction.
"Then I'll say it more often." Fred smiled. "Now… where were we?" And he enclosed the Quidditch Captain in his arms and kissed him once more.
"Nox," mumbled Oliver, and the small light at the tip of Fred's wand went out and left the room completely dark.