A/N: Okay, now, I should say this now: I'm not going to comment on every single review and/or reviewer every chapter, because for the first time since ever I'm getting enough reviews to keep my ego happy and my head full of ideas, and so it would take up way too much space, making me think that I've written much more than I have because most of it was a stupid author's note, thus resulting in shorter chapters for you. Yeah, suck. Also, this is a really, really long chapter not for the faint or fluffy of heart. gasp Yeah, I'm making up for my long span of inactivity, during which I WAS writing… just on paper, using my hands, during study halls and the like. (Mum is easily misled and thinks that just because I have a textbook open and am writing, I'm doing homework.) Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, I just have to comment on ONE SINGLE REVIEWER, because it made me laugh in that it was both praise and chastisement (that I already talked about!) in one. So, thank you, Mizukimarr910. Her review was as follows:

"wow you had better get rid of that cig. real fast because that does not look good in fred's mouth and is george dating allison to get his mind off of fred? because if he is then that makes since but if he's not that sucks! i love the story but please get the two together really soon. the idea of fred or george being with anyone else in a strictly fred george fic is really wierd. please keep writing and update again soon.

thanx mizukimarr910"

Now, it's the first part that I'm addressing, as D'UH George is dating Allison to get his mind of Fred. And did I NOT mention that it would take them a loooong time to get together? If you want a quick fix, read something else. My dear friend Spoonsharpwit has at least two under her belt, though the newest F/G fic will make you cry. (Well, it made me cry. She's good at that, you know.) Okay, anyway. FRED WILL REMAIN A SMOKER FOR A LONG, LONG TIME. I think smokers are SEXY, which horrible, I know, but it's just true. It's a filthy habit that I'd never pick up myself, but in depressed willowy boys it's just HOT. shrug I think it looks VERY good in Fred's mouth, damnit. So. There that is.

Also, 10 points to whoever can explain my oh-so-clever (not) play on words in this chapter's title. Heh. Last thing: this chapter is where it starts to deserve it's rating. I'm fond of the word "fuck". CULTURAL NOTE: to "bugger" means to give or take it in the ass, so "bugger off" essentially means to go fuck oneself in the ass. Clear? Good. (Because I'm afraid that unless you know that, the phrase won't have the right impact when I use it.)

Ever onward and… slightly to the left!

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Chapter 4: Brilliance

Only when the sun had sunken low enough in the sky that the shadows of the room began to encroach upon his face did Fred arise. The common was empty. It must be dinnertime, down there. Fred wondered if George was eating with Lee, maybe even Allison. Was he happy? Had he been hurt their… whatever that had been? He willed himself not to think of George's smile, slightly crooked and full of mischief, or his laugh, that easy, carefree thing that started in his chest and bubbled up to light his eyes so very beautifully and could pick you up in such as dance as… No, Fred. Bad Fred. Don't think that way.

A red jacket hung over the back of a chair—George's. Fred gently lifted it up. George's warmth still lingered on it. Fred put it on, a little hesitantly, and then left Griffindor Tower to go eat. When he arrived in the Great Hall, he was unsure of whether he felt relief or dejection not to see George. Then again, what could he possibly say to his brother? "I'm sorry"? "I didn't mean it"? No. Fred felt the strangest sense of betrayal, as if George's dating Allison had been a slight against him. No, no, he would not take those words back. "Bugger off, George," Fred said softly to himself with a little awe. Had he really told his other self to go fuck himself in the ass? This world he was creating was full of surprises.

"Oi, Fred!" It was Ron. Fred waved and took a seat, deliberately wedging himself between Hermione and his little brother. Both looked as if they wanted to protest but were too embarrassed to do so. Across the table, Ginny giggled.

"Hello Fred," Harry told Fred distractedly. Following Harry's line of sigh, Fred saw Malfoy giving the boy looks. He almost gagged, then remembered what Harry had done last time. The redhead winced in memory.

"Have any of you seen George?" He asked as casually as he was able. They all shook their heads.

"Oh!" Neville looked straight at Fred as he chewed on a slice of soup-soaked bread. "Last I saw him, he was with that McCallister girl." Fred winced slightly at her mention. After a moment, he stood.

"Well, it was nice playing with you kiddies, but I'm off to bed." He bowed foppishly and then was off.

Up the stairs he climbed, using the rhythm of his footfalls to substitute for thought. Thinking led to dangerous places… places he was not ready to go. Maybe I'll apologize. …Thmpthmpthmpthmpthmpthmp… He's cute when he's angry. …ThmpthmpthmpthmpthmpSTOP. He reached the portrait of the Fat Lady that marked the entrance to the Griffindor common.

"Shuttlecock," Fred said absently. Did I really just think that? The portrait swung open, and he went inside. That's… not… Fred took off George's jacked and walked upstairs to the dormitory, absorbed in his own thoughts. Oh, god! Please please please don't let me really be in love with— There were two figures on his bed, and what they were doing was unmistakable. The one on bottom, he realized, was Allison, which mean that the other was…

"—George?" They stopped, and there was this moment where everything was silent and still still still. Fred could not see the other person's face yet. He prayed with all his might to any gods that would listen, that he was wrong, though he knew that silhouette, so dear to him was it… Please, if there is a God in Heaven, let me be wrong.

"Fred…" George's voice, it was George's voice and oh GOD OH GOD…!

"Fuck." Fred swore quietly. "Fuck fuck fuck…"

"Fred—"

"What is it, George? –Oh, Fred! Gawd, if you're that desperate for the sight of some tits you could have just asked me and I'd—"

"Fuck."

"Fred, please…" George stood up. Fred looked away. "Fre—"

"FUCK." Turn, leave. Run away. Fred, run away, you know that's all you can do now. Run as far way as you can… "FUCK, George!" Anger came, hot and brilliant and it burned away his hurt and betrayal. "On my fucking BED, for Christssake, George! Not even your own! I mean… FUCK!"

"Please, please, Fred, don't yell—"

"What?! You're fucking this twat on my bed, and you don't want me to yell?!" That's it. Hold fast to the anger, to the rage. Anything but the sorrow that'll break you into a million burning pieces. "I—" NO! Do not say that! Do not! Fred made inarticulate raged noises.

"Please…" That last "please" did him in. With a shout, he stormed downstairs into the common room, to be followed minutes later by George, who had the sense to put on pants first. (But not underwear. Goddamned tease, he must know what he's doing!) "Fred! What the Hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing! Nothing at all!" The click of a lighter as he lit a cigarette. "In fact, the whole world is so fucking peachy, I think I'll dance and sing! Is that what you want to hear?" Fred glared mercilessly at his twin, who looked like a disheveled angel with a halo of fire, beautiful patron saint of innocent confusion and hurt. Damn him.

"No! Damn you, Fred! I want to know what the Hell is going on with you!" George's eyes blazed. Oh, George. So full of beautifully pure emotions. The only thing that isn't warped and ugly now.

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do! Tell me, and tell me the truth, not some bullshit excuse!"

"FINE!" Fred roared. "The truth is, I'm in love with—" he couldn't say it. At Fred's silence, his twin grew angrier.

"Augh, Fred! I'm so fucking tired of the bloody moodswings you've been having lately! If you won't tell me, then go piss off!"

"I will!"

The slamming of doors, the hard clip of wrathful footsteps. Then, Fred was alone. Not just by himself, but alone. He'd messed it up, overreacted. At least he knew now what he felt, thought the knowledge that he was in love with his own twin brother brought little comfort. He went to his rooftop, and screamed himself to sleep.

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