Part Two: Incidence

The darkness in Hogwarts was indomitable, unstirred by moonlight and indifferent to silence. These were the nights in which the twins would lay awake, staring into the shadows and wondering if their eyes might be meeting in secret across the room. Sometimes, one of them would be brave enough to find out.

"George," Fred whispered, his voice barely audible. But George was awake, and thinking. He exhaled slowly as his surprised stomach settled, and reached out to where he had heard his name, finding his brother's wrist. The bed wheezed as the second twin was pulled down, and the two wrestled with the blankets until they were comfortably facing each other, swathed in cloth. They were silent for a few moments, comforted by the hushed sound of one another's breath.

"Fred," whispered the first twin, his eyes now confidently closed. Fred smiled without thinking and shuffled lightly inward before nodding, his forehead brushing against his brothers. "I'm going crazy," continued George, "Sleeping alone, that is. I got too used to our old room over the summer."

"The room we had two beds in?" Asked Fred, amusement evident even through the murmur.

"Like we used them," said George plainly.

Fred took a moment to respond, relaxing into the sheets.

"We'll get past it, Georgie. We've done it plenty." Fred put an arm limply over his brother's neck and breathed deeply, turning his head quietly towards the ceiling.

"Barely, Fred," he said slowly.

George would have normally expounded on this, but he was becoming contentedly drowsy. His nose brushed the nape of his twin's neck, and he moved anxiously to the side; as if afraid his brother would notice him there.

Now lying side-by-side, it felt emblematic of the strange distance that had been growing since the boys had begun attending Hogwarts. Neither of them wanted to admit that it would be unusual for them to stay as they were, and the silence endured. Through no means of reason, simply the pressure of time, Fred rolled over.

"Well," He said quietly, "You sleep well, Georgie. Don't forget I'm only a step off to your right." George hoped it was too dark for Fred to see his distress. What his brother said did not reassure him; the change had come on too slowly to confront, and now it felt as if there was no room to say anything at all.

However, change was something which persisted, whether one ignored it or not.

The first incident between the brothers was pure happenstance. In the quiet morning hour before Charms, they had routinely taken position in the most northwesterly corridor. It connected advantageously to a stairwell with a secret passageway laying ready for them behind the third tapestry, should their antics be discovered. There was never any traffic in this hallway, because it so happened that no class from that hour to the next connected there. Nevertheless, one morning, Filius Flitwick (of whom's class they should most certainly have been preparing for,) scurried in with his cape billowing behind him: abandoning his own preparation to make a spontaneous visit to the Defense Against The Dark Arts storeroom for blast-proof cloth. They would be learning the Bombarda charm today, and a certain pair of Weasley twins made the precaution seem absolutely necessary.

Hearing the fleet approaching steps, the brothers made a practiced evacuation: abandoning their prototype fizzing-fireworks where they lay. In harmony they dashed into the stairwell, up the steps, and threw aside the tapestry - but stopped in their tracks when they saw what lay behind. As was characteristic of the castle, the stone bricks had rearranged themselves in the night, (funny how they do so,) and created no more than a narrow alcove in the wall. The boys exchanged a brief look, before they heard Professor Flitwick's voice turn high in surprise at the mess they had left behind.

"Good enough," said Fred, and he tugged his brother forward.

To fit into the small space required them to squeeze together chest-to-chest with legs crossed at a jumbled, but balanced angle. George's head was tucked into his brother's elbow as he held him tightly, as if he were afraid he might lose footing and announce their presence. Fred stopped fighting his brother and trained his eyes on the narrow gap where the cloth met stone. They were precariously close to the open stairwell and even so much as their hurried breath could give them away.

Despite their peril, and despite the looming consequences of being caught for the third time this year causing havoc on school grounds, one of the two twins had entirely forgotten the reason they were fleeing at all. George felt nauseous with nerves. He was anxious in a way he had never been before in these situations. His breath had seized in his throat, and his stomach sank as if it were made of lead. He stared at his brother; who was still fixated unflinchingly on what he could see of the corridor. It was the closest they had been since they had shared a bed at the beginning of this same year.

Close calls were almost routine, and escape was practically always this dramatic. So then; if he wasn't afraid of being caught, then what?

It was being seen. Seen like this, pressed so thoroughly, so privately against his brother.

The thought was so forthrightly unsettling that he actually opened his mouth to say something, anything which might interrupt the thought. Fred detected the movement and in an instant clasped his hand against his brother's mouth, rougher than was necessary. George flinched in surprise, but as if in revelation fell still and silent. The Professor's steps sounded up the stairwell as he hurried upwards, whether on his business or looking for culprits, the twins could not tell. He was murmuring underneath his breath, (so close to them that they could hear it,) but his tone was indecipherable. It felt like a brief eternity before he moved on entirely, and all was silent at last. As George's nerves softened, he reached up and slowly uncovered his mouth, uncomfortably aware of the slight way the skin of his lips pulled against that of his brother's hand . They made eye contact, and for an indeterminate reason, it was uncomfortable.

"How did that happen?" Said Fred, though the reason wasn't entirely important, "I was sure nobody came down that hall this time of day."

"They don't," mumbled George, though obviously someone had.

In a gesture of goodwill, Fred grabbed his twin's hand and gave it a soft squeeze.

"Won't stop us," he said, "Any corridor's the same for this kind of foolishness."

George pulled away from him. He hesitated, not knowing why he had done it but regretting it instantly. Fred looked reproachful.

Why was this happening now?