Dismissive gestures were replaced with knowing smiles. Conversation became easy, elegant and flirtatious. The 'devil-may-care' attitude that they were so well known for did not change a bit, but suddenly they were occupying it honestly. If an opportunity presented itself for a brief moment together, they seized it.
In one such instance, when the eerie moonlit glow over Hogwarts was at its dimmest and George was as sure as he could be that no other student was awake, he rose. He snuck to the edge of his brother's bed and fell silently over him, kissing his cheek firmly and lovingly. His brother stifled a surprised noise, something which sounded in between a chortle and a gasp.
"George!" he whispered, jostling him in protest.
"I just wanted to say goodnight," George replied under his breath, softly pinching his brother's other cheek.
"You already said goodnight," Fred objected.
"I didn't think it was convincing," George maintained, leaning further over the bed. Fred pulled him down and kissed him on the lips, which surprised and delighted him quite terribly. He wore a stupid smile when they came apart.
"Real discrete, Mate," he goaded.
Fred whispered a stubborn "Goodnight," in turn. George felt tremendously overwhelmed with affection.
"I love you, Fred," he murmured. It was something he had begun saying quite often. Tonight, Fred returned it.
"I love you too, Georgie."
There it was. His heart skipped a beat. The new feeling growing in George's chest was both wonderful and worrisome at once. He could not bear to reject it, however. Could there be anything more natural and more expected then those five words in particular?
George fell into his own bed, which felt warmer than it had been when he left it. He looked across the dark room with a familiar pang, and wondered once again if he might be meeting his brother's eyes across it.
They were used to being careful. After a lifetime of general tomfoolery, they were quite practiced at avoiding detection, of knowing where to be and when to be there. The secrecy of the affair, the inherent taboo need not be mentioned. They were already hiding. It all felt quite natural to them.
Of course, it made what remained of their sixth year at Hogwarts pass incredibly quickly, and for once, neither of them were longing for the Summer Holiday to arrive. In fact, Fred was dreading it. There was no hiding that fact from his brother, as he read him well and was no longer afraid to make that known.
"Freddie," he would whisper as they prepared for morning classes, or in a quiet hallway when they were out after hours. "Chin up, mate." He didn't ask after what caused it. Quietly, Fred wanted him to. It was George who initiated the conversation that brought them here, who found the right words and the right way to say them. He felt paralyzed by the endless possible paths that a new, and very serious, conversation could take. It was altogether too easy to conjure the image of his brother's face falling, to hear him stumbling over his words. But then, was it fair to him? Was it just a repeat of his first mistake, to be as visibly upset as possible until it was understood that he was asking for help? Fred Weasley made up his mind.
It was May, and the weather had been particularly mild all season. Little rain fell, and even less sun shone. Lacewing flies were quite common around the Great Lake, and they looked like little strands of cotton drifting about from any measure of distance. Fred had asked George to follow him there while lunch went on without them in the Great Hall. George seemed distracted, pleasantly so, biting into a pumpkin pasty (which he had swiped from Lee Jordan on the way out the door,) and detailing an idea for an edible gag which made you bark whenever you attempted to speak. George seemed so much himself these days, so cheerful. Fred wanted him to be able to be carefree, always.
What are we doing, mate? Fred practiced in his own mind. The tone was harsh, stiff.
What happens when we go home, Georgie? He tried instead, but it felt dishonest to introduce a topic which he himself was afraid to discuss.
What does it mean that we're like this? Why have I never wanted anybody else? That one made his stomach lurch, as he realized that there was a confession inside of it as well. He blinked once, and considered the fact that he had no idea, really, if his brother felt the same way. The new question came to mind, almost as inutterable as the last.
What will you do when you meet somebody?
"Fred?" asked George, giving an expectant raise of his eyebrows..
Fred looked at his brother, unable to hide his surprise.
"Sorry mate, what's that?" He asked in a sincere tone.
George considered him, and after a moment he smiled sadly. He drew closer to him and lowered his voice.
"You're still upset, eh Fred?" he said quietly. Fred watched his twin's face, and tried to monitor his own.
"I wanted to talk about that, actually," Fred returned as casually as possible. He noted with something like chagrin that this seemed to genuinely surprise his brother.
"Yeah," said George deliberately. "Of course."
It was farther than Fred had expected to get. He shifted awkwardly where he stood and looked out over the expanse of the lake. He could sense that George was still watching him.
"After this, we've one year left," said Fred bluntly.
"I see you've still got counting down. Ace, that," George teased. Fred grinned automatically and countered with a look of mock-reproach. Everything was so easy with his brother. Then, his worries returned as if they were pursuing him and his stomach sank. His expression must have fallen as well, because George looked suddenly concerned.
"Mate?" he prompted.
Fred furrowed his brow, and avoided his brother's eye. He took a breath and seized his courage.
"What are we going to do when we get home?" he said in a low voice, then more confidently, "Merlin, what about after that?" When at first his brother did not respond, he felt emboldened. "I mean, it's not like it is here, George, at some point we're going to be somebody, we're going to have to watch every little move. We're going to have to -"
Fred was cut short abruptly. George closed the gap between them and took him with practiced ease by the back of his head, kissing him. A shiver ran through Fred's body. The carelessness of the gesture arrested him fully, but he was helpless to the fondness with which it was delivered. George pulled away just enough to murmur against his lips.
"You're somebody now, Freddie."
Fred felt uninvited tears well up. A wave of weakness and frustration overtook him, and he surrendered to it. He fell forward, burying his face into his brother's shoulder and choking on a sob. The sound was a punch in George's gut and he found himself breathless for a moment. Then, he grew somber and accepting and wrapped his arms closely around his beloved twin. Fred wept, and his body shook with the force of it. George's own eyes brimmed sympathetically and he pressed his cheek hard against his brother's head.
George held him for a long time, indifferent to the passage of time. He waited until the sound and the motions ebbed, softly kissing the side of his head. Whether it was doubt or confrontation which catalyzed the breakdown, he wasn't sure. He only knew that he was grateful that his brother released it, turned out where it could no longer gnaw his insides.
Furthermore, there was no easy answer to any one of Fred's questions. The reality of the situation was this; absolutely no one could offer them any guidance. As had been the case so very often in their lives; the only thing they could rely on was each other.