Oh my god~ I really am back! I am so sorry these updates are so few and far between, but you have to understand that I have marching band, and school, and they're both taking a lot out of me. It seems like when I'm not doing one of those two things, I'm sleeping. I know that's a terrible excuse, and I hope you'll find it within you to forgive me!

Disclaimer: same old, same old. I'm still poor and not making any money off of this fanfic.

Something exploded in the downstairs region of the Weasley household. Someone shrieked and Fred snickered from his spot on the floor in his bedroom. His mother screamed his name, but he didn't move. He didn't see why if he technically wasn't part of their family anymore he had to listen to what Molly said. He looked over at the crate in the corner and silently mourned the fact that was the last of his Fillibuster Fireworks. He sighed and stood up, trying to find something else to cause havoc with. As he perused his room, his stomach growled at him almost angrily, and he growled right back.

"Shut up." He commanded quietly. "You reminding me that you're hungry isn't going to help anything. Might as well just stay quiet about it." His stomach didn't listen and gurgled at him once more. He sat on the foot of hid bed and moaned, clutching himself around the middle. It had been at least two days - three? - since he'd eaten last. Molly had decided since he was no longer her son, he couldn't eat her food. He'd tried conjuring something, anything, but failed. He remembered possibly hearing conjuring food was impossible in one of his classes, but he thought he'd give it a go anyway.

That beside the point, as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, he was hungry. Painfully so. He decided he needed to focus on finding a way out rather than another prank to pull. He returned to looking around his room and snatched up a maroon bag from the knob of his closet door. He began summoning things to put inside it- clothes, blankets, an extra cloak, an almost empty bag from Zonko's- things he would need when he left, because he was going to leave. He couldn't take it there for another day.

Fred surveyed his room, checking that he had everything he was going to want packed. His eyes settled on a gray and yellow hat with strings and tassels that hung over the ears. George's hat. He always had teased him and told him how stupid it looked on him. But right now, it was the most appealing thing in the whole room. He picked it up and shoved it over his tresses of red hair. He clutched the tassels with all his might and felt another batch of hot tears trying to fight their way past the fortress of his eyelids.

"Hey, faggot!" someone's voice echoed up the stairs. Fred cringed. "Mum wants you to come down and clean up from dinner!"

The voice was Ron's. Of course she did. She might not let him eat, but she was sure treating him like a slave. He fleetingly thought he knew how it felt to be Harry and live with his relatives. He took the hat by the ball of strings that sat on the top and pulled it off his head, throwing it on to the top of his bag and leaving his room.

When he got into the kitchen, the smells of dinner still clung onto the air. It smelled like chicken and mashed potatoes with cheese inside them. Fred closed his eyes, all this not eating was starting to make him dizzy. He sighed and opened his eyes again, turning on the water and pouring soap into the sink. Of course he wasn't allowed to clean with magic. No, it couldn't be that easy. He had scrubbed each plate clean and was stacking them back in the cupboard when his father entered the room. Fred swallowed and continued what he was doing, ignoring his presence.

"Hey, Fred?"

"What do you want me to do now? I've just cleaned the whole kitchen. There isn't anything else for me to do."

"No, I wasn't going to ask you to do anything." Arthur said almost awkwardly.

"What do you want then?"

"Um. Are you okay, Fred?" He asked lamely. This had gone much better in his head.

"Oh, I'm just peachy." Fred said nastily, those threatening tears again brimming close to the surface. "You've just separated me from someone I've been with my whole entire life. I'm fine, better than ever, thanks."

"I didn't do that, Fred." He stated. "I don't support your mother's decision, but-"

"But you're too scared to confront her about it, because secretly you're disgusted too. You're just trying to be the good guy, because it wasn't your express decision." Fred cut me off. "Well, it's not working too well, is it?"

"Fred no, I-"

"You what? I don't see you trying get me out of here. I don't see you trying to get me George back." Tears were now spilling unmercifully. Arthur started talking again, but Fred had finally put the last plate in its place. He slammed the door to the cupboard and stormed upstairs, leaving his father standing dumbstruck in the middle of the kitchen.

"Well, that didn't go terribly well, did it?" He heard Sirius's voice come from behind him out of the large fireplace.

"Uh, not exactly."

"Just let the boy go! You can't keep him there under his will. I know you, you don't want to."

"Well, I don't. But Molly…"

"Well, who cares about Molly! Be your own man, Arthur!" Sirius said, the flames licking over his nose.

"I don't want to get her angry…" Arthur trailed off.

"You need to stop being such a pushover. I was just flooing to tell you that I will be coming to take Fred off your hands tonight, whether you want me to or not. I thought I would be a gentlemen and give you some warning. But, I for one hate seeing your boy so upset, George doesn't know I know, but he's cried himself to sleep every night since he's been here."

"Fred too…Wait, George is there?"

"I'm sorry, I seem to have disclosed too much information." Sirius grinned. "And I believe I hear Remus returning, so I will have to let you go. I will see you later. Happy Holidays!"

The fire made a terrible wooshing sound and Sirius was gone. For the second time that night, Arthur Weasley stood agape in his own kitchen.

---

Fred was pacing his room. It needed to get darker faster. He couldn't leave if it was still light out. He knew his mother placed charms on all the exits of the house, and knew it was going to hurt like hell when he tried to leave, but anything was better than being held captive in this shithole any longer. He was once again wearing George's hat and fiddled with the tassels as he walked. The sun was slowly descending behind the line of horizon, off to shed its light on somewhere else in the world. It was getting close to being dark enough to make his escape, now all he had to do was wait until he knew both of his parents were in bed.

In about an hour, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs and saw the light in the hall click off from the crack under his door. He pulled on his cloak and shouldered his bag, waiting for fifteen more minutes before finally exiting his room. He carefully walked down the hallway, thankful this wasn't the first time he'd snuck around after dark and therefore knew what sections of floor were too squeaky to step on. After successfully making it down the entire flight of stairs, without falling once, he slung the other strap of the bag over his other shoulder and took a deep breath, both hands on the doorknob.

He threw it open and was barely out on the porch when it slammed behind him, his hand still clutching on the inside doorknob. His arm wrenched into an impossible angle, and he heard a bone pop. He grimaced and yelled kicking at the door. It opened a fraction and he pulled his arm out, only to have it close in his face once more. He was breathing hard and cradling his arm to his chest. It was bleeding and he was almost sure it was broken. That was definitely going to put a damper on his journey.

But, he still wasn't in the clear. As he walked down the front steps, he stopped short as the air itself seemed to surge with an electrical current. He closed his involuntarily teary eyes and braced himself, preparing to continue.

Fred had never been struck by lightening, but this is what he imagined it would feel like. Every single inch of his body stung, it felt like his skin was being burnt off. His hair was standing on end, and he couldn't see straight anymore. His vision was too blurred by pain and tears. And still, on he went. He couldn't quit now. He was almost to the end, there couldn't be anything after this, could there? Fred couldn't imagine even Crucio hurting this badly. He breathed in shakily, his lungs wouldn't fill. He couldn't breath. He was going to suffocate in this fortress of white hot pain, and he was never going to see George again, never get to kiss him one last time, never get to say goodbye. He held onto this thought and pushed himself through the rest of the charm his mother had put on the perimeter of the house.

In a sudden moment, all the pain lost its intensity. The ghost of it was still there, leaving him aching and unable to rise from his knees, but there was no new pain to accompany the old pain. He had made it. He was free. He just needed to find the strength to get up and get away from here before they could catch him and lock him back in again. He forced himself to rise. He walked two steps before crashing to the ground again, coughing and crying. He felt so weak, so vulnerable. He hated himself right now more than he ever had.

"Fred?" someone called to him. No, no. They'd found him. After all he did, he'd be forced back inside and the charms would be strengthened and he'd never ever be able to get out. He sobbed dryly. "Hey, hey, Fred. Are you alright?"

Fred tried to open his eyes to get a look at who was talking to him, it didn't sound like another Weasley. His vision was still blurred, but he could pick out an outline of a face. Pale, eyes sunken slightly, a mop of tangled curly dark hair falling around his cheekbones. "Sir..Sirius?"

"Yes, Fred, it's me." And Fred launched himself forward childishly and clung to Sirius with his good arm.

"It's okay now, whatever just happened, it's over. I'm taking you home with me." Sirius declared.

"You'll take me to George?"

"Yes, of course." Sirius said as he scooped Fred up into his arms.

" 'kay." Fred said quietly, Sirius could tell he was barely clinging to consciousness. He shook his head angrily and looked back toward the front door of the Weasley's house. He saw two people, Molly looking smug and Arthur standing there, his eyes wide.

"Look what she's done to your son, Arthur!" Sirius called. "Don't be a pushover anymore!" He leaned closer to Fred and whispered they were going to Apparate, so hang on. Fred nodded and Sirius took one last disgusted glance at the house before turning on his heel and disappearing with a distinct pop.

Well! I really hope you enjoyed that, please tell me if you did, or didn't for that matter. That took me FOREVERRR to write, so I hope it's satisfactory. And you know what the ending means?!?! A definite Fred and George reunion in the next chapter! :D