A/N: Firstly thank you to all my reviewers! You guys ROCK. Secondly, I apologize. I really do. I never meant to hold this chapter hostage. That was a joke. I've actually been really busy, it's was insane. I knew you guys were waiting but I never seemed to have time to work on the chapter. So here is the long awaited Chapter 7. Enjoy!
George's POV:
The sunlight streaming through the window woke me long before I wanted it too. Groaning I pull myself off the floor from the spot I'd been sleeping in. I stretch to get the kinks out of my back that have managed to work their way during the night. I rub a hand over my face and head downstairs. Streamers hang limply from the rafters and cups and other odd ends are scattered haphazardly around the floor. I dig around for my wand to cast a few cleaning spells. When I finish up I find a chair to sit in and mull over my current situation. Closing my eyes I think back to the previous evening.
. . . he's only inches from my face before he presses his lips to mine. When he starts kissing me I groan and kiss him back. I feel him press into me and lick across my lips. Gasping I let him in. Tongues swirl together in a slick, hot battle. Hips collide together with force before everything shatters to pieces.
I groan and cradle my head in my hands.
"Aw, shit," I mutter.
How am I supposed to even look at Fred? I don't even know if he remembers what happened last night. Glancing up from my hands I look over the clock to see it's almost 9am. Deciding I need tea and maybe some food before I can mull this over anymore I trudge up the stairs. Luckily the kitchen was one of the first things I had built in our flat upstairs. I set a kettle to boil while I warm a pan for some fried eggs. It's one of the few things I can cook. It's not long before I'm bringing a cup of piping tea and a plate of eggs over to the small table in the corner of the room. Realizing I've forgotten to make toast, I summon a couple slices of bread off the counter and toast them with a quick spell. I'm half-way through my meal before I can even think of Fred again. Sighing, I push the plate away and try to figure out what to do. I consider every idea I come up thoroughly with until I decide I'm just going to ignore it. I'm just going to pretend like nothing's happened. Fred can't get mad at me for something I don't even know that's happened, right? I recite my plan in my head again a few more times before groaning and dropping my head onto the table. I'm doomed.
Fred's POV:
I groan and stretch from my spot on the floor. Blinking away the fog and sleep from my eyes I focus on my surroundings. I glare at the twin beds and messy floor. I sigh with relief when I realize George isn't with me. George.
. . .he's only inches from my face before I press my lips to his. When I start kissing him he groans and kisses me back. I press into him and lick across his lips. Gasping he lets me in. Tongues swirl together in a slick, hot battle. Hips collide together with force before everything shatters to pieces.
I grumble as I extract myself from the floor. I decide I need a good strong cuppa before I can think about George again. Sneaking downstairs I realize no one is up yet. I sigh in relief. Someone out there must like me because the Weasley household is never this quiet. After making my tea I sit down and try to mull over my problem. Sighing, I try to figure out what to do. I consider everything I can think of until I decide I'm just going to ignore it. It's cowardly, I know. Even more so because I seem to have started the kiss. But I'm just going to pretend like nothing's happened. George can't get mad at me for something I don't even know that's happened, right? I recite my plan in my head again a few more times before groaning and dropping my head onto the table. I'm doomed.
George's POV:
Landing outside the burrow with a pop I head inside to face the music. The kitchen is eerily quiet as I saunter through it to find someone who's awake. A shock of red flashes in the corner of my vision. I turn to find my brother sneaking up the stairs.
"Fred!" I shout-whisper. He cringes and turns around. I give him a puzzled look.
"You ok?" I ask, taking in his haggard appearance. "I know we had a lot to drink but-" he cuts me off with the wave of a hand.
" 'M fine," he yawns. "Just still a bit hung-over," he smiles blearily. I mentally sigh in relief.
"In that case lemme grab you a hang over potion. Mum should have some in the cabinet," I mutter as I wander over to the nearest cupboard.
"Nah. I'm good. I already had some this morning. Just not. . .tip-top yet," he explains striding over to where I'm standing. He yawns and stretches causing his shirt to slide up, reveling his tone stomach and a fine trail of red hair winding into his pajama bottoms. My face flushes and I turn around before he can notice.
"So what are we up to today George?" he asks, clapping me on the shoulder. Trying not to let him see my face, I mutter something about finishing stuff for the shop.
"Right!" he says brightly. "You have more blueprints right?"
"Yeah, uh, they're in our room. You want me to go grab them?" I ask, begging for an escape from his presence.
"Yeah, sure, go ahead," he nods and I flee gratefully. Reaching our room I close the door and flop onto my bed. I groan and scrub my hands over my face and into my hair. What am I going to do? I can't run away from my brother because I'm afraid of getting hard around him! How am I supposed to sleep in the same room as him? I moan pitifully and dig around for the plans. I have a sudden stroke of genius and double my efforts to find the plans. I cry out in triumph when I locate them under a dirty pair of shorts. As I read of the plans I smile widely. My plan will work just fine.
Fred's POV:
Somehow the rest of the day manages to pass without major disaster. I mean, the incident with Ron's eyebrows relocating themselves to his backside is really only a minor disaster. We'll figure out how to make the dancing eyebrow candy work eventually. But I doubt Ron will help us test that candy anymore. I watched George pour over his blueprints for most of the morning. He spent hours muttering to himself before finally rushing off about an hour ago 'to take care of some business'. I sigh in relief when he finally leaves. I can't stop thinking about the noises he made last night. Spending every moment with him is going to be torture from now on. What am I going to do? I rest my head on the table just as the sound of George's return reaches my ears.
"Hey, Fred!" he calls eagerly.
"Hey, George. Business all taken care?" I ask, trying to smile convincingly.
"Yup. Actually I want to show you something," he says excitedly. "Mind popping over to the shop quickly?" he asks, practically vibrating with happiness.
"I suppose not-" is all I manage to say before he grabs my hand to side-along apparate me.
George's POV:
We land with a thump in the lower half of the shop.
"Merlin's beard! I could've done that myself," Fred shouts, looking slightly shaken. I pat him on the back.
"Sorry, Fred. Just excited," I say. "Come on upstairs! I wanna show you what I've done," I call, as I bound up the stairs. I hear him following slowly from behind. When I he reaches me in the kitchen he looks around.
"Kitchen looks the same," he says, looking bored. I sigh and push him towards the bedroom.
"I know. I'm talking about the rest of the flat," I tell him while I lead him into one of the newly decorated rooms.
"Wow, George. This is really nice," he smiles while looking around the newly furnished bedroom. Dark red carpet stretches across the floor, lit up softly by the fire place that's on the far wall. Accents of red and brown run through-out the theme of the room. A few plants sit in the corner winding up the window sill. Bookshelves line the wall to our left with a door in the corner nearest us. A plush looking double bed rest comfortably against the right hand wall filled with pillows and a comforter with matching hues of red and brown. Fred turns to me with a puzzled and slightly nervous look on his face.
"One bed?" he asks, gesturing at the bed likes it's offended him somehow. I nod.
"Follow me," I say and continue through the nearest door. When he enters he gasps. It's a replica of the bedroom we've just left only done in soft blues and greens.
"There's two bedrooms?" he asks, still sounding puzzled.
"Yeah. I thought we should get our own rooms since we have our own place. Like it?" I ask, rocking on my feet happily. Fred looks around the room again and I watch his expression darken briefly before confusion worms it's way onto his features again.
"But. . .we've always shared a room," he says, looking utterly perplexed and some-what sad.
Uh oh? Reviews please!