A/N: Early update :) Just because you guys have been so great with reviews, I decided to post this chapter up early. It's kind of different to the previous chapters, I think. I just sat down and it kind of wrote itself, so I'm not sure how well it flows with the rest of the story, but hopefully it fits and everything. As always, a MASSIVE thank you to everyone who reviewed: runeaglerun, snitch-bewitch, MaddyGervais, midnightstar19, Dimcairien, Carkey, chocolateMnMs and ncis-lady. You guys are so great, I cannot thank you enough for your support. I hope you all enjoy this!

Chapter 6

For the next few weeks, everything was almost back to normal. As their visits to the Burrow grew less frequent, Fred and George established a normal routine which only required them to leave their flat or the shop when necessary, and even then it was usually Fred. George still had the potions in his possession, however whenever he apparated he would still experience an overwhelming sense of dizziness, and as a result Fred was the one who was in charge of travelling outside via magical means except on special occasions, such as when they went to Kings Cross Station to see Ginny off.

One night however, George woke up for no apparent reason. Disgruntled at the interruption of his sleep, he turned onto his other side and was in the process of closing his eyes when he realised that Fred's breathing across the room was irregular and fast. Opening one eye blearily, George sat up, yawning.

"Fred?" He asked quietly, his heart rate increasing slightly, his other eye opening. There was no answer, but Fred tossed almost violently under his covers. George scrambled out of his bed and crossed the room to Fred's bed, more than a little concerned.

"Fred," he repeated, this time louder. Fred's breath hitched, and from where George was standing he could see that Fred's knuckles were white as he gripped his blanket tightly. Alarmed, George sat down on the edge of Fred's bed and shook his shoulders.

"Fred, wake up!" He said loudly. With a sudden gasp, Fred shot up, eyed wide.

"No!" He yelled, breathing heavily.

"Fred, it's okay, it was just a dream!" George exclaimed quickly, his hands still gripping Fred's shoulder tightly. Fred turned to him, almost unconsciously reaching out to grab George's arms.

"George?" He asked, voice sounding incredibly young and vulnerable.

"Yeah, it's me Freddie," George said gently, lifting one hand to stroke Fred's hair soothingly, as their mother used to do when they were younger. With a slight sob, Fred wrapped his arms around George, burying his head into the crook of George's neck.

"Oh God," he mumbled, and George could feel a distinct wetness against his neck. He wrapped his own arms around Fred, rubbing Fred's back comfortingly as Fred cried into his neck. George didn't press for any information, knowing that when Fred wanted to talk, he would. Instead, he offered his support in the best way the twins knew how, by shutting up, sitting still and offering a comforting shoulder. George almost unconsciously began rocking Fred back and forth as a mother would do to calm her crying child, and for some bizarre reason it seemed to work; Fred's sobs died down, his tears ceasing.

"That must have been some dream," George commented lightly as Fred eventually pulled away. Neither twin had woken up crying from a dream since they were eight. Fred sat back, scrubbing his face with his hands in a vain attempt to hide the tear tracks.

"You- you have no idea," he said weakly. George sat patiently, crossing his legs. After a few moments, Fred seemed ready to share.

"I was… well I don't know where I had been, but I was coming back to the shop," he began, and George felt a shiver run down his spine. "It was raining, thundering, and I was nearly there when I- I looked up and I saw… I saw the dark mark over the shop."

George winced, now having a vague idea of where Fred's dream was going.

"So I ran inside the shop and it… it was a complete mess. I mean, everything was on the floor, the windows were shattered, the shelves were broken; all our work was completely ruined. But I couldn't find you anywhere. I ran upstairs to our flat, and it was completely trashed, but then I saw that the bedroom door was slightly ajar, and I walked over and opened the door and-" Fred's voice cut out for a second, his eyes closed as he recalled the painful image.

"And you were lying there. And there was blood everywhere, on you, on the floor… I ran forward and you looked at me and you tried to speak but all you could do was cough, and there was blood coming out of your mouth. There was so much damn blood!" Fred gripped his hair, pulling his knees up to his chest. When he next spoke, his voice was slightly muffled.

"I tried to help you, but suddenly someone grabbed me and started pulling me away, and I was yelling at them not to, trying to make them let me go, but they kept pulling me, taking me away from you," Fred finished, a lone tear trailing down his cheek as he looked up. George sat silently for a moment, still trying to process everything Fred had just told him. A second later, he leant over and wiped away the tear with his thumb.

"Hey," he said gently, trying to make Fred look him in the eyes. "Fred, it was just a dream."

"Yeah but George, it could happen! Every time I leave you alone, I'm almost too scared to come back because that could be what I find!" Fred burst out.

"Fred, we have wards in place-" George tried but Fred interrupted.

"Death eaters can get through those wards and you know it George," he said firmly. George sighed.

"Fred, you can't keep worrying about things like this. You're beginning to sound worse than mum, you know," he said. Fred looked shocked.

"Take that back!" He demanded, but George refused, shaking his head.

"Nope. It's true."

"I suppose I am over reacting a little?" Fred asked quietly after a moment's hesitation. George nodded solemnly.

"But that's okay," George replied just as quietly. A silence fell over the two before George got up and walked to the other side of Fred's bed.

"Budge up," he said, and Fred scooted over as George settled himself under the sheets.

"You don't have to-" Fred began.

"I know." George said simply before letting his head hit the pillow. Fred did the same with a small smile, covering them both with the blankets.

"G'nite George," he said quietly.

"It'll look better in the morning, Fred," George said comfortingly. Fred murmured in a vague acknowledgement of this, but nevertheless his hand instinctually moved to grip George's wrist, directly over the spot where his pulse was. George didn't complain, instead letting his eyes close and the sound of Fred's breathing lull him to sleep.

By the next morning, Fred appeared to have recovered from his dream. He was back to his normal mood in any case, and George felt a sense of relief. However as the days passed, he realised Fred was anything but normal.

Every few days Fred would have to leave the flat alone, whether it be to grab food, ingredients for their inventions or to visit the Burrow (although for these trips, George would usually accompany him). However George soon noticed that the time taken for these individual trips had begun to decrease. What used to be a half hour shopping trip would now take less than ten minutes.

Furthermore, whenever Fred returned he would be breathing heavily, as though he had been rushing, and it was only once he laid eyes on George that his heart rate slowed down, his eyes shining in relief, although he never said anything about it.

George was not used to this quieter, solemn, constantly worried Fred. For as long as he could remember, Fred had been the careless one who would jump into a situation before looking, and deal with the consequences later. Not that George was much better. But now, Fred was cautious to the point of being paranoid, always stressed, and always tense. In other words, Fred was not acting like Fred anymore, and George could feel the concern building inside of him.

Even Fred's sleep was interrupted by constant nightmares. Every night, George would hear him sit up in bed with a gasp, his breathing shallow. In the beginning George would hear Fred turn onto his other side and try to go back to sleep, however judging by the growing bags under his eyes, this was unsuccessful.

After one week, during which the nightmares grew more consistent and evidently worse, Fred would often creep out of his own bed and sit on the edge of George's, staring at him, trying to reassure himself that whatever happened in his nightmares wasn't real. George, who would always be awake by this time, would pull back the covers and shuffle over, making room for Fred. And every morning, George would find Fred nestled into his side, his hand always curled around George's wrist right above his pulse point.

George didn't really mind the interruptions to his sleep. He would often wake up anyway when his ear was uncomfortable. What did worry him was that Fred's health was being affected by this constant worry. It wasn't healthy to be so concerned all the time and George knew Fred was suffering. Eventually, he decided that they needed to talk.

"Fred," he began one night as they were preparing to go to bed. Fred, who was brushing his teeth, looked up.

"This has to stop." George said firmly. Fred spat into the sink, rinsed out his mouth and turned to George.

"What has to stop?" He asked innocently, but they both knew that Fred knew exactly what George meant.

"This," George said, brandishing his arms. "Everything! The worrying, the rushing back home, the nightmares."

Fred shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, I'll sleep in my bed tonight," he mumbled, looking down at his feet. George shook his head.

"That's not the problem, Fred. The problem is that you are worrying way too much about me. Every time you go out without me, you're back in less than ten minutes! You barely socialise with anyone when you're alone, you just come straight back!"

"I can't help it!" Fred exclaimed sadly. "George, every time I leave, there's a chance that you won't be here when I get back. The longer I'm away, the higher that chance gets!"

"And Fred, every time you leave there's a chance that you won't come back," George reminded him. "But I don't think about that, and you shouldn't either, it's not healthy!"

"I can't help it," Fred repeated hopelessly. George sighed.

"I know. Which is why I decided that from now on, I'm going to come with you," he said determinedly. Fred's eyes widened.

"What? No, George, you can't. Your head-"

"My head, however bad the dizziness gets, is not going to kill me. Seeing you stressing out so much might!"

"George-"

"Fred, I've had a lot of time to think about this," George said seriously. "And I've made up my mind."

Fred looked at George for a few moments before reluctantly nodding his head, knowing that arguing would be futile. "Ok," he muttered quietly. George shot him a satisfied grin.

"Good. Now come on, it's getting late."

The two walked to their beds and sat down, facing each other across the room. There was a silence as they both considered what to say.

"Fred-" George began.

"George-" Fred said at the same time. They both laughed, effectively breaking the tension.

"George, are you sure you want to do this?" Fred asked seriously.

"Yes." George replied simply. Fred nodded silently. "Well, come on," George said randomly.

"Come on what?" Fred asked, confused.

"I'd like to get a proper night's sleep for once, and we both know that's not going to happen if you're sleeping in your own bed. So come on," George repeated, lifting up the covers. Fred scrambled off his bed and crossed the room to join George.

"You know, you should get a bigger bed," Fred commented as he squished into George's bed, accidentally elbowing George in the ribs.

"Or you could just stop having nightmares," George replied, squirming over to get comfortable, 'accidentally' kicking Fred in retaliation.

"Well yes, but where would be the fun in that?"

George whacked Fred's head lightly with a pillow.

A silence fell over the occupants, broken only by their steady breathing. George was on the verge of falling asleep when he felt Fred's hand gently rest on his wrist, over his pulse as always. He opened an eye and saw Fred was smiling slightly, eyes closed, looking peaceful for once. George closed his eye, feeling a smile grace his own lips as he fell asleep.

Next chapter: An attack at Diagon Alley leaves one twin in a bad condition and the other in a world of emotional turmoil.

Thanks very much for reading, and please review! :)