Disclaimer: I don't own Harry or Fred or George, though I sure feel the liberty to manipulate their lives as I feel that JK could have made it a bit more interesting.

OOOOO

Fred went downstairs an hour later, George trailing behind him. They were both in a good mood of understanding and Fred felt especially well as George had promised to come with him to shop for a present for Harry. They were going to Apparate over to Scrivenshaft's in Hogsmede after dinner.

When they got to the bottom of the landing, they could smell their mother's cooking and immediately their stomachs let out a low rumble. They made their way to the kitchen and plopped down into chairs opposite each other.

"Well, good morning boys! It's nice to see you up so early! It's only 6:30, your father won't even be home for another hour."

"Hi Mum," they replied in unison.

"So I'm guessing breakfast won't be ready for a while then?" Fred asked.

"I'm afraid you're right," Mrs. Weasley replied. Fred's stomach gave a disapproving grumble. "But I can hear that you won't be able to hold off that long. Here, have some biscuits." Mrs. Weasley set a plate of warm fresh biscuits in the middle of the scrubbed wooden table, always ready for the hunger pains of her teenage boys with something warm.

"Thanks, Mum," George said before reaching for the plate.

"Eah, pahnks," Fred managed through a mouthful of biscuit.

At 7:29, the Weasley's grandfather clock moved it's 'Arthur' hand from work to travel to home, and a minute later, the man himself walked through the kitchen door. "Morning boys," he said rather cheerily for being out all night. "Pleasure to see you up so early!" He walked over to his wife and gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Morning Dad," they said, stopping the conversation they were having over who was going to de-gnome the lawn today.

"Well, we're rather cheery today Arthur," Molly said, a rather large smile on her face.

"Yes we are, and for good reason. We had a rather productive night, Molly. Eight more leads in the Renclyff case."

"Boys," Molly cut in over her husband. "Go and wake everyone else up," she said, levitating food over onto the table.

The boys got up, wanting to hear more of what their father had to say, but knowing that there was arguing with their mother once she'd told you to do something. There were only a few people who had any power over Molly Weasley, and even then it wasn't much.

At the top of the stairs, they split, Fred going to wake Ginny and George to Ron and Harry. George walked through the door quietly and walked over to his little brother's bed. Ron had the covers pulled up over his head and could be heard snoring loudly through the orange material. George shook his head and turned around to face Harry.

The boy was lying there on his side; the white sheet grasped in his hand and pulled up to his chin. He was breathing softly, and George could see on his face that he was having a peaceful dream. George bent over Harry, his eyes remaining on the peaceful smile that was spread across his lips. They looked like such soft lips, not at all dried out by the night's sleep. Soft, and probably warm…almost inviting… George's thoughts trailed off for a moment until a loud hitch in Ron's snoring snapped him back to reality. He shook his head slightly. Harry's lips, what an… interesting…. thought.

George proceeded to wake both Harry and his brother up, the former with little difficulty compared to the latter. Within half an hour, everyone was downstairs and tucking into a breakfast of toast, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, and waffles. Mrs. Weasley seemed to have decided that the Renclyff case wasn't too serious of a case, as that was the main topic of discussion. Everyone listened intently as Mr. Weasley told of the suspected Death Eater and his supposed whereabouts.

An hour and forty minutes later, everyone save Molly and her husband had vacated the kitchen. Ginny had returned upstairs to work on homework, after much protest from the boys, as they were to outside and de-gnome the garden.

It was hard work, as always, but they all had fun whipping the little buggers into the hills behind the house, and around noon the boys returned to the house sweaty and thirsty. Mrs. Weasley was ready for them, and ushered them back out the door and onto the cool grass under the shade of the enormous willow, handing over a tray of cool spiced pumpkin juice and cookies before heading back to the house to continue her never-ending cleaning.

They sat, relaxed and enjoying the cold juice, the glasses gathering condensation fast. There was little conversation until Harry said, "I like pumpkin juice, but nothing's really better than lemonade in summer."

The Weasley boys were puzzled by this comment, having no idea what lemonade was. "Lemonade? What's that, Harry?" Ron asked.

"You mean to tell me that there's no lemonade in the Wizarding World?! How can there be pumpkin juice but no lemonade?"

"Nope, never heard of lemonade before, Mate," George replied. "You could always enlighten us as to what this fabulous Muggle drink is."

They all turned their attention to Harry as he began to explain that it was a drink made with lemons, as they had all quite figured out by themselves. As Fred's ears listened, his eyes began to take in Harry. He sat there, no longer leaning against the tree and seated next to Ron. He had set his drink down as he was explaining things with his hands like he usually did, and Fred found the lively expression in his eyes and waving hands cute. To be so animated over explaining a simple drink…. It was simply Harry, and Fred found himself simply adored by it.

Fred's gaze drifted down, and adoration turned to something lustier in nature. Harry was as sweaty as the rest of them, the dark wetness reaching from his neckline almost to his navel. His shirt was white, causing the damp cloth to be practically see-through, and it clung to his tight chest and upper abs.

Fred gave a little gulp and moved his gaze back up, away from Harry's chest. But this offered him no comfort as he noticed Harry's dripping hair and glistening visage. Fred watched as a bead of sweat rolled down off a tendril of clinging hair and onto Harry's face, then traveled the length of his cheek until it reached the tip of his small squared chin, where it clung for a moment before falling to the ground.

Fred gave an even harder gulp and tried to concentrate on what it was that Harry was saying, instead of on Harry himself. It was almost impossible, but he managed when he saw George staring at him, a wry smirk fixed upon his lips. Fred's cheeks flushed and he wrinkled up his face in snide dislike as a small child would.

The rest of the day passed by quickly enough, the boys each in turn taking a shower to wash the sweat from their bodies, then going off to play two-on-three Quidditch matches with Ginny.

After dinner, everyone split up again; Mrs. And Mr. Weasley and Ginny to the living room, Ron and Harry outside to do Astronomy homework, and Fred and George to their room. Before they headed up the stairs, they bewitched the clock so that their hands would remain on the word 'Home.'

Soon they were standing outside the lit windows of Scrivenshaft's, and they immediately entered the bright little shop. It had been a hot day, but now that the sun had gone down, there was a nippy breeze blowing.

The shop filled with all quills, inks, and magical erasers and reveallers imaginable. Fred moved to the self-inking section and began to look at all the different colors and feather styles, trying to decipher which Harry would like best. George wandered the store as his brother searched, wondering if he should get something himself. He'd always wanted a Quick-Quotes-Quill for easy, hands-free formula recording.

After looking at them and deciding that a Quick-Quotes was out of his budget range right now, George ambled over to his brother to see how he was coming along. Fred had in front of him two quills, and he was scrutinizing them with a thoughtful eye. One was a long straight feather, the core purple and the edges silver. The other was a bit fluffier, and it was alternating colors of azure and black.

"So," George said coming up behind his brother, startling him so that he have a little start. "Which one is it? I rather prefer the purple myself."

"Hmmm, yeah, I was thinking that one too." Fred put the blue quill back up on the shelf with the others of its kind. "K, let's go."

They walked up to the counter together and Scrivenshaft wrung up the price. "One Galleon, please."

"A Galleon?" George asked, a little taken aback by the amount.

"Yes," Fred replied as he handed over the gold coin. "Is there something wrong with me spending a Galleon of my own money?" Fred took the red cardboard box Scrivenshaft handed over.

"No," George said as they left the store. "It's just a bit more than we've ever spent on a gift before. But I know this is different, and it's a beautiful quill. I'm sure Harry will love it."

Fred looked over at his reassuring brother and gave him a smile in thanks. They stood a moment, and then disappeared into the air.

ooooo

The six days passed by quickly, too quickly in Fred's opinion. The day of Harry's birthday arrived and they all celebrated with an extra large dinner and a double-layer cake with green frosting to match Harry's eyes. Harry had pulled 16 little colored candles out of his pocket and had stuck them into the top cake, lit them, then proceeded to blow them out, much to everyone's confusion and amusement.

He'd received a sweater from Mrs. Weasley, "for when it gets colder," she explained; broom-handle wax from Ron, a book from Hermione that had arrived by owl; some sort of card from Ginny that had made him laugh, and fireworks from Fred and George, which he set off outside to everyone's delight.

At midnight, they all headed upstairs, said goodnight in the hallway, and went to their own rooms. Once George had closed the door, Fred fished the red box out of the top drawer of his dresser. He turned around, nervous as hell and trying to hide it.

"You'll be fine," George said, giving him a slight pat on the back. "I just saw him go into the bathroom. Why don't you go wait for him to come out?"

Fred nodded but didn't move, and George gave him a little shove toward the door. Fred gave one look back at his brother, who gave a little nod, and he walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

He stood leaning against the wall, waiting for Harry to come out into the hallway. After five minutes, Fred heard the doorknob turn and his heart skipped a beat. He watched as Harry walked out and closed the door behind himself, not noticing that Fred was standing there. He began to walk down the hallway, and stopped when he looked up and noticed Fred. They were three feet away from each other, and Fred saw that Harry was wearing his tank and shorts pajamas, his clothing from the day tucked under his right arm.

"Hey Fred. Bathroom's free now, so go ahead. G'night," Harry said and he began to move past him.

"N-no. Wait, Harry," Fred said before he could get any farther away. Harry turned to face Fred. "I wanted to, um, give you a, um, present. A birthday present." Fred held out the red box to Harry, who looked at it a bit quizzically.

"But you already gave me something, Fred. I really wasn't expecting anything else."

"I wanted to, um, give you something on my own, without George's name on it too. You know, just from me." Fred was gaining confidence and his stuttering began to let up a little.

"Oh," Harry said. He took the box from Fred's outstretched hand. "Thanks." Harry began to open it, first undoing the little red ribbon Fred had tied around the box, then lifting the lid to sift through the thin tissue paper inside.

A small intake of breath escaped Harry as he pulled out the quill, causing Fred's heart to speed up and chase away to confidence he had earned only a minute before. Harry twirled the quill between his fingers, his eyes alight.

"It's beautiful, Fred. You really didn't have to." He lifted his up and met with Fred's, causing him to blush pink.

"I wanted to. I noticed the other day when you were doing your homework that you were on your last quill and that it was kind of old and torn and I thought you could use a new one. It's self-inking. I hope you like the color. I…"

Fred would have continued to babble on but he noticed that Harry was closer then before, and he closed his mouth in surprise.

"I really like it, Fred. I can't believe you noticed that I needed a new quill. And the colors are really handsome."

Fred's heart skipped another beat and he was sure that his heart would stop altogether soon.

"But you want to know what else is handsome? Harry asked, looking directly into Fred's eyes.

"…"

"You are when you're nervous." Harry closed the gap between them, lightly pressing his lips to Fred's. They were soft and warm and rather inviting, and Fred leaned in a little, not one to waste such a pleasant invitation. Harry lingered for a moment, then pulled back. He smiled at Fred. "Thank you again for the present," he whispered, and then he turned around and walked softly to Ron's room and went inside, giving Fred one last look before closing the door.

Fred stood there, a bit shell-shocked, until realization swept over him. Harry had liked the present! Hell, forget the present, Harry had kissed him! Fred hadn't imagined that anything like this would have happened, and here it had!

He turned and almost ran into the door. Shaking his head, he opened it and went inside to one of the most sleepless nights of his life.

OOOOO

There you go, chapter 2. And please don't expect me to update as often as this, it's just that I'm on a roll here and I can't stop, because I know that if I do, it'll take me a week or so to update. I try to every couple of days, update that is. I really hoped you like this and that you continue reading! Please review! It's not hard, I swear!