Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, etc. etc. etc….

ooooo

"Potter, Weasley, a word," Snape sneered as everyone began to make their way out of the classroom. Hermione gave them a look that said 'good luck' before heading out with the rest of the class.

Snape stared contemptuously at the four boys standing before him. "Just you, Weasley," he said, pointing at Fred. Ron and George left the room, the former speeding out the door, Hermione in tow, wile the latter waited just outside it. Snape began to riffle through a pile of homework that sat on his desk and pulled out the piece of parchment that Harry had turned in only three hours before.

"Do you honestly expect me to grade this, Potter? I asked for a foot and you give me three inches." Harry said nothing. "And," Snape continued, "I'm sure a Blast-Ended Skrewt could manage better than this sprawling mess. Did your quill explode?"

Deftly, Snape produced his wand from a pocket of his robes and proceeded to touch the tip of it to a corner of the parchment. A black spot began to spread across the paper, and smoke rose freely till the sheet was engulfed in blue flame. In a matter of seconds it was gone, the only remains a few small feathers of ash that floated through the air. Harry was glad that his long, messy hair obscured his eyes, because he was sure that if Snape could see them, he would be in even deeper than he already was.

"And Mr. Weasley," Snape languidly drawled, turning his attention to Fred. "You decided to hand me," he flipped unnecessarily through the stack of papers, "nothing." Any other teacher would have expected an excuse at this point, but Fred knew that is was best to just let Snape continue. "You will both serve detention Wednesday, my office, seven o'clock." The boys nodded wile giving a 'yes professor.' "I expect this assignment next class." And with a smirk Snape added, "with an extra six inches on the origins of the curse. You may excuse yourselves." They were more than happy to oblige and promptly left the room.

Once out the door, Harry took Fred's hand and the three boys headed towards Gryffindor Tower.

As they walked along, the drizzle that had kept up all morning turned to huge drops that fell almost horizontally. Their assault on the castle walls echoed through the huge stone edifice, and George, trying not to concentrate on the hand that enveloped his brother's, let the noise take him away, back to the first time he'd heard such a storm resonate through the castle…

It was just like the storm that raged now; an early October downpour accompanied by huge bolts of lightning and loud, boisterous thunder.

They had been suffering through Double Potions when the rain had started. They quickly left the dungeon as the bell rang, happy to be rid of the most horrendous class Hogwarts made them endure-History of Magic came in close second-until next Tuesday.

"Snape's a right git," George complained as they climbed the multitude of staircases that led to the Entrance Hall. "Taking points from Lee just because he forgot his newt tail. For Merlin's sake, it's only our third potion!" Fred continued to nod as his brother ran on.

"It was such a small explosion, and I think that fuchsia becomes those Slytherins. I just wish it had hit that greasy haired…" George trailed off suddenly.

Fred looked at George and saw that he'd blanched and gone rigid. He quickly glanced around for Snape, thinking that the professor had heard what George had said and was now on the warpath for more points and a few nights detention, but the Serpent's Head of House was not mixed amongst the trickle of students-some still carrying a tinge of pink-that were making their way from the dungeons up to lunch.

His only speculation for the cause of George's fright proved wrong, Fred turned back to his brother.

"George," Fred called softly as he reached out his hand to rest it lightly on his sibling's shoulder.

George looked over, shook his head, and then smiled. "Let's go eat," he said simply, and then headed off up the last flight of stairs. Fred, a bit surprised by George's easy reply, took a moment until his brain told him that he should follow.

Fred entered the Great Hall and sat down next to George, who had already helped himself to the fried chicken and was now piling boiled potatoes onto his plate while asking Lee Jordan something about giant tarantulas.

The only way you'd think something was wrong with him is if you'd seen him five minutes ago, Fred thought. What was his problem anyway? A bolt of lightning streaked across the enchanted ceiling, and Fred watched as George's grip tightened on his fork. He finally relaxed his hand when the low roll of thunder that followed had ended.

Memories came back to him and Fred mentally hit himself for not realizing George's problem earlier. Fred looked over at George to find him chatting with as easy an air as he could manage, attempting to not let on that something was amiss. Fred, determined to help his brother, resolved to do the same.

The hour passed as the din that had filled the hall slowly began to fade as food settled and made drowsy the residents of the castle. Students and teachers began to slowly leave, and Fred and George, in the company of Lee, found themselves part of the lethargic crowd.

Mission accomplished, Fred thought as he watched Lee rattle on, oblivious to the fact that George's nods for his continuance of the story were halfhearted at best and that his concentration seemed to completely disappear every time a roll of thunder echoed through the castle.

Later, as the crimson velvet muffled the snoring of his fellow classmates, Fred lay in bed listening to the pounding rain, unable to fall asleep with the knowledge that George was too restless to either. Thunder rolled across the grounds and Fred heard the rustling movement of bed sheets for the umpteenth time that night. Figuring that this was no way for either of them to spend the night, Fred drew back the curtains of his four-poster and shuffled the few feet over to the next bed. He slipped his hand through the soft hangings and made a place for himself on the bed. George gave no protest, though he was surprised at the intrusion.

"Hey," Fred said as he settled in. He propped a pillow against the wall and leaned back so that he was sitting upright.

"Hi." George's voice was strained, complete exhaustion filling every syllable. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?"

"Sitting in my bed. But shouldn't you be asleep?"

"Shouldn't you?" Fred asked, slightly irate. George was silent. "Sorry. I knew you weren't sleeping, so I couldn't either."

"Why?"

"Because I know why you can't sleep."

George looked away, ashamed and rather embarrassed. "I'm pathetic, aren't I," he whispered. "Old as I am, and still afraid of a thunderstorm."

"No, you're not. Everyone has something that scares them."

"So what scares you?"

"Mum." They both let out a laugh, but quickly quieted themselves when they heard a hitch in Lee's snoring.

A few minutes passed between them, silent save for a long rumble of thunder.

"How did you know I wasn't sleeping?"

"Because I know you. We've shared the same room for eleven years."

"Yeah."

"You've never been able to sleep through a storm, and you've been tense since that first crack after Potions."

"I was hoping no one would notice."

"It was kind of hard not to notice you stopping dead on the landing." Again, George answered with silence. "At first I though that Snape had heard you going on about him and was after you." George gave a snort of suppressed laughter. "But I didn't see his greasy head anywhere, and when I turned to ask you, you skipped off to the Great Hall."

"Didn't feel like skipping."

Fred's half-serious glare was lost in the dark, but George knew it to be there from his brother's muteness.

"It didn't," he said indignantly. Fred remained taciturn. "I was definitely not skipping."

"George, can we forget the skipping?"

"Sorry." After a moment's pause, George continued.

"So I was obvious and everyone knows now?"

"I don't think so. The only reason I knew something was wrong and went looking for the answer was because of what happened after Potions. When you stopped, no one seemed to notice besides me, so I think you're safe there. And Lee was too wrapped up in his story to notice the number of times you almost snapped your fork in half, he can be so absentminded, and everyone else was busy with their own food and friends to be bothered by you."

"…I feel loved."

"'Cause I meant it that way," Fred replied sarcastically

"I guess you didn't," George apologized, finally snuggling down under the covers. After a moment he said, his voice sorrowful, "I was hoping that this wouldn't happen, you having to sit in my bed just so I can fall asleep."

"It's ok, I don't mind."

"Yeah, but you can't always be here when a storm sets in."

"Well then, we'll just have to wean you off me," Fred said, the grin on his face audible in his voice. George smiled back, wanting to hug his brother for being there for him yet again, but thinking that they were too old for that, didn't. Instead he hugged his head to the pillow and closed his eyes, letting his weariness finally take over his mind.

When next the thunder sounded, it seemed distant, but if this was from the storm moving away from him or his mind drifting away from the storm, George could not tell, and he didn't care to think about it as swirling shapes began to form and engulf his increasingly unconscious mind. He felt Fred settle down next to him and they both drifted off with ease…

George found himself again staring at the intertwined hands that hung before him, his memory having left him and with it it's alleviation from his previous thoughts and hurt.

Back then, during their first year, before it, and even after, Fred had been all that George had and he was all Fred had. Now, Fred had Harry and he had no one. Being back for an eighth year meant that the friends they had grown up with were gone, leaving nowhere for George to turn to. Of course, he was still close with Fred, and Harry, Hermione, and Ron-well, at the moment, not Ron- were friends he could talk to; but not about this. None of them could know of his feelings toward Harry.

George tossed his bag onto his bed before sitting down on the red sheets. He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, cradling his chin in his hands. The room was still but for the pounding of the rain on the tower walls and Fred rummaging through his trunk for something. The silence did not go unnoticed, and as soon as he found what he was looking for, Fred turned around and looked at his brother.

"You coming to lunch?"

"Yeah."

Fred gave George a scrutinizing look. "Something wrong?" His question gleaned no response and Fred let his eyes wander to the waterfall that streamed down the window. "It's not the storm, is it," he asked, his gaze snapping back to George.

"No," came the immediate reply. "Mmmm, yeah, maybe…" George trailed off. "I'm just tired is all." He gave Fred a meek smile. "I'm fine. Go on with Harry, I'll be down in a few."

Fred's trepidation about George's assertions was plain on his face, but he nodded and left the room. As soon as he met with Harry on the stairs, he was convinced that George was truly fine and resolved to save him a seat at the Gryffindor table.

The moment Fred closed the door behind him, George's head slumped, his face sliding down into his hands until they engulfed the entirety of it. He sat there, heart heavy, eyes wet, and let his thoughts envelope him in a torrent more intense than the one that raged outside.

ooooo

I'd like to say thanks to everyone who's reviewed, and who just read this after waiting for so long. I'm very sorry. It's been very hectic (my mommy died ). But things seem to be as back to normal as they'll get, and school's ending, so I'll be able to get up a new chapter soon. And I say thanks to Hobbit for beta-ing for me and all her encouragement!