Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is awesome - I don't own anything.

Author's Note: I'm a bit drunk, but I have so much I want to say – namely, thank you to everyone who has read and followed this whilst it's been on hiatus. You are my inspiration!

Chapter 6

Fred jumped out of his chair when he heard the faint tapping on the window, nearly knocking it over in his haste. He sighed heavily though, when he glimpsed the owl carrying a small blue box, and looking somewhat bedraggled by rain.

"Still ignoring us then?"

Fred didn't answer his twin and silently let the owl in. She dropped the package at his feet before giving him a malevolent glare and flying to her perch in the corner. The owl was glossy and speckled – a great barred owl they'd purchased with part of the money initially leant to them by Harry. She hooted softly as she shuffled from side to side and settled into slumber. Fred felt a small twinge of guilt. It had been two weeks since Hermione had ordered him and George out of her flat. They'd left her alone for the first week, but had then started sending letters and chocolates (with notes swearing they hadn't been tampered with) and other apology gifts every day. All had been returned, unopened, and their shared owl probably deserved a good rest.

Fred frowned to himself. Shared, that was the problematic word. He and George had always shared, and shared nearly everything. One of his earliest memories was of his mum exasperatedly explaining to them that they would have to share their toys, though, he reflected now, there hadn't been many toys to share between all the Weasley children. He hadn't realised how poor their family was until they'd gone to school and other students, usually other pureblood students, had pointed it out to them. Toys, books, clothes, ideas, dreams – they shared so much that other people often treated them as if they were one person. Even their parents did occasionally, but they often did that collectively to all their children, which was different. They were very similar people, but still different, and separate, though far closer, he knew, than many twin pairs. The Patils had been far more individualised, whereas he and George had always instinctively cultivated symmetry in their actions and speech. Now they did it more deliberately, as part of their business personas, sometimes practicing interactions in advance. Improvised banter worked most of the time, but it never hurt to be prepared

He looked over at his twin, sprawled apathetically on one of the sofas. They'd had more words after leaving Hermione's and several sulks, but no more violence. The rest of the family had noticed the tension between them at Sunday lunch, but had all kept silent on the matter, knowing from experience that there was little they could do to help. Ginny had kept sending pointed glares his way, suggesting that she only knew that Hermione was unhappy rather than any specific reasons why. She'd decided not to say anything though, which was a relief. One of the benefits to his baby sister growing up was that she was learning not to try and fight every battle on behalf of everyone. Fred sighed again – he wasn't angry with George anymore. His twin had apologised profusely, and had also told him about Hermione's scar and near-panic when he'd taken her wand. That had given them both pause for thought. Neither of them had known about the scar, but Ron must have, and probably Harry, which meant that Ginny likely knew as well. Clearly, it was a sore point, and Fred could see that George was genuinely distressed about having triggered unwelcome memories, and doubly distressed that Hermione wasn't reading his letters of apology. Neither of them had been particularly productive of late.

Well, there was only one thing for it.

Flopping heavily into the other sofa, Fred looked directly at his brother. "George, we need to talk."

George's face took on a resigned cast. "I know. I'm so sorry, I-"

Fred waved a hand has he cut him off. "I know you're sorry and I'm ready to drop it." George's melancholy expression became ever so slightly hopeful. "We don't need to talk about that anymore. I meant we need to talk about what to do next and how to fix this." He took a deep breath and looked at the floor, finding it uncomfortable to keep looking at George as he said the next bit. "I acknowledge that you... have feelings for Hermione." He swallowed before continuing. "Whatever happens next, I don't want to lose her friendship, and I don't want to be causing you hurt. Maybe," he faltered momentarily, trying to say the right thing, "maybe we can't share this. Or, maybe we have to share not pursuing our interest. At this stage," he stopped, correcting himself, "at any stage, I wouldn't want being with her, or anyone, to be the reason for your unhappiness." His stare was boring a hole in the floor, but he could see George nod slowly in his peripheral vision.

"I agree. And I'm sorry I'm not making things easy for you. I do like her, Fred. For your sake, I wish that I didn't, or that I hadn't done what I did." They sat in silence awhile, both lost in thought. Finally, George spoke again. "We need to apologize properly, both of us for the Revel-O-Parchment-"

"Still a rubbish name," murmered Fred.

"-and I need to apologize for my deception." Fred looked up again. He could see the tension in his brother's shoulders, every line in his body spoke loudly that he was trying desperately to put things right. "I'd like to be friends again too. Maybe we can't be anything more," it was clear that we meant George and Fred rather than George and Hermione, "but we can hopefully mend our friendship."

"She is very forgiving," observed Fred. "She is still friends with Harry and Ronniekins, after all these years." George laughed softly, and Fred was glad to see him relax slightly. Something eased within his own chest as well. He knew that George hadn't just been speaking about repairing his friendship with Hermione. "What after that?" he asked.

"How do you mean?" The question was asked cautiously, and Fred could see the vulnerability in his twin's eyes, asking him not to be hurt again.

"Well, aside from her wishes, which I'm not prepared to make assumptions about, what do we want? What do you want, what do I want, and could we make it work?" He straightened, one hand straying unconsciously to pull on his collar. "Seeing her has been nice." He tried to hide his grin for George's sake. "If she was still interested, I would want to continue seeing her. Clearly, you're rather interested too." George's ears flamed, but he kept silent. "I don't think we can fix this if we're not honest about what we want, and what we'll struggle to live with." They were both quiet again. Fred waited, knowing from the distant look in his eyes that George was thinking. When his twin finally did speak, it was in the same careful manner that Fred had.

"It felt awful, the month you two were seeing each other. Mostly because I felt guilty-"

"-that you felt resentful?"

"Yes." George looked at him thoughtfully. "What do you think bothered you most: that I kissed Hermione, that she enjoyed it, or that I was disloyal?"

Fred grimaced, fighting down the instinctive feeling of betrayal and rage that rose in his gut. "All of it, but I think it was feeling betrayed. That you had, that she might have. It hurt to know that she enjoyed it."

"And what if we were kissing, without betrayal? Or, something that makes sense?"

Fred's eyes widened. "Are you suggesting that we should offer ourselves-"

"-as a package deal?" George smirked.

Silence prevailed for a long time. "Could we even do that? I mean, I know we look alike, but I don't know-"

"if I'd want to see your ugly mug starkers," finished George.

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