Secret Order Meetings

by fresh.new.lily

George is working with Kingsley to develop tools and weapons for the war with Voldermort when he develops something else entirely. He didnt even know he was gay until he knew he loved Kingsley. Follow the story of their love as it grows while a war rages.

6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Well if you think that it belongs to me the rock you are living under must be fairly large.

A/N: Here is the latest chapter in the George and Kingsley love story. The two men get to know each other better. I hope that you enjoy!

*fresh new lily*

Kingsley was scowling angrily as he threw the paper down on his dinette table, accidentally knocking his tea cup off its saucer spilling lukewarm tea across the table's surface and dripping onto the travertine tiled floor. The Wednesday edition of the Quibbler was an unfortunate blow to morale. It would seem that after the disappearance of his daughter Xenophillius Lovegood had had decided to betray all of his beliefs, wrackspurts, nargles, and Harry Potter. It made sense, the Death Eaters were sure to use his daughter as leverage to gain his paper as another tool for their propaganda campaign. The Order had in all actuality seen it coming, but it didn't take away from the blow. The Quibbler had been one of the few sources of information and hope for those in the side of the light. The editor, who at one point had been seen as just a barmy old fool with a nutter of a daughter - both who believed in impossible creatures and tales, had been using his paper as a beacon of hope, spurring Harry and his compatriots on in their secretive quest, and giving hope to those who needed it that their savior had not given up on them and that there were still those who believed in equality and love and not the oppressive tyranny that was quickly sweeping their world.

Now the front page of the Quibbler showed a very different version of Harry. A defeated looking fifteen year old boy, whose face belied the pain he felt at the loss of his Godfather, was staring back from the newsprint, looking side to side slowly taking in the commotion that had surrounded him. The words 'Undesirable No. 1" were emblazoned across his chest. Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley had the unfortunate distinction of being Undesirables No. 2 and 3, their faces taking up the lower half of the opened front page. The inside was no better. Kingsley wished sadly for an article about moon-sprite mating rituals.

The month of January was drawing to a close and the weather had been bitter cold, slushy, and depressing in London when he had left the Ministry the night before, but his country cottage out on the outskirts of Kendal was his little secret escape. Very few people knew he lived there. Remus and Tonks were among the few. He had grown quite close and protective of the Metamorphmagus as her training partner for the Auror Corps. Remus had been an old school mate and the two had easily founded a friendship with the re-instatement of the Order. Tonks had begged Kingsley to be a good partner and friend and help her to seduce the older werewolf. Kingsley had instead warned Remus to run as far as he could from the crazy witch, telling him that she was far too headstrong and pushy even if she was unwaveringly loyal and kind. He told Remus that he couldn't see what the two had in common, the age difference was staggering and while she had gotten enough NEWTS to make it into the Auror program she wasn't particularly gifted in anything but defense. She had a tendency to show her age too often in a fit of anger and could be annoyingly immature and unrealistic. In the end he had done a piss poor job of warning his friend away from his partner, she had managed to pull him in anyways. But Kingsley had to admit that they fit in an odd way. She brightened what Kingsley knew to be a rather dim life for his friend, and he toned her down and brought out a more serious and adult side to her that Kingsley had been personally grateful Remus had uncovered. It was, now that he thought about it, not so dissimilar to his budding relationship with George, the age gap was more extreme of course, and George was certainly less experienced than Tonks had been when it came to relationships; Kingsley would love greatly to forget walking into the loo at work to find her starkers with a Ministry worker he was happy to never learn the identity of, there was no mistaking the bubblegum pink spikes unfortunately. There were other similarities, both Tonks and George were deceivingly jovial, always smiling and laughing, yet he knew that both were dead serious when they needed to be and could be counted on in a fight.

Now looking out at the snowy meadow and the snow covered rooftops in the town in the distance he wished he could bring George there. He loved his home; his job with the Muggle Prime minister had afforded him a peaceful escape from magical London, though he still kept a flat in town which served to keep his true address a secret. He had spent years rebuilding the cottage after he had purchased it from an aging muggle couple. The home was warm and inviting, balancing warm earth tones with vibrant jewel tones and dark rich woods. His garden was his pride and joy, though it was hard to tell in the winter just how much work he put into it every year, tending his roses and African tulips that he had imported on his last trip to his ancestral home, now occupied by a distant cousin since the passing of his parents when he was just a boy.

He wanted to be able to share his peaceful retreat with George, a man he was steadily growing to love more and more deeply. He missed his young lover, not having seen him for weeks, and knowing that many more would pass before they could be reunited. George had sent him one letter since they had last been together. It was comforting to read and re-read the messy scribble that went on for nearly three feet of parchment. An additional foot of parchment had been included that was strictly Order business, appraising him on his most recent news from the D.A. within Hogwarts – nothing much had changed on their front, though they were becoming more bold in their defiance and it was likely to get someone hurt – and letting him know that as of yet no suitable solution had been found for multi-channel communication. The other three feet of parchment, the ones meant solely for Kingsley's eyes were filled with George's private thoughts.

George had written predictably of his affections for Kingsley, and of how he missed him and the sense of peace his presence brought to his life. It was however his heartfelt confessions about his worry for his sister, who he was certain had faced further torment within the walls of Hogwarts, that had Kingsley wishing he had been able to visit his ginger-haired lover. He knew that promises of an Easter extraction for his sister were of little comfort to George who had always been terribly protective of the young woman.

Kingsley had written back, his eloquent words promising that if they made it out of the war alive he would make his absence up to George. He told him of his tiresome days working within the new regime set up at the Ministry, and how it sickened him to be forced to participate in the interrogations of Muggle-borns and Muggle sympathizers. He told George that the highlight of things had been when the toad-faced Umbridge had attempted to unite her line with Yaxley's, suggesting that her equally toad-faced niece, Brumhilda who was sure to be resplendent in gaudy pink robes with an overabundance of tacky bows, would be a wonderful 'lady companion' and good breeding-stock. He let George know that he had shared a nice good laugh with Arthur about that one. It wasn't enough though. he wished for the freedom to speak openly with George on a variety of subjects, to get to him as well as two lovers, not lost in the middle of a gods forsaken war, should be free to do.

As Kingsley was sending a well-placed 'evenesco' at the mess made by his tea he heard a sharp tapping at the kitchen window. He knew that only owls could make it past his wards without at the very least triggering one of his alarms; however he was still always wary of unexpected post. He slowly opened the window to let the barn owl in and retrieve her burden and offered her a small bite of toast. The owl took off immediately, so he knew that whoever the letter was from they hadn't expected him to reply.

He was preparing to scan the neatly folded parchment that created a wax sealed envelope when he noticed the design in the wax was that of a lynx cuddled around a small fox, his and George's Patronus'. Kingsley smiled warmly, and forgetting all about the scans he had planned to run slid his pen knife under the wax seal and opened his latest letter from George. He was surprised when instead of a sheet of parchment, as he had expected, two small leather bound books fell from the envelope and resized themselves to be normal sized journals. One was a lovely jewel toned blue, Kingsley's favorite color and held the likeness of a lynx, much like the one that was on the wax seal. The other notebook was bound in a deep, rich red with an embossed fox grinning slyly at him, the magical image playfully batting his tail. Kingsley opened the blue book to find it empty of words. He checked the other notebook but it too was blank. No matter what revealing spell he tried it was not successful. Examining the two books as well as he could he finally found something. George had left him a clue. In very small lettering on the back of the red notebook were the words 'For all the secrets I behold and promises I keep, for all my dreams to grow old with my love that runs deep, for a place in my heart beginning right now, I would be truly amiss if I did not vow to seal my promises with a kiss' George had written him poetry.

It was terribly sweet, even if it wasn't the best poem known to man. He knew however that a deeper meaning than promises of love was to be found within the words. Kingsley read it out loud to himself over and over again; finally shortening it to what he believed was the most pertinent information. The words 'For all the secrets I behold' could very well pertain to the little book, and 'seal…with a kiss' could it be that easy? Kingsley thought to himself.

Deciding to test his theory he turned the little book over and placed a light kiss to the grinning fox. The fox appeared to like the gesture and did a backflip before settling into a fixed state, not something Kingsley was sure foxes did naturally, but this was George. Slowly he opened to book and was happy to see George's messy scrawl covering the page.

29 January 1998

My Kingsley Bear,

Do you like thenickname? I have decided that while your Patronus may be a very fitting lynx, to me you are a bear. You are my protector, ferocious in the face of danger and like a lovey bear when I am sad and in need of comforting. I like it, so I plan on using it!

To business then. I see that you have managed tounlock the secret of the notebook. Well, hopefully it was you, or a very complex little charm just went to waste, and well, I would have to say that the cats out of the bag…So assuming it is indeed you, and you kissed the little fox then you now know how to access your letters. As I mentioned before I haven't managed multi-channel communication but I was able to use the protean charm to mirror the Journals, I just had to make two sets. In the red will be my letters to you, they will stay, and be concealed and revealed with your kisses, and your kisses alone (the charmed image each have built in memory wards and will only respond to the one who first kissed the images, in this case you) it should serve to keep our correspondences private, though I understand if you would rather remove the parchment and destroy in case it is somehow lost or stolen. Regardless of your decision on that front the journals will never run out of pages, just as my heart shall never run out of love for you. Am I being cheesy enough yet Bear? Well, as I said, the little fellas on each journal are charmed to respond to your kiss, when my fox is waving his tail at you it means that there is a new letter from me. All you have to do is kiss him and the words will appear for you, kiss it again and they shall be hidden until your lips once again grace the cover. To reply you simply write in the blue book, and kiss the lynx to send the words to me. The lynx on my book will prowl and I will know you have written. I hope you like it. It has taken me weeks to get these to work, but I it was worth it. You and I can now test their efficiency while I work on getting the multi-channel communications to work, if I can make it so that we each have notebooks that are all linked, without the need for a separate notebook to carry for each person you communicate with, it could be useful. I'm working on it.

Now, on to more personal matters. I miss you terribly. Fred thinks you must have slipped me a potion because I can't seem to do much of anything without wanting to share it with you, and I don't sleep half as well as those few blissful nights I was in your arms. Fred, you see, is my other half, quite literally really. His strengths tend to show where I am most weak and our hearts and minds are forever linked, beating and thinking as one. It is funny when that is often how true love is described, and yet I find it to be so utterly different. You see, where I know what is on my brother's mind, and I can feel his anxiety palpitating through the thin walls, I feel my very soul reaching out to yours. I know, somehow Kingsley, it will always be you. It seems so silly to be making suck proclamations when we are just at the beginning of this, but it is a truth that beats so deeply in my soul I cannot deny it. And, well I am a Gryff after all and what are we best at if not running in head first, with everything we have. I don't know if you believe in destiny or fate, then again if Harry gets a destiny why can't I right? It's just, that I can't help but feel like it was always going to be you. You seemed to see the truth of me that no one else could. You helped me to see the truth as well. I never understood why I wasn't happy to have the same thing that everyone else seemed to want. My charm and devilishly good looks won me the heart of a beautiful girl, and yet when I had it I had no clue what I should do with it. Everything was lacking and grey before you. Okay, so now I know that Angelina was obviously lacking certain parts I have come to find quite necessary to my sexual enjoyment, but it is the meeting of the souls that I know is something I share uniquely with you. I feel sorry for every other sod out there who won't know that feeling. Are we destined to be? I hope so because if not I have been waxing rather ineloquently now for the last fifteen minutes trying to convince you of a falsehood. I like to believe that our love was fated, that there is more than just the in's and out of everyday life and this blasted war. I have faith Kingsley that we will make it through, because what cruel fates would give me my one destined true love only to rip it from me? I hate to think the fate would be such cold wenches, don't you?

Now, whatever you do, don't tell Fred I said all that. He would never let me live it down. As it is he still teases memercilessly about finding you in my bed. He always thought he was the only other bloke I'd share a bed with, so I think he's jealous. And, I just admitted something terribly embarrassing didn't I? Well, there's no taking it back now. George Weasley, Gryffindor member of The Order of the Phoenix, on occasion still shares a bed with his twin brother when one of them can't sleep. It's one of our deepest secrets and I am entrusting it to you.

I worry about him. This war has literally separated us for the first time in our lives. He has his assignments, and I have mine. He is however openly spitting in the face of everything Sir Mouldywarts stands for. He is out there every week making a target of himself. I suppose it makes a target of me as well, seeing as mum can't even tell us apart all the time. You always could, how do you that by the way? Well, as I was saying, he is out there defying Sir Dirtyshorts and twice now their location has been raided by the snatchers. Last time Fred god hit with a nasty burning hex and we were lucky that our chosen occupation means we carry loads of burn paste. What if it had been worse Kingsley? I don't know what I would do without Fred. He was always the braver of the two of us. He always was the first to rush into things, I was always fast at his heels, but that was more to make sure that he was safe than my own personal wish to put myself in danger. Not very Gryffindor of me.

I worry most about Ginny and Ron right now. Ron may be an annoying little git most of the time, but I know that he is out there risking his neck, and we have no way to know if any of them are alive, or if he ever found Harry andHermione when he went back. I still can't believe the git abandoned them out there. At least he finally saw sense and went back. But I have no idea what they are even doing. No one does, other than running. I swear mum almost lost it that day the three of them went to the Ministry for whatever hair brained scheme they had. I hope it was worth it. But Gin, little Ginny is fighting the snakes in the castle every day, and they have stopped telling me of her punishments, but I know that she is still having them. I don't understand what the Great Bat was thinking when he gave them detention with Hagrid however. I still cannot believe that the three of them tried to steal the sword. That seems like so long ago now. March, and Easter break, seem so far away when every day I know she is at risk for unthinkable pain. I thought that the worst she would have to endure was Harry leaving her heartbroken. How naive I was. There is so much at risk in this war Kingsley. It at times feels impossible to think that we can win when we are losing all our battles. I need hope again Kings. We all do.

I miss you. I love you.

Always yours,

George.

Kingsley closed the journal and pressed a lingering soft kiss to the fox still wagging his tail playfully at him. As soon as his lips left the warm leather the fox stood still, awaiting George's next letter when he would get to play again. Kingsley was lost to his thoughts. George had filled two pages with his thoughts, rambling on at times, but honest and heart felt. He was so trusting with Kingsley when it came to his heart that Kingsley felt unworthy. George was brilliant, that much was certain. The notebooks were beautiful and clever. This letter was so different from the ones he had sent him before. Usually there was at least a foot of writing that sent Kingsley's pulse racing and caused his hardened member to strain painfully against his pants. This letter had been devoid of sexual innuendos and dirty pictures. Kingsley knew it was because George was so scared. Everyone was. War was waging all around them, even if battles were few.

Eager to test out his new journals Kingsley grabbed his blue bound one and set to write George back.

29 January 1998

My Dear George,

Words will not begin to express how brilliant I think you to be. These journals are such a wonderful gift, much is you love. You ask me of fate and destiny, and truths I do not know. I know this, my love for you is stronger than anything I have felt before, and I am certain that none will ever again compare. Was it fate that sent my parents into town when I was a boy of nine, to be killed from behind when a poor beggar saw my mother's jewels? For if they had not died then I would not have gone to live in England with mother's sister, and would not have attended Hogwarts. I would not be in the Order. I would not know you. I do not know the answer to that question, and if I did it would beg more questions still, but I know that I am grateful to have you in my life. For me that is enough. It is more than I ever expected.

You ask me George, how I can always tell you from Fred, and the answer to that is much easier for me to find. I can see it in your eyes, a glitter in them that seems just for me. There is a spark about you that I noticed long before it was right for me to look. One day it was as if I saw you. I saw George, not one of the infamous Weasley twins, but you. I saw the depth of your soul and it called to mine. For two years I watched as you grew into the man I knew you had it in you to become.I watched as your body developed into a long, lean, beautifully sculptural, freckled work of art that begged to be touched, and yet I knew I could not. More than once old Mad-Eye caught me watching you for longer than I should have and called me on it. I used to worry that he would tell your parents. What would they think of their friend if they knew where my eye strayed too often to be considered proper? I wonder that still.

What will we do George, when the war is over? I have never broadcast my relationships to the world. There was never any need; none meant anything to me in the end. I thought as a boy, younger than you are now, that I was perhaps in love, but there was always something holding me back, and in the end we parted ways. Since then there has been no truly meaningful relationships in my life. None until you. Now I cannot see myself with anyone else. You fit so perfectly against my side at night when we sleep that it is as if you were made to go there. Your body is perfection in my eyes, but it is your mind and your heart that have me so terribly captivated.

Unlike anyone I have known you make me laugh and smile and hope. It is foolish to hope for this to end in our favor George? All I know now is that I wish for nothing more than for you to make it through this whole. The world will need you in it. You were right George; it is in times such as these that we find ourselves fighting against the darkness when we need laughter the most. We also need love, and you have given me both. So that brings me back to my question George. What do you want when all is said and done? I know that now we cannot risk anyone knowing, it was foolish to think we could have ever kept it from Fred of course, but for now no one else can know. Why then is it, when I have never bothered to publicize my relationships in the past, that I find it so painful to keep you a secret? You deserve so much more George. You carry too much on your shoulders for one so young. I wish I could hold you at night protect you from your fears and hold you closely where I know that you are safe. Someday George I want to bring you to my home, and keep you here with me, to share all that I have built with you. For now this house seems so cold and empty without love to fill its walls. My bed seems so cold now that I have shared yours.

Whether it be destiny or fate or just damned good luck that brought you to me George, there is nothing in this life I am more grateful for.

Talk to Fred. Tell him your concerns; I am certain he can feel your anxiety just as well as you can feel his. Tell Ginny to hold out and prepare. I can't be seen on the train. Against everyone's wishes, her husband's most especially, Tonks has volunteered for the job. She is to take Ginny and apparate all over the place to cover her tracks. She will then bring her here. I will keep her safe overnight and bring her to you. Do not tell her the details George, if the information got out…Just trust that Tonks and I will keep her safe, as we all trust you and Fred will do as well.

Do not be embarrassed about sharing a bed with Fred. I think it is wonderful that you are so close with him. We all have out secrets and our comforts in this life. I have my roses and my tulips. In the spring I spend days tending to my garden, pouring all of my frustrations into my work and let it fly away with the pollen. I take clippings to an old woman in town here who I met many years ago while at the market when I first bought my home. She said I reminded her of her grandson, though she is whiter than you are. We have tea and biscuits and I read to her because she can no longer see the words on the pages of her favorite books and has no one left to read them to her. She is so sweet and kind and made me feel welcome here when first I moved here.It is for her that joined the Order. Why would anyone think that she is unworthy because she does not possess magic. She possesses love, and that is the best any of us can hope for. So now you know one of my secrets as well love.

Be safe love. I hope to hear from you soon. I will try to sneak away in a fortnight or so, I miss you.

Do not doubt my love for you is as real as the stars are bright.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Kingsley Bear

Kingsley shut the journal and kissed the lynx on its cover, wishing he could kiss his young lovers lips. Instantly the small lynx began to pace across the front of the journal. His letter sent. Kingsley smiled at George's brilliance again before getting up, taking both journals with him to tuck into the drawer beside his bed. Before he tucked them away he pulled out the letters he had received from George before, and the one very sexy image that kept him warm at night, and slipped them into the pages of the red journal.

In a tiny attic flat in London George danced with joy as the lynx on his journal began to pace.

A/N: Well, what did you think? Things will really start to pick up from here on out as the war gets more intense, and their relationship continues to grow. Reviews are as always appreciated! Thanks for reading. Till next time.

*lily*