A/N: Sigh. I don't even know.

It's odd, alright.

Written for CadensAngelus' A New Pairing Challenge and Dark'n'Devilish's Kiss In The/ At The/ On The Competition! I got RemusGeorge in the former and kiss on a mountaintop in the latter. Fun times, eh?

For those of you who don't know, Ben Nevis is the highest mountain in Britain. Or something. I used Google, okay? It's fanfiction, just go with it.

Also, set while the trio are off hunting in DH.

AND ONE MORE THING: I meant to say something in my last update, but I've a head like a sieve. I just want to thank you all for reading/reviewing! Because this is the 21st chapter and that's the highest I've ever gone chapter-wise and people still actually give a shit. So that's nice. Seriously though, thank you :hugs:

(God, I'm terrible with A/Ns. They're always so long and rambly. You guys love me anyway though, right? ...guys?)

Pairing: Remus Lupin/George Weasely

Prompt: 49. Free

There is a boy, who has a twin, and who sometimes forgets what it is to have secrets. His name is George.

There is a man, who has a secret, and who sometimes forgets what it is to be loved. His name is Remus.

Something amazing happens.

And it happens the way most amazing things do: quickly, unexpectedly, and already doomed.

It starts with the sky.

The boy says, "I need some air, mate, I'll be back in a sec," and bids the identical face across from him goodbye. He goes outside and he stands in the garden and he looks at the sky and he counts the stars. And with each number, George feels smaller and smaller and smaller. He matters less and less and less. He breathes deeper and deeper and deeper.

And he smiles.

It is this night when the man comes along, standing beside him under the keyhole pinpricks of white and blue. The stars shine together, in clusters and swarms, and the world seems a little less lonely.

"Why are you here?" George asks and Remus just nods towards the sky.

The moon shines cockily, its luminous shadow dancing across George's face. It is very almost full, but not quite.

"Oh," George says, and Remus nods again. Oh, indeed.

And nothing more passes between them that night, too lost are they in the thoughts that the sky is never-ending and they...well, they are not.

It ends with the ground.

George owls him in the dead of night, when thoughts of war and battles creep into his bedroom and dance before his eyes.

Romulus, he writes, have you ever been to Ben Nevis?

He signs is with a lone G and a kiss.

And that's all Remus needs.

He is there in forty seconds, still in his soft, cotton pyjamas, with the creases of his pillow pressed into his face.

George is already there and he stands straight and proud, with his back to Remus, and watches the world sleep around him. They are up so very high, and Remus feels the cold creep under his skin. The sky is dim, the stars dulling. Remus looks out into the distance.

"Why here?" he asks.

"I can see the stars and the sea from here," George replies, but he does not turn around. "I'm the sea, Remus. I'm the sea."

"You're the sea?"

"And you're the moon."

"How clever."

"I thought you'd like it," George says, and the sound of his ready laughter lilts his words, consonants blurring with the whoosh of the winds, vowels an echo through the trees.

Remus watches George from the back and wonders if anyone knows that he's not quite as much like Fred as he lets on. His silhouette is strong and silent, and he is so much more pensive, so much more sensible, so much more Georgewhen he is alone.

"Why do you pretend?" Remus asks, and he doesn't even need to explain because George always seems to understand.

"I don't pretend," he says, turning slowly and meeting Remus' eyes. "People just...notice him. And I wear his face, so they expect me to be just like him. But I'm happy, Remus. So it's okay."

"Then why are you here?" Remus asks, walking towards George without ever breaking eye contact. George's eyes are blue as the sea he claims to be, and Remus feels as if he could shine like the moon from that look alone.

"Being up this high is like- like freedom," George says, and holds out his hand. "Don't you ever just need to breathe?"

Remus takes George's hand in his and smiles.

"I suppose I do."

George smiles in return. "Then breathe, Remus. Now's your chance."

"Better idea," Remus murmurs, and kisses him.

And he quashes down the feelings of this is wrong because he's been through that before and it does nothing, not at all, and Sirius he thinks, but this is George, and this is not wrong.

Because love... Love is never wrong.

Right?

How can it be wrong if it makes Remus want to scream that there's this boy, this boy who depends on him like the sea depends on the moon, like Remus doesn't, like Remus depends on the other thirty days in each month where he is whole and sane and maybe even happy?

See, there's this boy who says that he loves Remus whether it's wrong or not, and Remus knows that boy has never been one to live by the rules anyway.

So Remus breathes deeply, sighs sadly, and smiles.

"George," he says, "You know this can never last?"

To his surprise, George nods.

"Let's not talk about that right now," he says quietly, reverently. "Let's just watch the moon."

"Okay," Remus says, content with the fact that the end is expected and that George's fingers are warm in his hand.

They share their body heat in the cold night, warming themselves with simple charms, and watching the sky lighten over the sea in the distance. Up this high, Remus feels like he can see the whole world. He feels like he is flying, like he is soaring.

But the ground crunches beneath his feet as he stands to leave, and the sadness of landing on solid ground when he Apparates home is second only to the pain of not knowing when he'll see George again, or whether things will be the same.

He supposes they won't.

(And he's right.

Because, see, there's this girl...

But Tonks makes him happy and George is just a boy anyway. He needs to remember that.)

George holds baby Teddy close and smiles.

He is so like his mother, but he's got his father's eyes. He watches as those big eyes blink slowly, lingering shut for a fraction of a second longer each time, until they do not open at all.

"Goodnight, Teddy," George croaks, but what he means is goodnight, Remus and I miss you, Fred and who am I?

Because George is so, so broken.

Teddy snuffles in his sleep and George soothes him gently, rocking him back and forth.

"Need any help?" he hears from behind, and, when he turns, he finds Angelina there with an almost-smile on her lips and understanding in her voice and he nods.

Because he does need help. So much help.

There is a man, who once had a twin, and who sometimes forgets what it means to be loved.

There was a man, who had a secret, and who died with his heart in two.

Something amazing happened once, long ago.

And it happened as most amazing things do: briefly, quietly and so very, very doomed.