It was difficult for Harry to squeeze himself into the One-Eyed Witch passageway. It seemed to have shrunk around him in the past two years or so. That, or Harry just hadn't realized that he was still growing, despite being 18 now. Nevertheless, he made his way through to Hogsmeade and idly waved to the vaguely familiar witches and wizards he passed on the street as he made his way to the shop.

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had made its way from Diagon Alley to here, mainly to be closer to most of the Weasley clan. Harry suspected it also had something to do with the feeling of comfort any given witch or wizard had upon walking into Hogsmeade, this wonderfully unspoiled village where they could behave as they liked without the worry of Muggles' prying eyes.

Harry grinned when he saw George on the sales floor, helping a customer, possibly a child's parent, with a heaping armful of Muggle magic tricks. Truly, George was in his element here, giving a potential patron some advice with a smile on his face. Harry really admired the way George made eye contact with whoever he met. Those people were lucky. You didn't see eyes like that every day.

Harry tried to shake off the confusing feeling in his stomach as he waited for George to sell the woman her selections. As soon as she was out the door with her purchases, he lazily flicked his wand, and the sign on the door flipped from Open to Closed.

"Lunch break," George explained. "How was the exam?"

"Fine. You know Flitwick goes easy on seventh years. Something about NEWTs and having done our time." Harry picked up a miniature telescope, keeping it far from his face—if he remembered correctly, those toys packed quite a punch.

"Food first?" George suggested.

"Sure." Harry found himself willing to go along with anything George suggested right now, telling himself it was just nice to see a different friendly face. A very handsome, can't-look-away kind of friendly face. Harry dismissed that particular train of thought as they headed to the Three Broomsticks.

After shoveling several forkfuls of steak and kidney pie into his mouth, Harry asked something he'd been wondering since that morning. "When'd you know? When you were gay, I mean."

George nibbled on a bite of fish. Harry deftly ignored the older boy's—man's?—mouth as he said, "Dunno when exactly. Probably when I was 11, actually. Fred would talk about pretty girls, and all I could think about was how nice Wood looked in his Quidditch uniform. Oh, and Cedric. Don't get me started on Diggory."

"Cedric was really handsome," Harry agreed, blushing immediately.

"I knew it!" George said triumphantly. "I knew you had some gay in you! Bet you didn't even enjoy snogging my sister."

"Well, do you want me to be honest?" asked Harry.

"Of course."

"We didn't actually snog all that much. And when we did, she seemed bored, and it just wasn't that great."

"So there's more than a little gay in you," George surmised.

"I don't know about that," said Harry, still blushing a bit.

"Hey, don't be embarrassed," George said, putting a hand over Harry's. Harry's fingers felt as though they'd caught fire, another feeling he unsuccessfully tried to reject. "Gay, straight, whatever, it's fine. You should never be ashamed of what you are."

"That was really cheesy, George."

"I know. But I meant it."

Harry smiled. Soon, they finished their meals and went back to the shop. The stairs hidden at the back led to a flat that Fred and George used to share. Now, it seemed a lot less cramped with a lone twin as its sole tenant. The room off the main landing was surprisingly clean, though George's bedroom was another story.

"Go ahead and sit down," George said when they entered the room. Harry looked around. The only place to sit was the bed. Harry, after a moment's hesitation, lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. George sat down next to him.

"So ... What do you have?" Harry asked.

George paused before saying, "In the interest of full disclosure, nothing. I can't think of any charm or potion or other magical means of clearing your head of all that rubbish. But I thought we could try something else." And before Harry knew what was happening, George was kissing him, and he was kissing this boy, this man, this old friend of his back.

Kissing George was different from kissing Ginny. George's mouth was a bit rougher, his face a bit stubbly. Mostly, though, there was a marked difference in style. Whereas Ginny's kisses were fleeting and oddly passionless, this was aggressive; Harry could nearly feel the emotion dripping from George's lips onto his. Harry parted his lips slightly and George continued changing techniques, from nibbling to licking to now, a full on snog.

Eventually, the kissing came to a close—too soon, Harry thought, feeling dizzy.

"Did that help?" George asked softly.

"Yeah, I think it did." Harry looked at George and brushed some of that shockingly bright red hair out of his face before saying, "Since when did you—"

"Always, Harry." George laughed, just as softly as he'd spoken. "Since you showed up at the platform in your first year."

"But I was scrawny, and clumsy, and I didn't know what to do with myself."

"Exactly. It was so cute." George smiled and slid his arms around Harry. "You're still cute, you know. But there is a difference here. Now, you're sexy, too."

Harry laughed, a bit embarrassed but grateful for the compliment. "I could say the same for you."

"Did you think so before just now, though?" George asked seriously.

Harry thought for a moment, then said, "I really don't know. I've always liked you a lot, maybe more than most other people, but I hadn't really noticed until today, you've got the nicest eyes."

George fluttered his eyelashes at Harry. "We're very glad you think so." They both laughed before he continued, "And it's OK, you know, if it's the first time you've really felt anything. Just so long as you really do."

Harry nodded. "One thing, though. I may want to back off a bit on too much snogging. It's just, I don't want us to get carried away. I feel like ... well, we already know each other, but I want to know more about you. Like, really know more about you before this turns into..." He trailed off.

"A relationship?" George suggested, sounding a bit hopeful.

"Yeah. That. I just think..." Harry kissed him on the forehead, and the cheek, and the nose, and the chin, then ever so lightly on the lips. "It can be more like that for a while. I think it would be smart, at least."

"Sure. Whatever makes you most comfortable."

"You do." Harry blushed after saying so, but it was true—he hadn't felt quite this good in, well, ever. In a rare move, George went slightly pink, then kissed Harry on the cheek.

"One more question," said Harry.

"Yeah?"

"Why now? Why not before, or later, or never?"

"Because, Boy Who Lived," George said, tucking some of Harry's hair behind his ears and kissing the side of his head, "maybe for once, you should let someone else save you."