He hasn't ever pin-pointed what exactly that something is.
He thought it was the angst, the fear.
Tonight is like every other night. Them lying together. It's become the new norm.
Most of the times, they talk, about their family, their friends, Hogwarts, the Ministry, their past...
Third year at Hogwarts.
They have discovered another secret pathway, another amazing phenomenon of magic.
The Mirror of Erised.
"It's actually 'desire' written backwards," Fred murmurs to him. They must be quiet; it's the dead of the night, and Mrs. Norris's ominous little 'mew' was heard right outside the room not a few seconds ago.
George looks uncertain. "Uh, I don't see anything particularly 'desirable'."
Unless I consider a normal reflection on a normal mirror desirable.
The dreams they shared.
"Oh, and a room just for exploding wands!" George says, suddenly remembering it.
Fred agrees. "Yep. And a room full of dungbombs."
George sticks his head with Fred's and jots down something on the parchment between them.
And a flat above the shop.
We'll be the only ones living in it.
No pets except for a single delivery owl.
Their future.
Seems uncertain.
And that's when...
Fred slowly trails a finger along George's jaw.
"Mh, Fred." George murmurs, half asleep. "Stop it. Sleep."
Fred smiles softly. "Say the magic word." He keeps trailing it gently, down his neck.
George half smiles, half frowns. "Ugh, you're tickling me.."
"Say 'please, Fred'."
"Stop being a twat." George opens his eyes and frowns at him.
Fred leans in to leave soft kisses along his cheek.
"Fred."
Fred stops, pulls George a little more close, and whispers where his lips rest against his cheek. "What?"
"Stop it."
Fred draws back to look at him.
His cheeks are flushed, his eyes puffy, but their mood is like the frost.
Fred feels their chill reach into him.
Extreme chill. It sets his muscles on fire.
Hypothermia.
He retracts himself away from George as though burned.
George tries to hold his hand, only to balance out the frost. It was real; the discomfort, the aversion. Fred had felt it to his bones.
"Just sleep. N' lemme sleep, okay."
Fred pulls his hand away the moment George's fingers slacken.
He had read it all wrong.
He has finally figured out what the something is.
It's actually a monster.
George is gentle, mellow, warm, pliant
But there's a limit to how far he could be bent.