The younger and the older sit at a little desk in the sanctuary of their bedroom - their little, closed-off world - carotty heads stuck together, whispering to each other as they scribble something every now and then onto a parchment between them.
Its like they've travelled back in time- to the summer holidays. And they're glued together inseparably, holed up in their bedroom and etching their minds onto parchments.
At such times, George cannot believe that there is anything more to their relationship than meets the eye. That what they have between them is anything more than just innocuous love of soulmates who are together since the moment of their creation.
Fred proposes an idea, laughing quietly at its absurdity. George loses himself in the familiar mirth of his brown eyes.
The same that are capable of turning darker.
"George?"
He comes out of the trance. He nods, chuckles, and agrees with him.
"Right? Right?" Fred asks, laughing along, "We could put it up right in the middle of Gringotts!"
George smiles, looking into his eyes again. The proximity - the warmth, the scent, the feel of it all - only comforts him. He can't make out if he feels this comfort just because Fred is. That if this frame of mind is because he himself really is in it, or if it's yet another manifested magic of the bond.
Fred ducks down to scribble his messy scrawl onto the parchment. George is still smiling as he playfully bumps his hand against Fred's, making it difficult for him to write. Fred exclaims a 'Hey!' as he finishes somehow, then drops the quill to tackle George's hands. He pulls him close without a warning.
George waits.
With a sickening trepidation.
He only receives a press of lips to his forehead.
It's strange and sweet. It brings in old memories of stolen candies and sticky little fingers and a sloppy kiss to the forehead.
"Don't let anyone know that I kissed you, George, or I won't steal 'em for you anymore."
George feels a stab of pain.
He doesn't know why he does it. Why he gently pulls Fred back and kisses him in the mouth.
He doesn't want to fuel this fire that rages within his twin.
But he doesn't want Fred to run away from him once more, not now, and not because of a fire that took stronghold within him and set flame to that innocuous love.
Because it's love all the same, no matter how ablaze and extreme.
When they pull back, George shies away from meeting Fred's eyes; he knows they're too loving, too intense.
He isn't sure if he could handle it amidst the parchments and the half-burnt doormat that they'd tried to charm with jelly-legs jinx - things that remind him of the uncomplicated times. He isn't sure if he could handle the jarring paradox.
Easter arrives, and with it, Ginny.
She breaks down the moment their mother engulfs her in a hug. As she relays the horrifying state Hogwarts is in under Snape and the Carrows, they could only watch her whimper and jerk with sobs. Fred is the first to speak up and forbid her from going back to Hogwarts. They all second him. Ginny is to stay. There is no way they are sending her back to that hell hole.
As the days pass, her initial misery slowly, but surely, lessens, chased away by the warmth and love that family and home provide her.
This particular mild morning, they are seated around the table in their kitchen. Fred and George have the Daily Prophet spread between them. Their dad ambles in and takes a seat opposite them. Their mum places a heap of bacon on the table before taking a seat next to him. Ginny pulls loaves of bread toward her, then lightly bumps her leg against George's, gesturing at the marmalade. He quickly passes it to her before sticking his head back to Fred's and peering at the newspaper.
It's a typical morning; their mum and dad would be gone after breakfast to Lupin's place. Tonks is nearing her due date. She is quite alright, but their mum worries nevertheless. Thing is, they won't be taking her to St. Mungos for the birth. They'll be having it right at Lupin's place. Because St. Mungos, of course, isn't anymore the St. Mungos of the pre-Voldemort times. Not being seen is the whole purpose of them hiding.
"Hmm, look at this crazy new theory-" Fred says.
George reads aloud the article that Fred is tapping his finger at. "Harry Potter, who is actually the son of a deranged muggle diagnosed positive for venereal disease, and who had later been adopted by the Potters, has not one drop of magical blood in him, which makes him deserving of a title worse than 'mudblood'. All of the magical abilities that he possesses had been accidentally passed on to him through the Dark Lord the night the Dark Lord had taken certain steps that were of utmost necessity to avoid the horrifying consequences that Harry Potter's continued existence would create.
"But as we all know, that unfortunate night, the Dark Lord failed. Hence it is upon us, the purebloods, and what little number of sensible half bloods we have in the magical community, to help capture the abomination that is Harry Potter, who has been disrupting the Dark Lord's efforts and struggles, so that he could be eliminated as soon as possible, so that you, me and the entire magical community's prosperity and happiness could be realised under the Dark Lord's righteous rule."
"Who's the author? Oh, Rabastan Lestrange! No wonder." Fred says.
"He is literate?" George asks incredulously. "I've always had this image of him as an unwashed loon stuck in some basement."
"That'd be his sister in law." Fred says. "Although," he pauses and frowns at George, "Nah that applies to Rabastan too." George shakes his head at him and shares a quiet laughter with him.
"Are you two going to Angelina's today?" Ginny asks suddenly, referring to Potterwatch. They can sense that she doesn't want them to read more about Harry. It's a little peeving, sometimes a little extreme, but she still is sensitive to hearing 'Harry' mentioned more than thrice within five minutes.
"Oh yeah." George nods, leaning away from Fred as he goes to pile food onto his plate.
Because Lee's place was raided by the Death Eaters after their last airing, which was two days ago. They had received the Jordan's frantic patronuses in the evening; they sent one back to them telling them to immediately apparate over to the Burrow.
The reason for the raiding was because Lee had forgotten to put the new password to the program, as they do for each airing, so that it would be secure. This one had gone open and it took no time for the Death Eaters to act.
Soon, Angelina was informed by Lee, and the Johnsons invited the Jordans to their place.
"How could that boy be so careless." their mum grumbles about Lee.
"I never have asked this, but how do they work, those frequent moderators?" their dad asks, fantastically switching the topic as he sensed their mum would most probably end her anxious rant with a ban on them contributing to Potterwatch. He tries to appear nonchalant as their mum shoots him a peeved look.
"It's frequency modulator, dad," George says, grinning.
Interestingly enough, the radio station that they're using for Potterwatch is nothing but the modulator and the microphone that their dad got from one of his own raids. Their dad, no doubt, is well-versed with all the magic-related workings of muggle items –it's his area of expertise; he is the one who gave them the idea to put their band under a password in the first place.
It is the muggle-related mechanisms that he doesn't quite understand.
"Well, you have the microphone, right-" Fred begins.
"So when you speak into it, there are these signals-"George says.
"Oh yes! Eclectic signals!"
"Electric signals, dad!" Ginny exclaims, laughing.
"Hey, wait, how do you know that's what they're called?" George frowns.
"I did have muggle studies all right."
"Oh, you kids really do have more to study than we did." their dad says with a reflective look.
"We used to. I mean topics like these, like muggle inventions and all that." Ginny says.
"Oh yeah," Fred frowns, "Under the current education system, our incredibly wise-"
"Charming," George adds, sensing exactly where Fred is going.
"Professor Alecto Carrow must be imparting valuable knowledge on how to give the muggles-'
"Venereal disease." George cuts in, and Fred is taken by surprise. He was just going to say 'hell'. He looks at George and laughs.
"You're such a pig!" Ginny reprimands for bringing that article up, kicking at his leg.
He watches Fred, while he absently rubs at his shin where Ginny had kicked. Fred has gone back to explaining the workings of radio station to their dad.
George's absentminded grin fades to a soft, wry smile as takes notice of the air in the kitchen that morning- family, and breakfast, and newspaper, and light banter.
His eyes find Fred again. He's engaged in the same conversation with their dad.
It's so typical and normal through the day. Come night, and it's like the first night with Fred all over again.
It's unbelievable.
It's a jarring paradox.