fred leaves home. a collaborative effort by lise and glock. because, glockgal wrote this fabulous story, chaser, for someone's birthday, a george/seamus fic that's amazing - except of course lise focused on:

And so when Fred charged off to a lucrative Auror position in Bulgaria and George slunk back into Hogwarts as Hooch's permanent assistant coach

 

He folds a shirt and tries not to look George in the eyes. "I'll just be gone a year, you know. Charlie's meeting with me and..."

George shifts on the bed and doesn't say anything, but Fred knows he's trying to smile.

He ducks underneath the bed and pulls out a pair of wellingtons, shrinking them so they'll fit better. "I think I'll probably have a lot of time to write and stuff. The whole 'hurry up and wait' syndrome, you know, oh. I mean." Because George really didn't know.

George smiled, finally, but it wasn't happy.

Fred turned around and pulled a pair of pants from the closet and started rolling them tight.

"Those are mine," george said.

Fred stared at him, baffled.

~

"it's okay, mum, really," and Fred mashed his hair back down, irritated. "you can actually, y'know, write."

She wiped her eyes. "oh, but," and she sniffled. Arthur smiled tolerantly behind Molly. "You boys," she said, weepy, and couldn't keep going.

"Yes, you boys," Arthur repeated.

Ron and Harry ran up with Fred's trunk, Ginny trailing behind with a large stuffed octopus. "here, here, sorry--" Ron said, trying not to grin brightly. "We just improved it, all right?"

All of them were standing outside on the Weasleys' front lawn, or what would pass for a lawn. a few chickens were pecking away somberly - even they knew someone else was leaving.

"Where's your brother?" Molly suddenly asked, looking around frantically.

Fred shifted from foot to foot. Percy was elsewhere, and Bill was elsewhere, either of them could be who she was talking about. Fred knew it wasn't.

~

Fred was sure his leg was broken, but the mediwitches assured him it wasn't, and he grumpily limped home. Not much of a home, really; Bulgarian housing standards left much to be desired. no crooked warm pipes, no stairs polished shiny from years of traffic and worst of all, no high, screaming, giggly voices.

"Took you long enough to get home," George's head was sitting in his fireplace.

"George, I--!" But his throat closed because it was so dry from fighting in that fiery warehouse.

"So I get to choose the next Chasers for Gryffindor, eh?" George laughed. "Guess who's trying out."

"R."

"Yeah! Like I'd pick anyone else! Heh. Yeah, no, I'll be fair, I suppose. Unless all the other brats just piss me off. Ron's no flyer, but that doesn't make him any less of a Weasley."

"George. Why don't you--"

"Okay." Because he knew exactly what Fred was going to say. And when he flooed, Fred didn't give a damn that he was covered in soot.

~

"did you really think I wouldn't come?" George said, finally, wiping off his forehead?

they'd managed sex, in among the taking-care-of-Fred's-leg thing, and the "hi I'm glad you're here", except that was pretty much wrapped up into the sex. maybe they just had sex.

"-what?" fred asked. "Oh." and he suddenly realized what George had said. "Oh, yes, well, I know it's been a while for us, but not that long and I've heard it's a skill you don't forget, like riding a broomstick, though I don't know, I'd think it'd be possible to forget but anyway I didn't." Fred shifted his leg uncomfortably.

George answered, "of course I would."

"Yes."

Fred was abysmally afraid that George was going to say something else, and he'd have to make some other stupid joke to cover the fact that yes, he had been afraid that George wouldn't visit, and yes, he was surprised and shocked he had. Instead, George just stared up at the ceiling. "Bill and Charlie were back home last week. I guess Charlie has a month, Bill has at least a few weeks." He snorted. "I had to share with Ron again."

"Well," and Fred gulped, suddenly. "They both still practically have a room there. Bill gets loads of time off."

"Yeah."

George was still staring, as if something had caught his full attention. He said, "I just. Sometimes I wonder how they ever left."

~

George stared back up at Fred, that flat stare Fred really loved.

"Are you serious?"

Fred nodded, trying not to grin.

George squinted at him. "I don't trust you, alone like this. I know you're already a right bastard."

"And you're a sneaky git who is shameless about nepotism. Go on!"

George hunched more over the table and slowly circled his spoon in the soup. Well, it was more grease than soup, really. And a few bloated, indistinguishable white vegetables. "This is disgusting."

Fred was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, behind George, leaning over him. He kissed the back of George's neck. "Go on. I'm addicted to it really. It's delicious."

George fell for it.

Fred laughed so hard, he collapsed on the floor, but then George slid on top of him, hands spidering up and under Fred's sweater, thigh pushing inbetween Fred's legs, and Fred stopped laughing.

But Fred's mouth was still open enough for George to triumphantly spit a wedge of oily vegetable into it.