because glock drew this amazing picture of george and oliver making out on a broom. by lise.

 

Fred was peering out the window when Ron jostled his elbow. "and what are we doing?" Ron said, as Fred tried to control his breathing. When Ron had come up behind him he'd yelped, panting frantically. "Looking for birds?" Ron said, cheerily.

"What?" Fred asked, still pretty shaken up.

"You," he said. "What're you looking at?"

"Nothing," Fred answered quickly, shortly. He wasn't smiling, and Ron shrugged, left him be at the window.

Ron went back to the table where Harry and him were doing something or other - it wasn't the activity that was important, but the fact that they were sucessfully avoiding homework - but couldn't stop from peeking over at Fred once and a while. Fred didn't seem his usual cheery self. He didn't seem at all cheery.

"Harry," Ron said, low, "what would you do if you thought your brother was acting very, oddly."

Harry blinked. "Ron," he said, "for years the closest thing I had to a brother liked to lock me in a cupboard."

"Fair enough," Ron answered. But he couldn't stop looking over at Fred, who was still just looking out the window. He must have stayed there, reading once and a while, but mostly staring, for over a half-hour. That in and of itself was surprising, because it was very rare to ever see Fred concentrating on anything, even a view.

Eventually, when there were less people around and it was quieter, Fred pulled out a pair of very ordinary looking spy glasses, held them to his face. Ron was puzzled. "Looking for an owl?" Ron called out.

When Fred turned around, it was with that same shaken up look he'd been wearing all afternoon. "Oh, hah. Hah," and he laughed weakly. Ron frowned. Fred ignored him.

~

Later, after Fred and Lee had already gone down to dinner, George and Oliver finally came into the Common room, panting and out of breath, wearing Quiddich robes. "Where the hell were you two?" Ron asked, irritated. He was going to be late to dinner, at this rate, and he shoved his things aside. At least he wouldn't be as late as them.

George stretched, casually, fully. His neck, corded, made a perfect arc with his back, his thighs, even his arms raised high in the air. Oliver was a bit pink, Ron figured from the cold weather outside, and immediately went up to change. George said, "oh. Practise."