by lise. glockgal posted this thing, that was wonderful and amazing and great, except it made me feel so bad for fred. hence:

 

George hauled Fred out from under his bed. "What the devil are you doing under there?"

Fred held a sock out, sheepishly. All Fred's stuff was tossed everywhere, on both their beds and the floor and everything. "It's yours. Except there's only one of them. I think it's under the mattress, except it's not."

"Just forget about it," George answered, already pulling on casual robes and tossing a few coins in his pockets. He stepped around Fred's Arithmancy book. "We're going to be late."

Fred glanced down at the sock. George didn't really even care about the sock. George didn't really even care that he lost the sock. He put it down, hastily, and grabbed his shoes. George hauled him out of the room by the scruff of his neck.

~

"Where's my other sock?" George said, impatiently. "I thought you had them last week?"

Fred shrugged. He didn't know whether to lie about it because obviously George had forgotten all about how he turned the room upside down looking for it, or to lie about it because George had remembered that he'd borrowed it.

~

"Listen, we should give Ron this old thing," and George held out some trick bauble the two of them had bought when they were both like, twelve, and still in first year. "He might get use out of it."

"Him," and Fred snorted. "He doesn't even play pranks."

"Ginny then."

Fred snapped his head around, taking the thing out of George's hands. He didn't even remember what it did; blow powder everywhere, or spill fake ink or something. "She doesn't need it." He stuffed it in a sock in his trunk, the one of George's he still had.

~

"Aren't you ready *yet*?" George said, poking his head around the dormitory door. "Lee and I are going down to the kitchens before we leave for Hogsmede. We'll go without you."

"I know," Fred said. "I'll be out in a minute."

George didn't leave, which was kind of what Fred was hoping he'd do. It didn't even occur to him to leave, Fred thought. "What's taking you so long?" and George picked up a few things from his dressing table, fiddled with them. His hairbrush, except it wasn't his. It was George's. "This is mine," he said.

Fred shrugged again. "I asked Katie if she wanted to have a drink later tonight."

"Oh," George said. "Okay. Maybe me and Lee'll hang with Harry and Ron."

"No," Fred replied. George picked up his toothbrush next, rubbing his finger along the soft bristles absently. "Whatever."

~

Ron said, nose wrinkling, "You two are so weird."

George raised his glass happily. "I'll drink to that."

~

"For this to work," George said, "you're going to have to time it just right. You call out to me, and then I'll run down the hall, and while I'm in the other room, you--" he stopped. "Are you even listening to me?"

Fred shuffled around in his chair. They were sitting alone for once, just the two of them in the corner. Everyone else was actually doing homework. "Not really," he replied. "I was thinking."

"Well, don't," and George handed him the thing. It was supposed to do something, and it all hinged on the timing of George getting into the dining hall ten seconds before everyone else. "I need you to stop thinking."

"You do?" Fred asked. "Well then." He rubbed his forehead. "I have a headache."

George stood up. "From all the thinking." He grabbed Fred's elbow, not his hand. "Come on."

~

In the dormroom, where they had privacy, George laid his soft fingers on Fred's temples and started rubbing gingerly. "I don't have any more aspirin," George confessed, "sorry."

George kept rubbing his head gently. Fred blurted, "I'm sorry I lost your sock."

"What sock?"

George's hands disappeared, and Fred bowed his head, neck popping. His headache was still there. Fred added, "The brown ones? I lost one."

"Oh." When Fred turned around, he saw that George had only gone to get him a candy to suck on, and some water. The way George sat down again, and pulled Fred against his chest easily, was shockingly compassionate and intimate. The whole thing was fairly shocking. Fred leaned back. "I didn't really even like those socks."

"Oh," Fred said. He hadn't known that George didn't like them. "I didn't know."

"I like you," George said. He said it easily. George always said stuff like that easily. That, too, was shockingly intimate.

"Oh," Fred said, again.