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Dissonance

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The first time Lee commentates at one of Gryffindor's Quidditch matches, George ties a piece of blue cloth to the end of his broom.

"So you'll know which of us is which," he explains to Lee. "Blue so it doesn't disappear into my robes."

Lee nods. He's worried about that, a little; it is one thing to always know Fred from George when he can see their faces, quite another from thousands of yards away, and at high speed.

When the cloth goes fluttering away -- George hasn't tied it tightly enough -- Lee finds it doesn't matter; he knows George, regardless.

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The curiosity about what it would be like not to have a twin seems disloyal. It must be tremendously lonely to be a singleton like Percy or any of their other siblings. All their lives, George and Fred have shared: rooms, clothes, friends. They've always understood each other's feelings. He wouldn't have traded that closeness for anything. But now... everything has changed. George is in love, and he is sure that Fred wouldn't understand, because it isn't Angelina, or Katie, or any girl they've whispered about late at night. George loves Lee Jordan, and he doesn't know what to do.

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"I was going to tell you eventually," George says, his voice unhappy. "I just didn't... wasn't..."

Fred pushes the image of contrasting dark and pale skin away, how George and Lee had looked when he walked in and saw them embraced.

"You're in love with Lee?" Fred likes Lee just fine, they've been friends for years, but he can't imagine fancying another bloke.

"Yeah."

"And here I thought it was me Mum dropped on the head." He doesn't really think George is daft, he wants to make a joke, but George gives him a hurt look and leaves the room.

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"He as good as said that he thinks I'm mental for liking you."

Lee would like to hex Fred for making his twin so miserable, but knows that would upset George further. Instead he hugs George they sit under the Quidditch stands.

"He'll get used to the idea," he says finally. "I've no doubt."

It's not quite the truth, but George heaves a sigh and relaxes a bit. Lee runs his thumb along the line of George's jaw, and wonders how he can be so turned on by being with George, when he's never felt anything but friendship for Fred.

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Their beds are only feet apart, but the distance between them feels unbridgeable. Across the room George hears Lee's light snores. Fred is not asleep, George knows that from the way he's shifting under the bedclothes. Fred must know that George is still awake, too. Stubbornly George decides to let his twin speak first, though he can't remember when they last ended a day angry with each other. Fred took Angelina to the Yule Ball; he ought to understand that George wants to spend time with the person he likes, too. Why should it matter that Lee isn't a girl?

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Fred glances across the Gryffindor table at breakfast. Although Ron is beside Fred on one side, and Angelina on the other, reeling off Quidditch statistics, Fred feels incomplete without George beside him in his accustomed place. He's not sure if anyone else has noticed that George has moved next to Lee.

Why did George have to go and fall in love anyhow? Fred stabs angrily at a piece of sausage. And what does Lee see in George? Now Fred pauses, thinks. Does Lee think of Fred the same way? Even their mother confuses them; what if Lee does the same?

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Lee is sure that Fred is watching him, although not when George is with Lee, which seems odd. They've been trying to be discreet. No snogging in the common room, no holding hands or sitting beside each other any more often than they ever have – Lee knows exactly how often that is, he'd been keeping track for months. He doesn't think anyone else has noticed that the twins are not so inseparable as they have always been. Lee may be the only one who's seen the different hurt in both their eyes; he wonders if George thinks it's worth it.

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Lee continues to treat Fred as he always has, as a good friend, although Fred doesn't necessarily respond. George himself finds it difficult. His twin is talking to him again, but the comfortable almost-telepathic communication that George depends on no longer exists. With Lee it's different; despite years of friendship between them George has to explain everything much more than he is used to doing. He's grateful that Lee doesn't try to make him talk about it, instead waiting for George to speak first. Soon he will, but right now he will take what comfort he can in Lee's touch.

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Three weeks, it's been, and Fred can't bear it any longer.

"George."

They are showering after Quidditch practice. Fred looks at his twin, wondering how a body so like his own can feel an attraction that is so foreign to him.

"What?"

George's voice is quiet, wary. He has been unlike his usual self ever since... since this began, and Fred knows it's his own doing.

He isn't sure what to say to restore them to what they used to be. Maybe it is an impossible hope, but he tries.

"Maybe... maybe Lee would like to help develop the Wheezes?"

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"It isn't my thing," Lee says, hard though it is to watch George's face crumple in disappointment. "I know Fred means well, and I appreciate that, but experimental charms really don't interest me."

George gives him a half-smile. "I know. I just hoped you might want to."

"I'd like the excuse to spend more time with you," Lee tells him candidly, "but it would be awkward with Fred there, anyhow."

He puts out a hand to George, who comes and sprawls next to him on the bed. They exchange a few kisses, both listening for the sound of anyone approaching.

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It's a Hogsmeade weekend, but the twins aren't going. Everyone assumes they've been up to their usual tricks and that this is their punishment, but it isn't true.

Fred waits in the common room, making sure that no one returns unexpectedly and goes up to the sixth-year boys' room. There, George and Lee are kissing, thrashing about in Lee's bed with most of their clothes off -- George still has one sock on -- for the very first time.

They only touch each other today, as neither is yet ready for more, but George thinks that it's perfect just as it is.

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"How did you know?" Fred asks.

George shrugs. "I just... knew," he says unhelpfully. "One day I looked at Lee, and there was a spark. That's all."

Fred wrinkles his forehead, trying to understand. "Because I always thought you liked girls. You used to talk about Katie, and Angelina, and Eustacia in Ravenclaw. Were you just pretending?"

"Not really. Sort of. I like girls well enough, but I guess I finally realized they weren't what I wanted." He laughs, digging an elbow into Fred's ribs. "You should be glad. With me and Lee both shirt-lifters, there's more girls for you."

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Practice tends to be early for Lee's taste, but he usually goes; partly to rehearse his commentating, but mostly so he can watch George fly.

There are often other Gryffindors there, especially when Angelina doesn't hold practice too early. Today Colin sits near him, listening as Lee talks.

"How can you tell Fred and George apart?" Colin asks.

There's a flutter in Lee's stomach as he responds, truthfully enough, "I don't know." No one has ever asked him that before. He simply knows, that's all. He's sure that his feelings towards George are the reason, though he doesn't understand how.

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"A letter from Lee?"

George flushes as he nods and stows the letter in his pocket. He and Fred are working on new ideas for the shop, which now looks like it will be a reality, thanks to Harry. It's strange to be home, not to see Lee daily; so they've been writing although they've never corresponded before.

Later he will open Lee's letter and sit alone under a tree to read it. Lee often writes about the things he would like to do with George someday, and mostly they're not ideas that George wants to share with his twin.

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It seemed a summer like any other – carrying out experiments in their room, playing two-on-two Quidditch with Ron and Ginny, de-gnoming the garden under their mother's command.

But not everything was the same. In the hot pale nights Fred lay in his bed, touching himself, aware that George was doing likewise from the creaking mattress and the sound of his twin's breathing. Fred imagined different girls as he always had – Angelina, Cho, Katie, the witch from last month's magazine – yet the thought kept intruding that George was imagining Lee.

Fred tried it, once, to see what it might be like.

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Lee frowns, chewing on his knuckle. He trusts George to keep their letters private, and Merlin knows that he means everything he's written, but it still feels odd to write down things like this. He dips his quill into the inkpot and slowly writes, "I have an idea. Next Thursday, at midnight – we could both wank at the same time, imagining each other. Not as good as being together I know, but what do you think?" He worries that the plan will seem too soppy to George, but seals the letter and sends it before he can change his mind.

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August is nearly over. Their mother is slipping into her annual panic, checking whether everyone has enough clothes, worrying about buying that year's books.

"We could tell her that we don't want to go back," Fred says. He gestures around their room, full of joke experiments. "No point to it for us, is there? Only three O.W.L.s each and not likely we'll do better on the N.E.W.T.s."

"She and Dad would be upset," George argues. "It's only one more year. We can use it for more testing." He says nothing about Lee, but Fred looks at him sharply before agreeing.

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"Hey, Lee." Fred steps into the train compartment. Where would they sit but with their best friend?

"Hey, Fred. Hey, George."

Fred looks away as George sits next to Lee. They don't kiss – George claps Lee on the shoulder and Lee elbows him back – but Fred can practically see the heat between them.

"Something from the trolley, boys?"

"Uh, yeah. Sure," says Fred.

George fumbles in his pocket for their money. "I'm kind of hungry."

"Me, too." Lee's words are almost inaudible, but there is no mistaking his look.

Fred suspects the two of them won't waste any time, tonight.

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"It's safe, right?"

"Trust me."

"I do, but... oh. Oh yeah. Missed this so much..."

"Me, too."

A pause. Soft rustle of robes. Desire so intense, the desks ought to catch fire.

"Do you want...?"

"Yeah. Here, I brought..."

Fumblings and tentative movements.

"That okay?"

"Uh. Give me a minute."

Deep breaths interrupted by urgent kisses, relaxing.

"Okay. Now."

"Oh, fuck. Oh. Oh."

"There, there, oh fuck yeah!"

Rough-soft hands on bare skin, tugging, teasing. The smell of sweat and sex and chalk dust.

"Oh, fuck, Lee, so good, I can't..."

A cry, half-triumph half-regret.

"I love you," Lee whispers.

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"Did Ron tell you? Harry's starting a group to practice Defense Against the Dark Arts."

George looks up as Fred sits on the sofa next to him. Fred's voice is quiet; Lee, on George's other side, leans around to hear.

"What, you think we should join?"

Fred nods. "Could be useful."

"Who's invited?" Lee asks. His hand touches George's, hidden between their bodies.

"I'm not sure. There's a meeting in the Hog's Head next weekend."

"All right," says George.

"I'm in," says Lee, and George has to be careful not to gasp as Lee's finger traces designs on his wrist.

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"Banned!?"

"Yeah. For life. Me and Harry, and Umbridge added you to the list as well."

"I would've fought if Alicia and the others hadn't been hanging onto me." It should have been a dream come true, having Alicia, Angelina, and Katie all grabbing him, but not under those circumstances.

"No reason to stay now, is there?" Fred continues. "No Quidditch, Hermione's stopped us recruiting test subjects for the Wheezes..."

"I'm not leaving yet." George's eyes flicker to Lee's bed. "Not yet."

Fred scowls, but he can tell there's no point in arguing. He's not prepared to leave school alone.

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"Sooner or later we'll be caught."

"What?"

"Umbridge. Filch. One of those Inquisitorial Squad prats. One of them'll catch Fred and me, eventually."

Lee blinks, sighs. "Yeah." There's no point in asking George not to make trouble. He wouldn't be George, if he didn't, and besides, Lee agrees it's needed. "What'll you do then?"

"Leave." A simple word.

"I can't." Not if he wants to be a professional Quidditch commentator. He has to finish school.

"I know. I've worked out a code, and Oliver will forward letters."

"Yeah." Lee gives George a twisted smile. "I'll make sure you're not forgotten."

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There's plenty of reason George ought to be not just cheerful but positively jubilant – no more school (they weren't going to manage more than a couple of N.E.W.T.s apiece anyhow), the shop's doing well, and Mum hasn't sent a Howler in days.

It's too soon to expect a letter; routing through Oliver always takes a week. Still. George bites his tongue to keep from snapping when Fred grins from behind the till.

That night they are eating beans on toast – it's George's week to cook – when Fred says, "Surprise for you," and, looking smug, hands him a letter from Lee.

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"He's put Nifflers in her office," George says, with a conspiratorial smirk.

"Lee? Umbridge's office?"

George nods, and Fred matches his expression.

"Wicked," they say together. Something loosens in Fred's chest. George is still his twin, his other self. It's not been easy seeing him moping around, and Fred hasn't enjoyed receiving the brunt of George's bad moods either. He has an idea that might be distracting, though.

"About the Wheezes," he says.

"Yeah?"

"I was thinking we could develop an adult line. Disappearing knickers, things like that."

"Splendid notion." George pulls out a quill and starts scribbling. "What else?"

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"So," Lee says, when he finds George.

"Oi, Fred! Watch the till for a bit – you can restock the Canary Creams later."

The office behind the door marked Private is untidy, the desk overflowing with crumpled parchment and bits of this and that.

"I've a job with the Arrows!" Lee's enthusiasm lights his face. "Just got the owl this morning."

"That's smashing!" George grabs him, giving him a thorough snog. "Only... wait. What about our plans?"

Lee keeps his arms around George. "They want me to live in Appleby."

George nods slowly. "Maybe that's better anyhow than sharing with us."

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George sits on the floor, leaning against Lee's knee. Fred shovels a last bite of Chinese takeaway into his mouth and sets down his plate. "What do you think?"

"They're clever," Lee admits, fingers sliding over the prototypes for the twins' new adult line. His voice is doubtful.

"But?" George asks.

"Attendance is down at the Arrows' games. People are worried, they're not spending money on fun, even if the Ministry keeps saying all's well. A line of protective items – not that kind, George," he says sharply as George snorts. "That sort of stuff would probably fly off the shelves."

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"When do you think you'll move out?"

They are working on charming a new batch of Shield Hats when Fred asks the question. George looks up, startled.

"What brought that on?"

Fred raises an eyebrow. "C'mon, I hear you groaning Lee's name when you wank at night."

George's face heats up. It hasn't occurred to him that Fred would listen. "That's private."

"Between us?"

"Well..." Fred has a point, George admits reluctantly. "No time soon."

"You don't mind if I have a girl stay, though."

"Of course not!" George is indignant. "You've no problem with Lee stopping over. Fair's fair."

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Lee has a tiny flat in Appleby – "Just big enough to swing a Kneazle," he jokes – and when George visits they practically fall over each other, but neither of them minds.

"How d'you like commentating for the Arrows?" George asks, running his fingers across Lee's sweaty chest and picking off a stray ginger hair.

"It's what I always wanted." Lee stretches. "Sometimes, though, I'm not sure if it's enough."

"Enough?"

Lee, so ready with words to describe anything in Quidditch, fumbles to explain. "With You-Know-Who back. Yours and Fred's Shield Hats – I feel I ought to work against him too."

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Business is booming; the twins can hardly keep up, but they don't want to hire someone else quite yet. It's difficult for George and Lee to be together, to both of their regret, but Fred can't see Angelina often either.

"Have you ever thought about what things'll be like when it's all over?" George asks Fred, who is filling jar after jar with Instant Darkness Powder, while George pairs up Shield Gloves.

Fred grins. "We'll be able to go back to the Snackboxes and the Whiz-Bangs. It'll be great."

"And get a flat with more rooms." George winks in return.

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"We don't know where Ron is. With Harry and Hermione, but where?" Concern sits oddly on George's face, which is more accustomed to wearing grins.

"There's no way to help them if we don't know," adds Fred.

Lee is at the twins' flat, sprawled out and watching them pace restlessly. "There are other folks who need help. Just knowing that there are some resisting You-Know-Who would cheer them."

"Sales of the hats are way up," Fred agrees.

George looks speculatively at Lee. "Communication is your thing, Lee. I wonder how hard it would be to set up an illicit broadcast?"

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Any time Lee gets nervous about doing Potterwatch—it is dangerous, after all—he takes a deep breath and thinks of George.

He imagines the Quidditch stadium at Hogwarts, and George swooping around it on his broom, his hair flaming in the sunlight as he sends a Bludger flying at an opposing Chaser. No fear, no hesitation, just delight and determination to win.

That is the image that Lee hangs onto. If they all fight hard enough, do their bit in resisting You-Know-Who, eventually, surely, they will win, and then he and George can be together as they always planned.

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Fred loves talking on Potterwatch. George has decided that he'd rather not see Lee under those circumstances. The two of them are still being very discreet and only Fred knows for sure that they're together.

"Why?" Fred asks one night after he's come back from being on the program.

"You know the kind of grief Mum would give me. And Lee's not sure about his parents, either. They'll all say it's just a phase." George's face sets in stubborn lines.

"When you're ready to tell everyone, you know I'll back you." Fred holds out his hand, and George takes it.

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Before Fred can leave after the end of the Potterwatch broadcast, Lee gives him the sealed parchment.

"Give this to George?" he asks, and is glad that his dark skin won't show the blood that heats his face when Fred grins back at him knowingly.

"No trouble, mate."

Lee has charmed the letter, and hopes that he made the spell precise enough so that only George can open it, not his twin. He swallows hard. If George puts the ring on, Lee will feel it, and he'll know that it was the best idea he's ever had, not the worst.

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The band is a twist of gold and silver, and George wears it on the ring finger of his right hand. He knows that Fred saw him put it on, understood what it meant, but Fred never asks, only grins knowingly when he catches George running his thumb over the cool metal.

George doesn't know what charms Lee put on it. Sometimes he thinks he can feel Lee's heartbeat, but perhaps it's his imagination? Someday, perhaps, after You-Know-Who has been defeated, he'll move the ring to his other hand, but for now he wears it as a token of hope.

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Fred doesn't envy George, not really. If Ministry officials ever catch Lee, Merlin only knows what might happen. Fred is nowhere near ready to settle down himself; it just feels odd, like when he was little, poking his tongue against where a tooth had always been to find only a gap. George is still here, laughing with him over burnt toast, frowning in concentration as they work to replenish the stock for the shop. Yet Fred sees it won't last forever. He is glad when the call comes, telling them that the fight they've been half-dreading, half-anticipating, is at hand.

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Lee's shoulder throbs where a Stinging Hex struck him; he can't even remember why he is limping. Instinctively he heads across the Great Hall toward the cluster of redheads, realizing halfway there that something is terribly wrong. Fred's body is laid out, with all his family gathered around, and Lee hovers uncertainly a few yards away. When he sees George – George who has always laughed at everything – raise one trembling hand and bite down on his knuckles, Lee cannot pretend he's not part of this. He steps to George and holds him tightly, letting them both mourn for their loss.

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Everyone in the wizarding world celebrates – or perhaps mourns – on the second of May, remembering Voldemort's defeat and all the other deaths it took to bring it about. Fred's death is merely one of many, then.

The Weasley family naturally makes a point of remembering him on the first of April as well. There is an annual pilgrimage (as Lee privately thinks of it) to his grave, and a family meal afterward.

George and Lee, though, remember Fred on the first of September, the anniversary of the day that the three of them first met, waiting for the Hogwarts Express.

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Weasley Sunday dinners are always crowded and happy, with guests and spouses and grandchildren running around. This week everyone is there, even Charlie, home for a visit.

George accepts a piece of blackberry pie (it was Fred's favorite, too) and although Lee politely declines, saying he has eaten far too much already, he steals a few bites from George's plate.

"You'd better talk now, before your mum starts doing dishes," he whispers to George, who stands.

Gradually the hubbub quietens, and heads turn toward George as he makes the announcement.

Charlie is the first to congratulate them on their engagement.