The iron shackle that had once strapped George's broomstick to Umbridge's wall had a place of honour in their flat. Fred called it a symbol of breaking away from the vicious oppression of the unthinking Ministry. George just thought it made them look kinky on the off chance one of them brought a bloke home.

Which didn't happen often these days. Too busy with the shop to do much more than invent, stock, sell, and sleep. Neither of them complained about being successful. Diagon Alley could be rough for new merchants, but their specialized line of mischief-making products was proving very popular with all ages. Just the week before, Fred had sold a bag of Puking Pastilles to a member of the Wizengamot.

They lived above the shop in flat was too small for more than one bed so they hauled a double bed up the steps, dropped it in the middle of the room and called it a day. George slept on the right, Fred on the left, and a pillow in the middle.

The pillow was there for their Mum's comfort really. Waking up intertwined with someone was a very comforting act, even when it was only your twin you were intertwined with.

Two months post-Umbridge and post-Hogwarts, George leaned over and kissed Fred on the mouth after Fred developed a new line of troublemaking pranks that involved engorgement charms and household items. George hadn't meant it to be anything but brotherly.

A moment later, George's skull was cradled by Fred's hands and they were kissing frantically, George's hands already pushing at the worn T-shirt covering Fred's familiar skin. Fred was trembling against George's mouth, but neither of them stopped.

Skin was bared, mouths were red and gasping, cocks slick and pressed up against each other. George twisted underneath Fred, his fingernail catching a brown nipple and moved down Fred's chest, leaving red marks as Fred slowly pushed into his body.

George bit on freckly shoulders and clawed at a strong back. Not a virgin, not by far. Lee had taken care of that two years before - for both of them no less. But this was Fred.

They weren't the same person, no matter how identical they looked. Fred's body responded differently, arching and moving into the rough nails and teeth George was only too happy to offer. His own cock jumped excitedly at each rough thrust Fred made.

It was perfect and sweaty and rough and completely unplanned. Fred's plans were crushed under their bodies, sweat making the ink run, but neither of them cared. Fred came first with a low, guttural moan and a pained expression.

George, with a gentle hand, cupped Fred's face and kissed him deeply, his own hand moving over his cock with lightening fast speed. Fred's hand, clumsy with post-orgasm trembling, joined his, knuckles bumping George's fingers.

George came without a sound, his face pressed against Fred's shoulder and Fred's cock still in his arse. Fred groaned again at the tightening of George's body before carefully withdrawing from him.

They weren't the same person and as George looked in Fred's eyes, he knew that for sure. Uncertainty flickered behind Fred's confident smile, uncertainty George knew wasn't matched in his own.

This was Fred and with a firm hand, George guided Fred into his arms, cradling him against his body. They lay on the bed without a word for a long time, Fred's plans ruined and the pillow on the floor, discarded.

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