Chapter Text
Fred started dividing the Puking Pastilles and Nosebleed Nougats, still thinking about their DA meeting. It had been a pretty good session, barring that twat Zacharias Smith… cheeking Harry like that, who did he think he was? It was enough to make Fred’s blood boil; good thing no one had seen him grip his wand but George. He’d settled on a snarky retort, and at least it had made Harry laugh.
Thinking of the devil, there he was. He climbed through the portrait with an extraordinarily blank look on his face, enough to pique Fred’s interest, “You alright Harry?”
He looked at Fred with surprise, like he’d just noticed him. He shrugged half-heartedly, “Where’s Ron and Hermione?”
“Gone to bed, it’s so late. Where’d you go?”
Harry didn’t say anything, just stared into the fire. Surprised, Fred looked over at him. Watching the way the fire highlighted his tousled black hair, gave his skin an eerie glow. Eventually he spoke, his voice so quiet it was hardly audible over the crackling of the fire, “Do you think I’m a bad kisser?”
Fred blinked, surprised. He could hardly pretend it was the first time he’d thought about kissing Harry, but that wasn’t really what he was asking, “Blimey Harry, I don’t know. Why’d you ask?”
“Er- It’s cause of, um…” Harry stuttered into silence, and an inkling of suspicion came to Fred.
“Cho?”
“Er- yeah.” Harry kept talking, like something was compelling him, “She cornered me after the meeting.”
“Oh,” Fred felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, but he managed a smile, “How was it?”
“Wet,” Harry said with difficulty, and he raised his eyes in surprise, “Cause she was crying.”
“Ah. So it wasn’t good?” Fred smiled, and Harry nodded.
“It can’t have been if she was crying, right?” Harry wiped his face tiredly as Fred said down in the chair next to him, abandoning the pills.
“Well, not necessarily. Maybe she’s just a bit, y’know, emotional.” Fred offered.
“She’s the one who started it. I wouldn’t’ve… she just came at me- and then she’s crying…” He trailed off, catching Fred’s eye and looking away, “Bit of a lousy first kiss.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He patted Harry’s shoulder, “Chin up love, it can only get better from here.”
“And she probably wanted me to ask her out too…” Harry sighed.
“Well,” Fred tried to suppress the twisting in his stomach, “Do you want to ask her out?”
“I dunno… maybe if she’s not crying… but we’ll have to kiss again.” Harry shook his head, “That was not a good kiss.”
“Yeah, the first time’s generally not perfect.” Fred shrugged, “Girls are tricky.”
A faint blush seemed to be creeping up Harry’s face, quite separate from the glow of the first, “I don’t suppose you could give me some tips, could you?”
“Me?” Fred looked down to conceal a grin, but it was no use, “Why not Ron?”
Harry smiled, and they both started laughing a little, “Hermione then?”
“She’s a girl,” Harry said, “It’s different. Just a couple of tips. Please?” He widened those green eyes at Fred, whose stomach dropped abruptly.
“Alright,” He paused for a second, trying to think of the right way to go about this, ”What were you doing with your arms?”
“My arms?” Harry looked down at them in surprise, like they had the answer, “Um, nothing?”
A fit of laughter burst out of Fred, before he saw the confusion on Harry’s face, “Right, you want to kind of hold them with your arms. Like a hug, but leave a little space.”
“Okay,” Harry frowned, “Should I be noting this down?”
“Nah, just remember it in the spirit of the moment. Anyway, then you want to hold on, like…” Fred stopped, aware that he looked a bit insane groping the air, “Mind being a volunteer?”
There was a definite blush this time, Harry’s cheeks colouring a pretty pink. He seemed weirdly out of breath, “Alright.” He stood in the middle of the room, and Fred stepped closer to him.
“And… there.” One arm was hooked loosely around Harry’s waist, “Then you want to make sure your hands are all good. So, lay this out flat against their back.” He followed his own instructions, “And you can put the other one in their hair, or under their face, or just holding their’s.” He took Harry’s hand in his, before looking down at his face.
“Okay,” Harry wobbled slightly on the spot, and Fred pulled him closer in support, “Then?”
“Then you just lean in,” Fred leaned in ever so slightly, still keeping away from Harry, “Tilt your head whichever way feels natural, and close your eyes,” Harry tilted his to the left, closing his eyes and waiting, “Then… you kiss them.” He finished lamely.
“Oh, okay.” Harry opened his eyes, “What do you actually do, in the kissing?” It was Fred’s turn to blush: he swore he could see a smirk on Harry’s face.
“I, um-” Fred’s face burnt, “It’s pretty hard to put into words.”
“So show me.”
The air between them was burning, fizzing. Butterflies were fluttering all through Fred’s blood as he stared at Harry, not quite sure what he was doing, “Harry…”
“Just quickly. Just to show me.”
Fred bent his head down, pressing his lips against Harry’s, then… then… not pulling away. He had meant to, truly, but his lips were so soft. And from what he felt, the way Harry’s body surged against his… Oh God. Fred’s head spun.
Harry pulled back, breathless, “Was that a good kiss?”
“I-” Fred released his hand, tucking a strand of jet-black hair behind his ear, “Jesus, yes.”
“Good,” Harry smiled, swaying slightly against him, “I liked it. And thanks for the help.”
“I hope it was,” Fred laughed slightly, stepping away. He’d gone too far, too much. It was just a good thing Harry didn’t feel anything like that.
“You’re a good kisser.” Fred looked up, taken aback, “It’s- I like you.” He mumbled.
“You what?” Fred’s heart sputtered, “What?”
“I really like you.”
“I thought you liked Cho.”
“I like two people. I don’t know!” Harry smacked his face in confusion, “Doesn’t it say that whoever your true kiss in fairytales is the one?”
“Uh…” Fred struggled to think of a fairytale where that happened, “Harry, you’re fifteen. And I’m nearly eighteen.”
“But you kissed me!”
“To- Oh it wasn’t like that!”
“Yeah it was,” Harry mumbled sulkily, “You kissed me properly.”
“Did not.”
“Did to.”
They glared at each other.
“Fine! Maybe I did. But I don’t like you, so there.” Fred crossed his arms. He softened at the look on Harry’s face, sulky and piteous, “Harry, you’re a sweet kid. You’ll meet someone.”
“Yeah, you.” He stepped closer to Harry, his hands curling around Fred’s robes and pulling him down.
“No, Harry, stop!” Fred grunted, trying to pull his head upwards, “Let. Me. Go!”
“Shan’t!” Harry yanked downwards as hard as he could, their lips crashing together. His arms instinctively wrapped around Harry, the two of them melting into each other. Fred let his eyes close, his mind go blank as Harry’s smaller body pressed into him.
Oh, this was wrong. Fred tried to push him away, ignoring the way Harry’s arms curled around his neck, “Harry, I can’t. I can’t do this.”
“Please,” Harry’s lips were red and utterly kissable, “Come on. One more kiss?”
“No. Come on.” Fred tried to ignore the look on Harry’s face, “I can’t- I can’t kiss you and not feel it, okay? Not mean it.”
“So you do like me!”
“Maybe,” Fred winced at the accusative look on Harry’s face, “Okay, yes. Maybe I like you a little too much. But you’re still a kid. It’s just-”
“Fred, it’s a two year age gap. And if one of us is the childish one…” Harry rolled his eyes, leaning his head back.
“I just don’t want to pressure you.” Fred kissed his forehead, “The fame, and the people… It’s all forced you to grow up so fast.”
“Yeah,” Harry’s mouth turned downwards, “Which is why I want to kiss you. Not Cho. I don’t want someone else who’s grieving. She’s lovely, but she makes me…”
“Yeah?” Fred prompted.
“Sad. Not happy,” Harry frowned, “Sad. Besides, you’re a much better kisser.”
“I guess I am, huh?”
“Damn right.”
He kissed him.
_
George limped back to the common room, legs still wobbly from a Fainting Fancy. They needed to make a note to match the antidotes to the pills.
“Password?” The Fat Lady asked. George waved his hand vaguely in the painting’s direction.
“Give me a second,” He mumbled, laying down on the floor.
“It’s late.” She said, “I refuse to stay awake all night long!”
“Fine,” He mumbled the password, and the painting swung open. He pushed himself to his feet, stumbling inside quietly, and leaning against the fireplace. He opened his eyes only to see a version of him kissing Harry. Wait. He was kissing Harry?
No. It was Fred.
“Oh my God.”
They did not stop making out.
“Oh my God!” George said louder, and they jumped apart. Fred looked at George, a thousand words running through his eyes, but he was too tired to figure it out, “No! No words! What on earth are you two doing?”
“George, I-”
“No, no, no!” George forced himself to his feet. Looking at the hurt look on Harry's face, he forced himself to be softer, “Harry, go to sleep. I need to talk to Fred.”
“George, shut up.” Fred said, “Just shut up.” They looked at each other, and he knew. This wasn’t Fred messing around. This wasn’t just some fling.
“Harry, could you just give us a second?” George flinched at the mutinous look on Fred’s face, “You don’t need to go to bed. Just give us a second.”
Harry stepped aside, scratching his forearms nervously. Fred watched him go, a mushy look on his face. Gross.
“You like him, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” Fred rubbed his face, sighing, “Shit.”
“Shit.” George met his twin’s eyes, “You knew Ginny’s going to go apeshit on you.”
“Please. She’s too tangled with Michael," Fred smiled, before his face crumpled, “I’m an awful person, aren’t I?”
“I don’t know. Harry’s a nice lad. Too good for you.”
“Yeah,” Fred looked over at Harry, “He is.” He turned to look at George, face saying what he couldn’t, “Please?”
“I- Fine. Just you wait till Mum finds out.”
Fred shuddered, “Oh, I’m dreading it.” His eyes drifted over to Harry, and George looked at him too.
“Harry!” George held his hand up, “Come over.”
“Before you say anything, I started it.” Fred and George exchanged glances, both of them cracking a slight smile.
“Yeah, I know.” George sighed, “Alright. You have my blessings, etcetera etcetera. Just please don’t let me catch you making out.”
Harry’s face broke out into the most brilliant smile, “Really?”
“Yeesh, you’re like a kid at Christmas,” George struggled to hide a smile, “Be nice to him. I know he might seem tough, but he’s a big baby.”
“Shut up,” Fred grinned, turning to Harry and squeezing his hand. George walked to the common room, turning back at the last second. Fred looked at him, his eyes shining.
“Thank you.”