Fic: When It All Breaks Apart (George/Viktor) Part 1/3

[katmarajade]

Title: When It All Breaks Apart
Author:  katmarajade 
Requestor:  midnight_birth
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing:  George Weasley/Viktor Krum
Rating:  PG-13
Wordcount:  ~20,000
Warnings:  Major TWIN ANGSTINESS (no character death) and 16-year-old pov and my twins swear, a lot!
Summary:  Set completely during GoF and painstakingly canon compliant.  When Fred starts dating Angelina, George realizes he's not interested in girls.  He then meets Viktor Krum and begins a secret relationship. The twins don't react well to the idea that they might be more different than they ever thought.   
Disclaimer: Sadly, none of these characters is mine.  They belong to JKR.  I'm just playing with them. 
A/N: written for slashfest round eight and also known as the fic that ate my brain!  Many thanks to my lovely beta tree00faery who read over this monster and helped me make it much better.  She is very clever and all the remaining mistakes and obsessive harping on the heavy handed twin angst! is because I'm as stubborn as George and wouldn't listen.  And paytofay who patiently held my hand and let me ramble on about this story for months on end.  I really hope you like this, midnight_birth !  I tried to fit in some of your kinks and I apologize for the lack of smuttiness.  *facepalm*  The boys kinda took over and 20k of 16-year-old angst later... well, I was helpless to stop them.



They had been planning on tinkering with the Canary Cream formula that evening after supper. The texture was currently too clumpy for decent candy, plus the feathers kept coming out blue instead of the yellow they were going for, but George had been looking through an old herbal guide during History of Magic and had come up with the idea of adding amaranth stamen.

Fred had offered to go nick the ingredient from the potions cupboard while George helped Lee, who was having a difficult time controlling the Aguamenti charm and had accidentally made it rain throughout the entire Charms corridor. That had been an hour and a half ago. It had only taken a few minutes of George's brilliant instruction before Lee had mastered the charm. They had then spent about fifteen minutes sending jets of water around the room, drenching the curtains and themselves in the process.

Then Lee had run off to the library so that Fred and George would be able to brew in peace once Fred returned. Lee had learned over the years to avoid being in the room during experimental brewing, after one explosion that had turned his dreadlocks into neon pink flobberworms.

Slightly worried that Fred had been caught by Filch or accosted by Nott and his groupies, who still hadn't forgiven them for a particularly brilliant practical joke the year before, George set off to find his twin. They were so closely connected that it rarely took long for either of them to find the other. However, George's worry faded when he found Fred snogging Angelina near the suits of armor.

Fred wasn't in trouble. He didn't need help. He'd snuck off to have it off with one of their teammates.

And he'd lied to George about it.

Something hot and poisonous coursed through his blood and George felt the sudden urge to hex the both of them. Too many emotions flitted through his mind and he purposefully shoved them away. Stalking back to the dorm, he grabbed his Cleansweep and headed out towards the Quidditch pitch. He used the low traffic corridors and two secret passages that he and Fred had discovered through the years, thanks to the Marauders' Map and their own cleverness. He was not supposed to be out on the grounds at this hour, but he definitely couldn't be arsed to care about that.

He managed to avoid running into anyone on the way out, though there was one near miss with Mrs. Norris near the Entrance Hall. Shoving off the ground, he shot into the air almost violently. He completed two laps around the pitch at breakneck speed before slowing down just enough to add in a few sharp turns and spins to let off steam.

Fred was snogging Angelina. Angelina bloody Johnson. And he hadn't told George about it. George was not entirely sure what he was most upset about. That Fred was snogging some bint. That Fred had not told him that he was snogging someone. That Fred was snogging someone when he was supposed to be with George. Perhaps all those things.

Executing a shaky turn on the protesting Cleansweep, he cursed his twin for messing everything up.

They were supposed to be the same, damn it. They were the Weasley Twins. FredandGeorge. GeorgeandFred. Gred. Forge. Now Fred was off being just Fred with someone who was not George. And George had no idea how he was supposed to be just George without Fred. He wasn't sure if he even could.

George Weasley had spent the entirety of his sixteen years being a mirror image, one half of a perfect whole. He loved it. People raved about how sodding wonderful individuality was, but he had never quite understood their point. He supposed that they had to tell themselves that being unique was ace, because not everyone was lucky enough to be born with someone to complete them. George had Fred and it was the most brilliant, perfect thing in the entire world.

Rather, they were supposed to be the same. But George sure as hell didn't want to snog Angelina. He really didn't. It was not until he saw his mirror image kissing her that he really understood that. He didn't want to. But Fred did.

They were supposed to be the same, but they weren't anymore. How could they be identical in every single way but so opposite on something as major as this? This was so much bigger than the tiny differences that they had had before. Fred really hated Aubergine Parmesan and George thought it was rather tasty. And George was always slightly better at Charms, while Fred had the tiniest edge over him when it came to Potions. But those things were so small, so inconsequential.

His Cleansweep shuddered a bit as he attempted a steep dive, but in his frustration he pressed forward. The angle proved to be a bit too much for his old broom though, and about four feet away from the earth, the Cleansweep jolted and he dropped heavily to the cold ground.

The broom dropped to the ground near him, but George made no attempt to retrieve it. He stayed where he had fallen, spread eagle on the pitch, and slammed his arms repeatedly into the damp grass. Letting out a litany of foul words that would have had his mum hexing him with soap bubbles in his mouth, he vented his frustration to the empty autumn air.

"Are you all right?"

At the accented query, George shot upright, running a hand through his hair in embarrassment. He had not realized anyone would be out on the pitch at this hour, much less there to witness him get bucked off his own broom and then lie about on the grass muttering to himself like a mad man.

"Oh, yeah. I'm fine. Just a right shit day." George's words faded when he realized that Viktor Krum was standing in front of him. "What are you doing out here anyway?" He managed, silently berating himself as soon as the words left his mouth. Viktor Krum was on the sodding Quidditch Pitch holding a broom. It was quite obvious what he was doing.

"I wanted to fly. Like you, I had a right shit day." George grinned as the Quidditch star echoed his earlier phrase in a heavily accented voice and Krum appeared a bit startled at the sudden transformation. George was well aware of the power of the Weasley twin smile and amped it up just a little, hoping to make up for his earlier lameness.

"Well, the best remedy for shit days is flying. So, wanna race?" The words shot out of George's mouth before he had a chance to think that an international Quidditch star would have no desire to race against a demonstrably pathetic sixteen year old with a ten year old broom.

He cringed a bit at his boldness and then promptly wondered where this sudden embarrassment and self-censure was coming from. He was used to the total lack of inhibition that he had with Fred. They were a team, a unit, one fucking mind and FredandGeorge never got embarrassed about anything, no matter how ridiculous or humiliating the situation. He did not like how easily embarrassed just George was.

Krum just looked at him appraisingly and George cursed the uncomfortable, awkward feeling that welled up inside him. George vividly remembered the last time that he had seen Krum, up in the top box at the Quidditch World Cup. Though there was no way that Viktor Krum would remember him from something like that. Without two black eyes and a face full of blood, Krum looked quite a bit different. He seemed a little taller than George remembered, probably two or three inches taller than George himself. Though his build was slight and his shoulders stooped a bit, there was a bold confidence in the way that he held his Firebolt that was oddly reassuring and somehow appealing.

"I will win," Krum said, dark eyebrows lifting high above his eyes.

"Well, of course you will. You've got a bloody Firebolt. It'll still be fun though. And I don't fancy going back inside just yet, so I'm willing to suffer through the humiliating defeat." George offered another easy grin and reached his hand back, letting the old Cleansweep jump up into his grasp.

They kicked off the ground and shot into the air. As if it felt bad about its earlier upset, George's broom behaved remarkably well. There was no way to keep pace with a Firebolt, of course, but it did all right.

An hour later, covered in sweat and breathing hard, both boys landed heavily onto the pitch. George stumbled a bit as his Cleansweep bucked on landing, but managed not to fall on his arse. He shot another famous Weasley grin at Krum, trying not to think about how he was turning into an uncoordinated moron in the presence of a world-famous Quidditch star and how that thought was making his stomach churn funnily.

Krum looked at him with a curiously blank expression, his dark hair sticking up in sweaty peaks on his forehead and one of his heavy eyebrows mussed. When Krum's face quirked into a hesitant smile, George felt a rush of heat course through him while his fingers tingled with chills and his stomach twisted in a wild and unfamiliar way.

"I'm Viktor," stated the suddenly smiling Bulgarian plainly, as if George might have no idea who he had been flying with for the past hour. Luckily, George Weasley was an expert at keeping a cool head and he was impressed at how confident and even his voice sounded when he answered.

"George Weasley. Pleasure." With a grin, George clasped Viktor's outstretched hand. "I hope beating my arse on a broomstick managed to brighten up an otherwise rotten day."

Viktor smiled at him again, and George suddenly felt like he might be able to outrace Viktor's Firebolt without even the use of a broom. "Yes, I think it has helped very much. Maybe sometime we can race again and I will bring you my spare broom, so it is more fair. I will still win, of course, but then you cannot say it was only because of the Firebolt."

The contained laughter in Viktor's teasing tone made George grin even wider. "Ah, you'll let me on a Firebolt then? I'd be a bit more worried if I were you. I'm wickedly talented, I'll have you know."

"Oh, I noticed," Viktor smirked. "But you are still not as good as me."

"Pride goeth before the fall…" George intoned solemnly, and there was a long moment of smirking silence before they both burst out laughing.

"It was very nice to meet you, George." With one last smile and an almost shy looking wave, Viktor confidently swung a well-muscled leg over his broom and soared off towards the lake. George stood on the pitch for a long minute, heart racing and grin growing progressively larger.

Who the hell cared what cow his brother was snogging. He just had a fucking fantastic fly and an actual how-do-you-do with Viktor bloody Krum. Letting out a whoop of excitement, George grabbed his finicky Cleansweep and started back towards Hogwarts at a full out run.

*** ***

Two days later, as George, Fred, and Lee were walking down to Potions, they passed a group of Slytherins and Durmstrang students milling about in the corridor. Lee craned his neck, trying to get a better view of Krum, who was scowling and hunched over a bit, leaning up against the stone wall. Fred made a joke about Slytherin welcome committees, which George laughed at automatically without really listening.

George tried not to stare as they walked past, and, for the first time in his life, he hoped that the Slytherins wouldn't notice him and start in on their usual snide commentary on his family. Most days he welcomed their pathetic attempts, because it gave him free license to insult and jinx right back, but for some reason he didn't want Viktor to hear all their insults about him.

"For an international superstar, he's kind of glowery, don't you think? It's bloody curious, if you ask me. Man's a genius on a broom, plays Quidditch for a living-- which is like the best job ever, makes loads of galleons, and probably gets his share of totally fit birds." Fred's commentary on Viktor snapped George out of his muddled thoughts.

"Yeah, I wager it's brilliant." George responded half-heartedly, sparing another quick glance back at the sneering Slytherin squad and Viktor Krum, who appeared just as cool as Fred made him out to be, leaning casually against a stone wall in a dark red cloak and scowling at the world.

Then Viktor's eyes seemed to catch his and for just the briefest of moments, the edges of Viktor's mouth twitched up in smile. George couldn't restrain the enormous grin that lit up his face, even when Viktor's scowl immediately slammed back into place as another red-cloaked Durmstrang student asked him something.

"What's got you beaming like a nutter then, George?" Fred asked, bemused, as they made their way down the stone steps into the dungeon.

"Oh, nothing, Fred. Just thought of a job even better than Quidditch. Quidditch stars might get the ladies, but when we've got our own joke shop, we're going to get all the laughs."

Fred grinned at the mention of the joke shop they had been discussing off and on for the past couple years. "Right in one! All the laughs! And judging by the scowl on Krum's face, it looks like he could use a few good laughs. And some ladies. Does the man never smile?"

George tried to hold in the grin from taking over his entire face, "Yeah, I reckon he does. Given proper incentive."

They slipped into Potions under Snape's baleful glare and grabbed their usual table. George made an effort to refocus his attention from fancy Quidditch stars and onto the foul, greasy git of a Professor who was currently lecturing the class on the Draught of the Living Dead. After all, Potions was a damn useful skill for a joke shop owner. He only managed a modicum of success with that though, because every few minutes that momentary twitching smile of Viktor's would flash in his head. He wondered if it was bad form to hope that Viktor had a horrible day and would want to have a fly again soon.

*** ***

"You're so lucky that you get to compete in the Triwizard tournament. Fred and I tried to get past the age line, but our aging potion didn't work." George sighed and fiddled with the pebbles on the ground. They had taken to hiding underneath the Quidditch stands when Viktor's fan club of shrieking girls wandered out to the pitch in search of him. The girls were camped out on the other side of the pitch, cozy in their blankets, waiting for Viktor to appear.

"Yes, it is an honor that I am chosen for this." Viktor said solemnly, sifting his fingers through the pebbled ground next to George. George looked at him curiously.

"You don't seem particularly excited about it. You don't need the money. You don't seem to want the fame or the glory. So why are you doing it?"

Viktor did not respond for several minutes and George grew fidgety, wondering if he had offended his new friend.

"You are right. I do not want those things. What I want is my father being proud of me. I do this, because these things mean much to him. I want to be a son my father can be proud of."

"I'm sure he's very proud of you— you're brilliant and talented and you've achieved so much already. How could he not be proud?"

Viktor snorted lightly at that. "He is not proud of me. I am a disappointment to my father. I am not the son he wanted me to be."

George was not sure how to respond to that. He knew that he and Fred disappointed their father from time to time and drove the poor man around the twist most days, but he also knew without a glimmer of doubt that his father loved him fiercely and was proud of him and would be no matter what.

"Who does he want you to be?" He asked, after several minutes of quiet. Viktor made a non-committal humming sound and took a while to form his response.

"My father values power. Strength. Knowledge. He is a very strong man, knows many, many things. I have learned very much from him. We disagree on what to do with some knowledge though. You know that I have studied the Dark Arts. I know that is considered very bad here—evil. But I do not think that. I am glad that I have been taught these things, that I understand. My father and I fight often about…" Viktor waved a hand about trying to illustrate his point. "lines. Where is too far. What is too dark. What ancient arts should be used for."

"Your father is a dark wizard?" George asked, voice laden with shock and a touch of wariness.

"My father is not a bad man." Viktor stated vehemently. "He is not evil. He is not… so dark. I have seen dark wizards. Bad men. My grandfather was murdered by dark wizards. My father is not these things. I do not agree with my father on many things, but my father is not a bad man. Please, you must understand me."

Viktor's words were insistent and betrayed his nerves, but he looked so serious, pleading for George to understand. So George nodded, mumbling words of agreement, and he wondered, not for the first time, why his opinion seemed to mean so much to someone like Viktor Krum.

*** ***

It took three hours to get the charms right so that the fake wand looked more or less like Viktor's. George thought it was all worth it when the Bulgarian grabbed the wand, perfectly positioned by George, and tried to do a warming spell. The rubber haddock flopped in his hand and Viktor leapt backwards in shock, cursing loudly and looking wonderfully flustered.

"What the hell was that?" Viktor groused moodily while George was nearly doubled over with laughter.

"Fake wand! Aren't they brilliant?" George watched Viktor's cheeks flush slightly in embarrassment, and he realized that his heart was beating wildly, which he told himself was most likely from laughing too hard.

"Yes. Brilliant. Stupid fish." Viktor continued to scowl and mutter Bulgarian curses under his breath, but he picked up the wand and was examining it with a sharp eye and apparent interest. "I bet it would make Poliakoff shriek like a little girl."

"Take it," George said quickly, trying not to think about why his stomach was twisting strangely. "We've got more."

*** ***

Ludo Bagman was still giving Fred and George the run around, and it was getting bloody frustrating. Fred threw the parchment onto the bed and hissed,

"This is total bollocks. He owes us!"

"Greedy tosser," agreed George bitterly. "Let's send that miserable, money-mongering wanker a box of chocolates, yeah?"

Fred caught on immediately and his eyes lit up. "Ton-tongue toffees?"

"I think that the Canary Creams are nearly ready too, but I would like to get at least one more supervised test in before we send them."

"Better make sure they're fully functional before advertising them to the Ministry," mused Fred, absently toying with a fake wand. "So, what do you think? Hapless passersby in the common room? Slytherin table in the Great Hall?"

"Actually, I've got a better target. Our little Hermione has been quite put out with all the Quidditch fan girls interfering with her precious library time. I say we send the Krum groupies a box of chocolates. They'll swoon and giggle and turn into birds. About time the library saw some decent entertainment."

Fred looked at George curiously for a moment, but he agreed readily. "Best make sure the box is nice and prettified for the ladies. What do you think? Pink and lacy?"

"Yeah, and add some hearts. I wonder if I can recreate some of that shite from Lockhart's Valentine's Day hoopla and hurl-fest." George waved his wand over the box that Fred had conjured while Fred dug out the canister of Canary Creams from the bottom of George's trunk, which they used as storage for most of their experimental products.

*** ***

George got to do the honors, levitating the gaudy pink box onto the library table where a very irritated looking Viktor Krum sat, surrounded by a gaggle of giggling groupies. The box fell to the table in a gentle explosion of pink glitter, which George considered to be a very fine touch. Viktor eyed the box with obvious suspicion, but the fan girls clearly had no such qualms. They ripped into the hideously decorated box and squealed over the fancy looking candies it contained.

Fred poked George in the arm with excitement and George grinned back at his twin. They smirked wickedly at each other over high pitched exclamations from the girls about how adorable and lovely Viktor was for getting them such a sweet gift.

The girls greedily grabbed the sweets and popped them in their mouths, making appreciative noises, which the twins filed away as successful taste testing. Nothing happened for about ten seconds and Fred began to look a little nervous. Suddenly there was a huge puff of feathers and the screaming began in earnest. Three of the girls were completely covered in yellow feathers and molting furiously, flapping their now wing like arms about in horror. The other two clutched at their mouths, trying to scream over their now enormous tongues, which were protruding from their big mouths in a truly disgusting manner.

George and Fred raised their hands simultaneously for a high five, never taking their eyes off of the experimental wonder in front of them.

The screaming and sobbing brought Madam Pince running, but she clearly had no idea how to fix the situation and so settled for yelling at the girls about inappropriate library behavior. The Canary Creams wore off after about five minutes, leaving the three girls unscathed but hysterical and a blanket of yellow feathers all over the library floor. They fled in humiliation and George considered it a successful test run.

The Ton-Tongue Toffees were taking a bit longer to wear off, even though Fred had spent quite a lot of time after the Dudley incident working on an automatic reversal charm after about five minutes. George started to worry a bit when the smaller girl started to gag, and clearly Viktor had a similar reaction.

Scowl firmly in place, Viktor stood up and waved his wand decisively at her mouth, causing her tongue to shrink up and shoot back up into place like a retracting tape measure. He performed the same spell on the other girl, before turning to scan the shelves, eyes locking onto the spot where Fred and George lay in wait. Narrowed eyes told George that Viktor would definitely have something to say about this later on, but the slight twitch of his lips reassured him that Viktor found it funny as hell, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud.

*** ***

"So, I think that those girls did not enjoy your pretty box of candies," Viktor said drily, lips quirking a bit as if he were holding off a laugh.

"I don't know about that. They seemed to like them—thought the box was pretty, enjoyed the taste, and shrieked enthusiastically at the joke aspect. I consider it a successful test run."

"Yes, success. I have had no crazy girls bother me in the library since then. So I also think it was a success."

George grinned widely, strangely thrilled that the annoying girls would be leaving Viktor alone now.

"The bird candy was good, but I think you must make some changes with the giant tongue candy."

"Ton-tongue toffee," said George easily. Viktor stared at him strangely and did not even attempt the tongue twister of a name.

"There is a charm that allows a person to breathe, even when their airway is blocked. But I think maybe you would not want to use that, because it has often been used by many dark wizards, usually during torture. Or another that limits size, so that the tongue could not grow too large. I think you might want to use this so that no one accidentally chokes. And I can show you the retraction charm I used in the library too, if you like."

George frowned, "Yeah, we certainly don't want anyone actually getting hurt from our stuff—it's only meant as a laugh."

"Good. I will show you these charms, and you will make your candy better, and then you will give some to me so that I can scare off loud girls in the library."

"It's a wonder that the perpetual scowl on your face doesn't scare them off," George mused. Viktor sighed and nodded.

"I know. I do not understand girls. Do they not understand that I want them to go away and leave me alone?"

"Well, there are some girls out there worth knowing. They aren't all insane banshees like the lot you're usually faced with."

Viktor looked unimpressed. "Yes, there are some very nice girls out there who do not scream or bother me when I read."

"Are you interested in any of them? You know, interested in any of the girls here?" George was a little shocked that he'd actually asked the question, but flashed a confident, cheeky grin when Viktor turned to look at him. Viktor assessed him for a long moment before responding.

"No, I am not interested in any of the girls here. I am not so interested in girls." Viktor seemed to be watching him carefully, and George tried to appear unfazed, but his heart was racing. Still not entirely sure that Viktor meant what George thought he meant, George settled for,

"Oh, erm, that's cool." George's ears felt slightly pink, which was really probably just the sun, and his skin felt prickly and sweaty, and the nervous twisting in his stomach was only exacerbated by Viktor's silent, intense stare. Whatever he was looking for, Viktor must have found though, because suddenly the intensity was gone, replaced by warmth and a quiet smile. That only made the twisting in George's belly even more pronounced.

*** ***

They rarely talked about specifics regarding the Triwizard tournament. It was sort of an unspoken rule between them. So George had no idea what to expect when he and Fred traipsed up into the newly erected stands to watch the first task. He knew that Harry had been locked away in the library with Hermione for the last several weeks, ostensibly researching for the task or practicing or whatever it was that he needed to do.

George was a bit irritated with his idiot younger brother for being so thick about the whole situation, but could somewhat understand the jealousy. It must be hard to live in the shadow of brothers as amazing as he and Fred, and then to be best mates with the Boy Who Lived on top of it all. Well, everyone is a bit daft at fourteen, he supposed. He and Fred had been trying to cheer Ron up by turning his hair green and making his Divination charts sing out ominous fake prophecy in an operatic soprano. The results were mixed.

George and Fred had very different reactions to seeing the four, fire-bellowing dragons on the field. Fred whistled, clearly impressed and let out a loud, "wicked!"

George, on the other hand, went silent and his stomach churned painfully. For some reason, the idea of Viktor facing down one of those fearsome creatures was disturbing him far more than it should. He mentally reminded himself that Viktor was up to the task; otherwise the Goblet of Fire would never have chosen him. George smiled at Fred, but a bit weaker than usual. Fred didn't seem to notice, as he was too distracted by the Chinese Fireball emitting a huge burst of flame and setting one of the handlers on fire. George noticed Charlie quickly dousing the handler with a powerful blast of Aguamenti.

By the time Viktor appeared to face down the Chinese Fireball, George was on the edge of his seat. So was Fred, but for an entirely different reason.

"Krum's a bit funny looking on ground, isn't he? I hope he's as quick on his feet as he is in the air, or this could go pear-shaped in a hurry!" Fred enthused, oblivious to George's half-hearted nods and grunts.

The Fireball let out a piercing shriek, which made everyone in the audience flinch. George figured that Viktor would use a charm of some sort, because that seemed to be his strength, and he was soon proven right when Viktor slowly approached the dragon, moving silently, wand outstretched. When he moved, it was fast as lightning and George almost missed it, the yellow light of the curse shooting straight into the dragon's eyes. The scream she emitted made her earlier shriek sound like a whimper.

The Fireball writhed in agony, blinded and furious. She trampled about the nest in an anguished rage, stomping on her own eggs in the process. Viktor shot forward, showing that, however awkward and ungainly he appeared, he was still a powerful athlete, quick, nimble, and graceful. Even with his speed and agility, he only just barely managed to grab the golden egg and dive out of the way of the Fireball's enormous stomping foot and wicked claws.

Viktor was led away by a puffed up Karkaroff and fussed over by Madam Pomfrey, who could not seem to find much of anything wrong with him, but insisted on checking him over in spite of that.

George sat in the stands, white-knuckled fingers clenching the railing, and listened to Fred rhapsodize about Krum's brilliant moves. He barely managed to nod in response. That had been the scariest, sexiest thing he had ever seen in his life. The images of Viktor darting between the massive dragon's legs, the deft movements, the powerful grace… His heart pounded, pumping adrenaline and arousal through his system. Wicked, indeed.

*** ***

Gryffindor was in an uproar after Harry's spectacular bout of flying against the Horntail, but George was only partially swept up in the frenzy. He and Fred ducked down to the kitchens to score food for the party that was sure to be raging in the common room all night. He joked with the house elves and helped himself to a couple extra jam tarts. He and Fred jovially hoisted Harry into the air and were nearly deafened for their efforts by that blasted shrieking egg. He snuck Canary Creams onto the cream tarts platter and charmed Dean Thomas' banner so the drawings moved. But despite his outward Gryffindor pride and typical Weasley twin enthusiasm, his thoughts were decidedly elsewhere.

Viktor Krum was messing with his head and it needed to stop. George was not entirely sure what was happening, what he was thinking, what he was feeling. What he was sure of, though, was this: He had to see Viktor—and soon. That, however, was going to require a plan, one more sneaky and stealthy than usual.

Luckily there was nothing that motivated George Weasley more than devising a secret, brilliant, adventure-laden, rule-demolishing, death-defying, Howler-inspiring, adrenaline-pumping scheme. All right, death-defying might be a stretch, but one never knew what one might encounter on a late-night dash through Hogwarts grounds. There might be dragons or Snape or a really hacked off escapee from Hagrid's unorthodox menagerie.

So while he laughed at Lee's bad jokes and helped Fred drape a large Gryffindor flag around Harry's shoulders, he started planning.

*** ***

After the party died down enough to skive off without much notice, George spent an hour alone in the dorm (Fred had snuck off, as usual, with Angelina, and Lee was giving a play by play review of Harry's performance) charming a bit of parchment, using several spells he had gleaned from the Marauder's Map. His skills unfortunately were not quite up to par with the illustrious Marauders, but the voice-activated response charm was solid enough, and a few adjustments of his own made it quite satisfactory (and far more discreet than anything Fred could have conjured, if he did say so himself.)

He folded the parchment into an aeroplane and sent it flying out the window towards the Durmstrang ship. He hoped that Viktor would decipher the message and show up behind the pumpkins at Hagrid's, a spot where they had met several times before.

He wasn't entirely sure what he planned to do if Viktor did show up, but he was starting to get a pretty good idea. Watching Viktor almost kill himself dodging that dragon had made it quite plain to George that this friendship (or whatever the hell it was) that they had going on was something much different than anything he had ever experienced before. And that realization was more than a little shocking to him.

Realizing that he had no desire to snog girls, even though Fred clearly did, was one thing. Realizing that he wanted to snog a boy was something entirely different. And quite scary, actually. He couldn't like blokes, after all, because Fred didn't. Fred liked girls and George and Fred were supposed to be the same. The idea that he and Fred could be so fundamentally different on something like this was more terrifying than anything else. Because, the truth was, George didn't want to be different than Fred. He quite liked that they were the same and this whole concept of growing up and turning into his own person was horrible and scary and not on at all.

He was scared shiteless, but he was still George Weasley. He laughed in the face of fear—it was how he worked. And underneath all his worry and fear and panicked musing, one thing was very clear. One desire was beginning to overpower every other disjointed thought in his head. That was the extremely strong urge to shove Viktor Krum up against a wall and kiss him so thoroughly that the ubiquitous glower disappeared and the strong, stoic, scowling seeker melted beneath him and kissed him back so intensely that George forgot every crazy worry that ran through his head.

He watched the parchment aeroplane float lazily through the air down towards the lake and wondered whether his strong attachment to staying completely identical to Fred in every way or his libido would come out on top in the end.

Part 2