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Fred and George lay side by side under Ron's bed, foreheads touching as they talk.
"Do you remember the first time?" Fred asks, his words barely more than a breath of air. George smiles at him in the darkness.
"Ron shrieked like a banshee — "
" — wet his pants — "
" — and slept with Mum and Dad for two weeks!"
Fred bit his hand and shook with silent laughter.
"They were so fast — "
"They must have Apparated up the stairs."
"I've never laughed so hard in my life."
"Even when Dad started in on us."
"You screamed so loud."
"You were louder."
"Was not!"
"Are now." Fred grins slyly. George bites his lower lip and looks at Fred darkly from under his lashes. Fred's heart skips a beat.

The heavy door creaks open and knitted socks identical to theirs pad toward them. Ron turns down his blankets, toes wiggling under the bed, and George runs his fingertips along the stray strands of Ron's grey socks, grinning wickedly at his brother.

Fred mouths one, two, three and an oh-so-sweet blood-chilling shriek rips through the air: crackling, electrifying and they feel so alive and the only thing gratingly wrong is that they haven't touched Ron.

_______________________

Ron bolts to Harry's bed. Harry sits ramrod straight, shaking violently, eyes wide and unseeing. Not even Aragog frightened Ron so much. He's suddenly afraid to move.

"Harry?" he whispers.

Harry holds his knees tight against his chest. The bed creaks a little as he rocks.

"I tried, once, to lock my door," he whispers, "but ... it was worse that night." Harry doesn't look at Ron. His frightened eyes race about the room, searching each shadow over and over as though his nightmare might still be waiting in the darkness.

Fred and George look at each other, eyes wide with disbelief, delight, hunger. George bites his lip and Fred smiles wickedly. If they weren't underneath Ron's bed, George would be naked as fast as Fred could find his wand.

Harry's breath is quick as the words spill out.

"He's already ... ready and he holds me into my pillow so no one else can hear me scream and sometimes he holds me so long that I'm alone when I wake up, but it's ... I'm ... everything's wet and she'll scream at me for washing my sheets again this week and he'll backhand me but I can smell it, smell him and I run to the bathroom and throw up and least it wasn't my mouth this time." The tears stream down his face and his glass voice fractures, gasping as the words rush from him faster than he can speak them, words crashing, colliding together into a wordless, wailing, gasping sob.

George whimpers, his eyes unfocused, and Fred presses close to him, his breath coming quick. George licks slowly, wetly up Fred's palm and Fred does the same, twin hands moving together against identical cocks, hands slipping, sliding, quick strokes perfectly mirrored; drowning, floating in Harry's heartbroken sobbing.

"He throws me on the ground and I think my knee is broken and he shoves me up against the bed and I can't breathe and he doesn't care and he shoves down my throat again and again and I'm gagging and blackness is swallowing me and he pulls out for a just a second just before I pass out and I wish he hadn't so I wouldn't be there for the rest of it — " his voice is strangled and panicked and he is rocking so hard that Ron has a sickening soundtrack for the awful, horrible things he is hearing — "and it's bitter and sour and I throw up on the floor but I haven't eaten so at least nothing else comes up" — he laughs brokenly — "and I clean it up because if it's there in the morning he'll beat me, they'll beat me again — " and Harry gives in to desperate, shrieking sobs and Ron is so sick and heartbroken that tears are sliding down his face and he feels so guilty because he only has to hear it and Harry had to live it.

When Harry starts to scream, George's hand tightens unexpectedly, his taut body tensing with the sound. "Wait," Fred whispers, breath quick, eyes hot with desire. George pauses for a moment, loving the feel of Fred's smooth hardness in his hand, wanting him so badly, wanting to last just as long as Harry can cry. Fred smiles wickedly at him, and his softstrong hand knows just the right places, just the right speed and George's breath catches. "Wait — "

"Dear god please no stop why help me leave me alone please leave me alone it hurts so bad why won't he stop please I can't do it anymore..." and Harry's broken, excruciating, exquisite begging pushes them over the edge and Fred covers George's mouth with his own, swallowing the sound as they come together.