The Night Visitor

This is the sequel to "Tonight" and as it stands, I am not considering any further continuance of this story line. I was unsure of a sequel until the reviews started coming, and I realized that I just couldn't leave it like that. So, here it is, and it's dedicated to everyone who felt there should be more for our boys. Enjoy.

Inspired by: "The Night Visitor's Song" by The Empty Hats.

Warnings: M/M relations, incest, slight DH spolier.

If any of the warnings above may offend you or your beliefs, please do not read any further than this. You have been warned.

I thought I could hear people speaking around me. Their voices sounded familiar; perhaps they were family. Hands were on me, though they seemed unreal, like shadows in this dark. I felt so scared.

Fred... I need you...

The Weasleys watched as Molly stripped George of his wet clothes, near tears as she rubbed his motionless, pale body with a towel. Their fear mirrored from one face to another, all around the room. George's lips were blue from the cold. His forehead burned with fever. They were all afraid of losing another member of the family. Percy clutched George's freezing hand within his own, only letting go when their joined hands inhibited Molly from dressing the feverish boy in the warmest pajamas he owned.

She tucked him into his bed, throwing extra blankets over him. Fleur brought up warm broth with a tonic in it from the kitchen. Molly very carefully spooned some of the nourishing liquid between George's unresisting lips, waiting patiently for him to swallow. After three or four spoonfuls, George began to cough violently, shaking with cold. She put the bowl aside and sat in silence, watching her son carefully. They all crossed their fingers, waiting for George to come around.

The silence stretched on. George barely moved.

Finally Arthur cleared his throat, bringing the attention of the family to him. "Let's let him rest. He'll come out of it when he's ready. I think he's still in shock over Fred. Mum will check on him during the night. Back to bed, everyone."

Percy watched as everyone filed slowly from the room, George's hand still clutched within his own. Arthur nodded silently to him and left, leaving the two brothers alone in the room together.

"George," Percy whispered almost inaudibly. "George, don't die... I can't stand to lose another brother..."

George did not stir. Sighing, feeling completely helpless, Percy left as well.

----

Fred looked out at the storm before him. Very peacefully he had been resting, here in this magnificent place of calm skies and total peace. This was surely Heaven. How long he had been here, he couldn't tell. Minutes or years, it didn't matter. He was at peace.

He knew his family missed him. Their grief touched him every now and then. Yes, they mourned him. But he knew he would see them again one day, here in this place. He could wait. He had time.

Then suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his heart. It caused him to cry out. Nothing like this had happened before. There had never been pain before. The pain pulsed again.

"George..."

His twin's name had slipped unbidden from his lips, but as soon as it had passed, he knew that there was something wrong. George was in pain. George was hurting.

Even as infants, they had always shared a special bond. When one hurt, the other hurt. When one cried, the other cried. When one laughed, the other laughed, and so on and so forth.

"Fred... I need you..."

The voice had seemed as if it came from across an ocean. It had felt as if it was a lover's caress on his ear. He could hear it all around him, in him, through him. George needed him.

The storm clouds had rolled in on the back of that whisper. This was also something new. Never had there been even the barest hint of grey in the skies here. The wind, which had always been teasing and light, now gusted past him with a will. Something wet touched his hand. Rain. Never had there been rain before.

George needed him.

Looking at the tempest that was rolling in, he knew he had to see George. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to do it, but he had to get to his twin.

He set off into the darkness, wishing the star that guided him here would help guide him home. Unfortunately, the blackness brought on by the storm afforded no light whatsoever. He would have to make this journey through the wind and the rain on instinct alone.

Thinking of only getting to his twin, he walked.

--

I slowly became aware of my surroundings. I was in my room at the Burrow, tucked thoroughly into bed, the rain pounding against my window in a wrathful torrent. Slowly, I remembered the storm. I remembered being in the rain, Percy holding me, drifting off to that beautiful place. I remembered the stars and feeling Fred in them. I remembered sinking.

A knock on my closed door brought me out of my thoughts. I turned my face towards it and called, "Who is it?"

For a moment there was merely silence beyond the door. I began to wonder if I had imagined someone knocking.

"Georgie, open up..."

--

Fred knocked on the door to his old room, silently amazed that he was once again standing in his family's home. Knocking had seemed the best route. His appearance here alone would be enough to shock his twin. He would announce himself this way, and perhaps lessen the impact of his visit tonight.

Finally the silence on the other side of the door was broken by George's tired and small voice.

"Who is it?"

Fred's voice seemed frozen in his throat. He had no thoughts of backing out and leaving, not when George needed him so badly. But how would George react to his twin, who was dead? Who had come back for this night to comfort him and lessen the loss they both shared, because, yes, now that Fred was back here on this plane, he felt that loss? It burned in his chest and would have staggered him if he hadn't been able to feel George's pain so fiercely.

He found his voice and called to his twin. "Georgie, open up..."

For what seemed like an eternity, George was silent in the room. Then he could hear his brother padding towards the door, could feel the anticipation radiating off him, could feel the doubt and the despair.

George opened the door and looked at him in silence for a moment. Fred knew he doubted his own eyes. He knew what a shock this must be and waited for his brother to make the first move.

"Freddy..."

"Yeah."

"But you're..." George couldn't even finish his sentence.

"Yeah." He smiled a little. "I came back. You need me."

George immediately fell into his arms, silent tears making their tracks down his face. Clutching his twin tightly to his wet body, Fred let the feelings wash over him. He knew now how much he had missed George and knew that George had missed him so much more. Life could be cruel sometimes. How could anyone expect one of them to continue on without the other? They had been glued to one another since birth.

George would survive, though. Everyone thought Fred the dominant twin, the stronger one. No one but Fred knew of the strength George hid under his quiet demeanor. Yes, George would survive. George would carry on. All he needed was comfort and closure.

"You're soaked," George said, pulling back to gaze at his twin in wonder. "Will you... will you catch cold?"

Fred shook his head. "I don't think so."

Taking his hand, George led Fred into the room, closing and locking the door behind him. He highly doubted anyone would come, but he couldn't risk it. Selfish as it was, he wanted Fred completely to himself right then. He would die without his brother.

Silently, together, they slowly stripped Fred's wet clothes off. It caused George a moment of pain to notice that he was wearing the same clothes as the day he died. This fact was strangely comforting. They had buried Fred in a handsome set of dress robes, bought especially for the occasion. These clothes were Fred's. The jeans were torn at the knee; the shirt had a stain on one sleeve from an explosion caused by one of their experiments. His trainers were worn and dirty. Every little detail was something familiar to George.

Fred stood before his twin, naked and slightly shivering. George smiled at him. Fred's body looked so much like his own, with only slight differences. Fred had a little more muscle to his form and right above his left hip was a mole that George didn't share. Shyly, George chanced a glance lower to where Fred's member rested on a mat of ginger hair. He could tell that Fred was a little longer than he was, but George was thicker. Blush fluttered across his cheeks. He hadn't seen Fred naked since they stopped bathing together at age nine.

"Come here, Georgie," Fred whispered, holding his hand out.

George went to his brother, threading their fingers together and smiling as Fred squeezed his hands. They were nose to nose. George couldn't resist the temptation presented before him. Closing his eyes, he brushed the tip of his nose against Fred's.

He heard Fred catch his breath softly. Spurred on by his brother's silent encouragement, he moved closer, continuing his gentle worship. Fred began moving his nose against George's and as his heart skipped a beat, George pressed his lips against his brother's.

Neither of them moved for a moment. As close as they had been their entire lives, this line had never been crossed. They hadn't dared. George knew a moment of panic when Fred continued to stand perfectly still. He had made a mistake, he knew he had. Fred would leave and never come back and George would positively die if he couldn't have this, if he incurred his brother's disgust.

Then Fred's hands came to rest on either side of his face, holding him still as he increased the pressure of the kiss. George nearly melted. When Fred's tongue brushed against his lips, George opened them to him without a second's hesitation.

With a tenderness that touched George deeper than just his heart, Fred ran his tongue along his brother's, over the roof of his mouth, along the backs of his teeth and across the tops of his molars. George moaned under these loving ministrations. The noise echoed from one mouth to the other, resounding through both of them in a call-and-answer fashion.

The backs of George's legs hit something slightly soft and he realized that it must be the bed. He wasn't sure when Fred had started maneuvering them backwards, but careful not to break the kiss, he began lowering himself down onto the bed. His arms seemed to have a mind of their own as they clutched Fred to him. He was holding his very life in his arms and he couldn't stand the thought of losing Fred, not yet.

The two brothers stretched out on George's bed, lying on their sides next to each other, hands still clutched, their mouths fused together. Even this wasn't close enough for George. He threw his leg over Fred's hips, using it to pull his brother in closer. Deep down, he knew he had always wanted this. He had always needed this closeness with his brother. It was the only thing that seemed real and right in the world. The pity that tugged at his heartstrings was the fact that it had taken Fred's death for George to realize this. He wasn't sure what he had done to deserve this second chance, but he wasn't planning on wasting it because of his fear and nervousness.

Fred arched as George's heel dug into the small of his back. He nestled himself between George's legs, feeling his brother's desperation in his touches and kisses. It bordered on panic and though Fred wanted to calm him down, wanted to take things slow, it touched something within himself and he actually felt a small part of that. This would be the last time they would see one another on this plane. They would never touch again, never look one another in the eye. Never kiss...

Tenderness seemed to be lost on them for the moment. The two boys rolled around on the bed, nearly attacking one another in their passion. Desperation fueled the frenzy between them. Never again would they have this chance, not in this time and place. One day George would follow Fred to that place of paradise, but it was uncertain when that time would be. Until then, this was all they had.

Fred's hands were at the neck of his twin's pajama shirt. The fabric ripped, buttons flew, George's chest was bared to Fred's eyes and mouth and hands. He moaned as Fred nipped at the pebbles of his nipples. He burned when his brother ran his nails down his sides. His breath caught as Fred's tongue dipped into his belly button. His fingers grasped in Fred's hair and pulled his face up, holding it still while he attacked his mouth.

Quickly as it had come on, the frenzy left them, sweeping out like the tide from a beach, leaving them panting, holding tight to one another, cuddling close. Every inch of their skin meshed wherever possible. George felt that even if he could crawl into his brother it still wouldn't be close enough.

As one, reading each other's feelings and desires, they rolled once more on the bed, Fred lying atop his twin, still clutched between George's strong thighs. Neither was sure when it happened, but now George was naked as well. Their movement had caused Fred's throbbing member to brush against the little pink hole there. A moan passed from one set of lips, echoing off the other, and seemed to multiply as Fred repeated his action, ran spit-coated fingers across it, and finally pressing the ruby head past the tight ring of muscle, his entrance eased by hand lotion that had been retrieved from the bedside table.

George arched, pressing his head back against the pillow, swearing at the ceiling, calling out his obvious delight at these actions. There was pain, oh yes, but the pain drove home the reality, made it more concrete, made it more pleasurable because George knew this was real, not just some fevered dream that would slip, liquid-like, through his fingers when the first rays of dawn found him alone in his bed.

Finally, Fred was all the way in, filling his brother completely, listening to the whispered swears and words of pleasure that passed from the kiss-swollen lips of the beautiful creature beneath him. He threaded fingers with George again, pulling their hands over their heads, resting on the pillow, and using them to hold him up, he began to pump his hips. Slowly, slowly, so slowly. There must be time for George to adjust, for his body to accept this loving intrusion, and, sweet Merlin, Fred didn't think he could hold out much longer if the velvet glove around him kept clenching as warmly as it was.

Their breathing began to quicken, and now George was rolling his hips down against Fred's, their movements catching in time with their moans and groans. Love words that made no sense passed between them, and the hell with sense, anyway. Everything that passed from one was absorbed by the other and echoed back to him, complete understanding written on their faces.

This was a dance between the two of them. Fred led, George made the next move, and so on. Each step was perfect, executed with a precision no other set of souls could hope to achieve. These flawless moves had been etched into their minds, hovering at the back, before either could remember. It had been written just for them, and they knew every step.

George was swearing at the ceiling again, his voice a guttural growl, spurring Fred on faster, harder, stronger, more and more. He was coming close to the edge of oblivion, spewing sweet filth against his twin's neck. His fingers clung harder to the warm, sweaty ones holding his. He threw his hips up one last time, and here it was, the big finish. There was a tightening at the base of his spine, then fireworks seemed to explode behind his eyes.

This was his first flight on a broomstick, this was chocolate-chip cookies straight out of the oven, this was a lover's caressing voice against his ear; it was birds in the springtime and winning the Quidditch cup and presents from Father Christmas and playing in the snow and Exploding Snap indoors on cold days and hot chocolate mustaches and buying their own shop and bubble baths.

He felt Fred come along with him and he broke their connected hands, choosing instead to hold his shaking brother against his heart, and he knew the beauty of the moment hadn't escaped Fred.

Letting their breathing slow and return to normal, they laid just that way. Kisses were rained on each other, hands touched and soothed, any contact to keep them just that way: one.

Time seeped into their consciousness as the sky outside began to lighten ever-so-slightly. The long night was finally turning to day, and with the sun would come Fred's departure. It remained unspoken between them, but both knew.

Somewhere from the yard a rooster called it's greeting to the rising sun. Loathe to break the moment, they laid joined there for as long as was permitted. Unrelentingly, the sun continued to rise, starting to splay out on the floor towards them and George stared out the window at the magnificence of the dawning, thinking how like Fred's hair it was. Flaming and bright as it brushed in soft waves against his face. He knew he would never be able to look at a sunrise again without thinking of this moment. That thought comforted him.

Sleep was tugging at his eyes. Though he tried to fight, George knew it was a losing battle. Fred kissed each of his eyelids as they slid closed and before they did, George drunk in his brother's appearance just this way, vowing to keep the memory close to his heart so long as he lived. He smiled at the slight pressure of lips against his. The sleep he drifted into was the most peaceful he could ever remember having and he let the arms of Hypnos embrace him.

Fred would be gone when he awoke. He knew that. However, rather than sadden him, George fell asleep with a smile on his face. His brother had comforted him more deeply than he had ever imagined was possible. No longer did he have anything to worry about. One day... Yes, one day, he would be with Fred again. Until that beautiful time, he would cherish this visit on a dark and stormy night.