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[personal profile] the_hoard
Title: Boodwaggles
Rating: Hard R
Featured Character or Pairing(s): Fred/George, Percy
Summary: George and Percy are plagued by Boodwaggles
Warnings: Incest, Slash, Underaged sex, Canon compliant through Deathly Hallows (except for the slash, of course), Post-War
Word Count: 2,634
Disclaimer: This is not an attempt to infringe on the copyrights held by the Corporations or Individuals that are part of Harry Potter. This is purely for enjoyment and no monetary gain is made from it..
Author's notes: Originally written for [livejournal.com profile] weasley_fest as a gift for [livejournal.com profile] araindog. I must heap oodles of thanks upon my betas. They are awesome individuals and writers and each gave me excellent feedback that I ate up and applied. [personal profile] eeyore9990 & [livejournal.com profile] svartalfur, you rock my world. Any mistakes herein are solely mine own. Pass the tissues.



They were spooned together in the most intimate way. The hand that had been teasing George's left nipple slid smoothly down his abdomen to take hold of his hip. He felt a shift behind him and with the next thrust the angle had changed. A pulse of electricity and desire coursed through him, causing him to moan.

"Shh…" came the soft reply, followed by another thrust and yet another moan. Fred chuckled and whispered, "Bite your pillow," then nipped his brother on the shoulder.

George obeyed. He clutched his pillow and bit into it as he shut his eyes to focus on the exquisite slide of Fred's cock in his arse. He loved this so much. Loved Fred so much.

George moaned and moved his arm to hold the lovely body behind him. His arm swept at empty night air and landed on the cold sheets. The realisation washed over him like a well aimed Ice Dousing jinx. There was no one there. There would be no more nights of quiet lovemaking.

The emptiness in his chest grew. The ache, he now knew too well, returned and roared to life. It wouldn’t be long before he was overtaken by uncontrollable sobbing until he passed out due to exhaustion from his body being wracked mercilessly. George curled up and waited for it as he usually did, letting the oppressive silence close in on him in the dark, lonely bedroom.


“G’morning, George!” chirped Ron, assisting a patron.

“Why?” George grumbled as he swept past Ron, through to the back and up the stairs to what once, ever so briefly, had been the apartment he shared with Fred above the shop. It had since been converted to an office and development laboratory.

“Good morning, Mr. Weasley,” came the usual breezy greeting that met him upon entering the laboratory.

“Good morning, Luna.”

His new Creative Developer glanced up from her work. “Oh my, it looks like you have another infestation of Boodwaggles; the circles are back.”

“I doubt it, Luna, since there is no such thing as a creature that enjoys nestling in the sockets of our eyes while we sleep.”

“But you have the residual rings! It must be an infestation because you’ve told me, time and again, that you are fine. So what else could it be?” Luna continued her experimentation.

George stared at her as she worked for a moment. “You’re right, Luna, it must be Boodwaggles.” He never could understand how her mind worked, but sometimes George saw true compassion. The genius was plainly evident. There were times when he felt real regret for some of the tricks he and Fred played on her at Hogwarts. Fred. George shivered.

“Are you all right, Mr. Weasley?” She watched him from her workbench.

“Yes, thank you, Luna – please call me George, won’t you? – one of those Boodwaggles must have followed me to work.”

“They are so pesky. Here.” Luna offered George a purple sweet. “This might shoo it away. Ready?” She raised another of the same sweet to her mouth and smiled. George nodded and they popped the sweets in their mouths together.

As soon as they swallowed the tangy tart confection, an odd screech was wrenched from their throats and they were made wide-eyed. They burst into fits of laughter once they saw each other. Both had saucer-round eyes and the hair on their heads stood completely on end.

“It’s brilliant, Luna! How long does it last?”

“That depends on you, sir. This should only last another thirty seconds or so, but we can make it last up to an hour before the sweets become too large to be bite-sized.”

“Excellent. What do you call them?”

“I was thinking, Hair'em Scare’em Bites.”

George smiled at his unlikely employee. “Well done, Luna. And thanks. I mean that sincerely.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Weasley.”

“George. Keep up the good work. If you need me, I’ll be at my desk.”

“Yes, sir, thank you. I do have a message for you, Mr. Weasley.”

“Oh?”

“Your brother, Percy, Firecalled just before you arrived.”

“Did he say what he wanted?”

“He wanted to know if you’d be attending the Weasley family meal at The Burrow this week.”

George groaned. He really loathed the weekly mandatory Weasley meals now. “Did he say anything else?”

“No, sir.”

“Thank you, Luna.”

“Funny thing, though.”

“What’s that?”

“It looked like he had a Boodwaggle infestation too.”



Merlin, why did he keep showing up? Probably because he knew his mum’s harassment and ire would be worse. He couldn’t stand it. These damn dinners were supposed to strengthen the family ties and bring everyone closer together so that they might share their loss and thus build upon the family bond or some such bollocks, Arthur had explained. Except all they did was magnify the estrangement growing between them. Each week the strained smiles seemed to grow wider and wider and none were so wide as when they approached him – ‘Oh, hello, George!’ ‘Business going well?’ ‘The way you wear your hair, I can’t notice a thing!’ ‘Why was it you chose not to re-grow one?’ – and so on. Except Percy. No, Percy never said anything. He always just stared. Stared with an odd expression; no doubt, gaping at the freak that George now was. The prat. Who knew? Maybe the idiot felt guilty? Maybe there was something he could have done to save Fred? Maybe if he’d been there instead…

George had that suffocating feeling again. He was being smothered, and the oxygen was being sucked from the room and no one else noticed. His chest tightened and there was a pounding in his ears. He had to leave. He looked around at his family who were all gathered in the living room chatting about the humdrum of their daily lives, trying desperately to pretend that life was the same as it ever was. As if life without Fred could ever be the same as it was before he died. As if they could ever be as happy. How dare they! Luckily, for him, they were pretending not to notice his distress. Good. He walked out of The Burrow.

George wandered out behind The Burrow to the meadow where he and Fred spent endless hours together as children. It was where they’d found each other. George wrapped his arms around himself as he indulged in one of his most treasured memories. That empty field provided them with the privacy they cherished. The privacy to fully explore the depths of their love for one another.

Their father had been so proud of them. He adored how they would camp in the meadow in a Muggle tent. It tickled him to no end that his sons so enjoyed a Muggle activity. The twins enjoyed the Muggle tent because they knew none of their siblings would want to join them. They would be left alone.

George closed his eyes and gave himself over to the memory.

“It’s so cold, Fred.” George shivered uncontrollably. “Budge over; let me share your blankets.”

Fred made room for his twin. “Dad must be a nutter, the way he loves this Muggle stuff so much.” He wrapped his arms around George, rubbing his arms to make warmth.

It felt good. George nestled further, getting comfortable. He could feel Fred’s warm breath on his face. It was nice.

“Do you want to go back inside?”

George shook his head into his brother’s body. “’M fine. ‘Snice.”

“Yeah, we’re all right.”

Fred’s stroking moved up George’s arms and eventually down his back. Long, languid strokes down and back up again. Every stroke left a little trail of tingles that made him feel warmth down low. He liked it very much. George had never felt so safe and warm as he did right then.

Feeling a bit selfish for enjoying such a thing alone, George raised an arm and ghosted his hand across the side of Fred’s face. His ear felt cold to touch, so George began to touch it with his fingertips. Gently, so as not to hurt Fred, he ran his fingers along the ear’s outer ridge, down to the ear lobe, swirled around it and dipped slightly to skim the inner ridges. He tried to get to every bit that was cool to his touch.

As he touched the ear, Fred’s head tilted in response. He was like a purring cat and the sounds he made were much like that as well.

It was such a peculiarly pleasing feeling to discover he could make his brother make such sounds. He wanted Fred to feel the same satisfaction so he arched his back into Fred’s touch and mewled softly. He felt his brother’s hand still briefly and then recommence its strokes covering an even larger area this time.
George decided he’d broaden his exploration as well and began to run his hand down across the jaw-line, down Fred’s throat and back up to his ear again. George felt Fred’s breathing get heavier and the sounds turned into little moans. Fred’s hand responded by lifting the back of George’s pyjama top to stroke the skin directly. The tingles became more intense and George couldn’t help it when he felt his pyjama bottoms become snug. George didn’t know why, but he had to press his front against something. He shifted his body and rubbed his front against Fred.

Fred responded, “Heeey, what’s that?” He pushed George away just enough to swipe a hand across George’s groin. When Fred’s hand bumped against George’s swollen privates, George gasped. It felt good.

After bumping the erection, Fred pulled the pyjama bottoms down to expose it. “Oh, you have a cock!” Fred’s eyes were wide and excited. “That’s what it’s called, Charlie told me. He showed me what to do with it. Watch!”

Fred grabbed a firm hold of George’s cock and started stroking, presumably just as their brother had shown him.

George had no idea what was happening. He had no idea something could feel so good. With every stroke, George watched his brother’s face, his tongue peeking out in concentration, and saw more and more that he wanted to do this for him.

Pressure had built up and then he suddenly squeezed his eyes shut and was arching up off the bedding and thrusting into Fred’s hand. He was making sounds involuntarily and his mind was reeling. George was then hit by a wave of exhaustion and he gasped for air. Good Magnificent Merlin, that was amazing.

George opened his eyes to find Fred watching him with a look of wonder and… what? What was that other thing he saw in his brother’s expression? He’d never seen it before.

“Look, George! I have one too.” Fred hurriedly revealed his adolescent erection for George. “It’s the same as yours!”

George didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so amazing. Before he knew it, his hands reached for Fred’s cock and he was rubbing it. He rubbed as Fred had done for him.

A whole new world had opened up to him and things would never be the same.

George touched and touched until his brother’s body shuddered and collapsed. They held each other that night, and every night after.

“George? Are you all right?”

George was startled out of his daydream. He turned to see Percy had found him.

“Here.”

Percy’s outstretched hand held a handkerchief. George blinked dumbly.

“What’s that for?”

“Your face.”

George raised his hand to his face to find his cheeks were tear-streaked.

“Oh, ta.” George took the offered cloth and wiped his face. “Did Mum send you to find me?” George turned from Percy to face the direction from where the breeze was coming. The cool air felt good on his heated face.

“No.” Percy walked up and stood beside George, facing the breeze as well. “She’s too busy pretending we’re one big perfect family, happy as ever.”

Several silent moments passed.

“But we were never happy, were we?” Percy shrugged.

What the fuck was Percy going on about? “No, I guess not.” George held out the handkerchief. “Thanks, mate. You don’t have to stay out here anymore.”

Percy took the cloth but he didn't leave. “You used to go camping here. I never understood how you two could stand to camp the Muggle way.”

George let escape a sob that he hoped he’d adequately covered up as a snort. “To get away from you.”

“Me?”

“Everyone.”

“Oh.”

’Oh?’ George was becoming irritated. “What do you want, Percy?”

There was a long, drawn out silence that nearly had George screaming at Percy to go the fuck away but Percy finally spoke. “I’m sorry. George, I’m so sorry.”

George spun to face Percy. “You’re what?”

“I keep going over it again and again in my mind…”

“Going over what, Percy?”

When Percy spoke, his voice quivered. “What happened. I can’t make it work out. I keep thinking that maybe if I’d stood over to the left more, he wouldn’t have been standing right there just then, I could have shielded him, or if I’d turned, I might have seen and I could have pushed him out of the way.”

His eyes pleaded with George. For what? George was incensed.

“Why, Percy? Why you? Why were you there and not me? Tell me that! Why him and not you?” George rounded on Percy and unleashed what he’d held deep in the tightness of his chest. “Why? You had just come back. You were a prat; you didn’t deserve to be saved! HE didn’t deserve to die! WHY NOT YOU?!!” There were no tears now.

“I don’t know! I have asked myself the same thing! George, please, George, I don’t know. Everyday I think about it. All night, every night. Every bloody night, and I can’t figure it out! I don’t know why it wasn’t me. Gods, George, I know, it should have been me! Gods, it should have been ME!!! I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. So so sorry, George. Gods, I’m so sorry, George. Please, George, I’m so sorry. Please… Oh gods, please…” Percy’s voice wavered and cracked. He could no longer speak through the tears. He fell to his hands and knees and heaved.

George watched, stunned, as Percy sobbed and heaved uncontrollably. He had had no idea. Gods, poor Percy.

George knelt beside his brother and wrapped an arm around him. He turned to lift him off all fours but, Percy trembled so much, he was difficult to raise.

“Percy. Perce, c’mon, up now. C’mon, right here. Right up against my chest. That’s it.” George had managed to get Percy leaned up against him so he could hold him. “Sh, sh, sh… it’s all right. Oh, Percy.” George gently rocked his brother until the sobs calmed down.

He nudged Percy to lift his head so he could see his face and wipe the hair from his eyes. Oh. When had Percy let his hair grow long? George wiped the tears with his hand, adjusted his spectacles, and looked at his brother’s face. “Boodwaggles.”

Percy blinked.

“We’re both infested.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“I’m so sorry, George.”

“So am I, Percy.”

“It should have been me.”

“No. Don’t. Don’t you ever say that.”

“But…”

“No, Percy. It shouldn’t have been anyone. No one. Ever.”

“No one understands.”

“No, they don’t.”

“They think things can be normal again.”

“They’re wrong.”

The brothers remained huddled together in the tall grass.

“They think it should have been me, too.”

George shivered because he knew that if he’d had to choose…

“Fuck them.”

“I think it should have been me.”

“Fuck you too.”

“You don’t mean it.”

“Fuck you twice.”

“Thanks.” Percy looked up at the greying sky. “Do you think it will rain?”

“I hope so.”

The two brothers held each other tighter.



fin

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