Isolation.

Summary: Fred's alone. In the dark.

Fred watched the rise and fall of his twin brother's chest as he slept. He sighed and got up, pulling on a pair of socks and padding down to the common room. He curled up in an armchair in front of the still alight fire. It was midnight and the castle was quiet apart from the roar of the fire, and the occasional yowl from Mrs Norris, the bane of the twins' life.

Fred couldn't sleep.

He'd been an insomniac for as long as he could remember. His brother was not. George fell asleep everywhere. In class, at dinner, during quidditch practice, sometimes even in bed. Fred was always left awake. He had never quite managed to figure out where all his energy come from. He obviously had plenty, but considering that he never slept for more than two hours a night, he sometimes wondered how. Even though George had explained the priciples of being a wizard and therefore having special abilities to him many times before.

Tonight, however, insomnia wasn't the problem. In fact, if a million thoughts weren't rushing around his head, all vying for his full attention at the same time, he felt sure that he might have actually got the first full night of sleep in his entire life. And probably would have been lacking any energy at all when he got up, he rationalized. He knew that in a moment, George would notice that his twin was gone and come looking for him, complaining loudly and profusly about his interrupted sleep, interrupting everyone else's sleep. And Fred would point out to him that he didn't have to come down, Fred hadn't actually made him do anything, sending George back up to the dormitary, grumbling, the rest of the Gryffindors following him, equally annoyed.

This time, however, was different.

George did come down the stairs, his bare feet treading softly on the common room carpet, approaching Fred without a sound. Yet the young, freckle faced, red-headed boy knew his twin was there, and swung round in the chair before George could reach him.

" Hey." He said softly.

Instead of loudly complaining about Fred's lack of sleep, George pulled over another chair, sitting beside his brother. Without having to ask, he knew exactly what was on his brother's mind.

" Fred... what happened at quidditch practice today... I'm sure Oliver didn't mean to..." He trailed off as he saw Fred's face darken at the mention of the keeper, an ugly scowl appearing on his usually cheeky visage, " Fred..." His tone was serious, cautionary. He knew his brother. They were twins. They had no secrets, there lives were intertwined like the roots of the whomping willow, bound together tightly, never letting go unless prodded with an extremely big stick and even then with a certain amount of reluctance. Fred had always been the one with the short temper, the less controlled, more unrealistic twin. He never considered the consequences of his actions. Why bother when George could do it for him?

And George had been right there when Oliver announced that he was kicking Fred off the team for mucking about during serious team practice time. George had immeadiatly announced that he too would be leaving, finally blackmailing Oliver into keeping Fred, but the damage was done. Fred had stormed back to the changing rooms, muttering about how Oliver was obssessed with winning the cup, how their failure came down to Oliver's sheer stupidity and ridculous strategies. Of course, as with every scathing remark Fred ever made, this was designed to enrage Oliver, and did so perfectly, the older boy leaping on Fred from behind attacking him so viciously that it took Professor Dumbledore to separate the two boys who jumped away from each other the moment there was any sign of the Professor entering the vicinity.