You were picking on the well-known gay kid at lunch, the taste of cruelty leaving a bitter residue in your mouth that you tried to ignore. You've been doing this all year—using others' vulnerability to mask your own secret. The truth simmers beneath your skin, hot and shameful: you're gay. Gay for Fred and George Weasley, of all people.

The noise of the Great Hall suddenly fades as you feel a presence behind you. The twins have noticed again. You can practically feel their stares burning into your back before they even approach.

A strong arm slings over your shoulder, Fred's signature cologne—something citrusy and warm—filling your nostrils as he pulls you away from the scene. "Hey, mind if we have a word?" he asks, though it's clearly not a question as he starts guiding you toward the empty classrooms.

George follows silently, his normally playful eyes hard with disappointment. They drag you into an abandoned classroom, the door clicking shut behind you with unsettling finality. George turns the lock, and both twins face you, arms crossed, their usual grins replaced with identical expressions of disapproval that make your stomach twist with dread.