"So what were you drawing?" Fred questioned. Harry had his head rested in the crook of Fred's neck. Harry hummed, the smaller boy half asleep. Fred has his hand in Harry's hair, playing with strands and enjoying his presence.

"What?" Harry mumbled. Fred rolled his eyes half-heartedly. He adjusted his body to where Harry's head was put to his chest.

"You're pretty conked out, huh?" Fred whispered to him. Harry gave him a muffed reply that he hadn't even thought to try and understand.

The moment was sweet.

The room was quiet and empty. Everyone was at the dining hall. Normally Fred would want Harry to eat, even went as far to drag him to dinner when Harry was in his third year, but George promised to smuggle back some food. And even if he couldn't, Fred would gladly sneak into the kitchens.

Harry moved his arm, his eyes closed as he turned his head. His breathing was even, and Fred noticed that Harry was now asleep. He felt his skin tingle, the warm weight of Harry on his body being a source of comfort.

Fred went back to playing with Harry's hair. It made him feel a bit girl-ish, but he started to braid it. His fingers weaved strands of hair together. The braids, once finished, came undone the minute he let his hand stray to make more. Harry's hair, as wild as it was, was too short for braids to stay in. Fred briefly thought of how he used to see his father do the same when he was younger. He would lay on the couch, Fred's mother sitting on the floor, and braid her hair.

Fred admitted to himself that his father braided way better than he did.

His stomach growled. Fred winced, hoping Harry hadn't been disturbed. He was hungry, sure, but he was so comfortable and Fred knew he didn't have the strength in him to move. If he woke up Harry, he didn't think he could forgive himself. But braiding his hair's safe, Fred noted. The logic didn't quite add up, but it was fine.

Fred made himself laugh when he thought of what George would say to him.

"Only the first day of being his boyfriend and you're already whipped!"

Of course, his twin wouldn't say it to be mean. A teasing remark, no matter how socially embarrassing, was never meant for cruelty. Ron, for example, was teased by the both of them but never out of any ill-will, but brotherly affection. After all, it's only family (blood or found) that you can say you hate with every fiber of your being while also agreeing to fuck someone's shit up the minute they agree.

Fred vanished the thoughts and bad started to count each braid he did.

1...

2...

3...

4...

He could hear voiced from outside the portrait. People must have been coming back from dinner. Fred's stomach made it clear that it was upset, growling louder. Harry mumbled something. Fred fought a grin.

My boyfriend, a sleep talker. I wonder what he dreams about? He thought.

The voices from outside had moved on. Disappearing down the hall, much to the relief of Fred. That meant he could stay holding Harry for just a bit longer.

He yawned, planting a kiss in Harry's hair as his eyes got heavier.

He couldn't fall asleep, he told himself, but maybe he could just rest his eyes...