Making Trouble (PG; Harry, Fred, George, implied George/Harry; 535 words): Fred's not alone in still being up to his old tricks.
Harry was walking Hogwarts' newly rebuilt corridors when he heard a familiar voice ask, "Wanna see a trick?" and Fred's head came rising through the floor.
"Merlin, Fred! What the hell? Are you trying to kill me?"
"What a treat! My trick works."
"I didn't think, I mean—"
"Death's not much of an adventure if you don't get to play, and this way, I can give Peeves a run for his money."
"You didn't pass over because of Peeves?"
Fred's grin dimmed a bit. "Actually, no, you idiot. Think about it."
Harry smacked his head. "Oh, right. George."
"Yeah, my idiot brother."
"Does he know . . . ?"
Fred moved towards Harry. "Nope. I hide from him when he comes 'round to whinge."
"Yeah," Harry said, running a hand through his hair, "I suppose you're—"
Abruptly, Fred moved through Harry.
"Which brings me to my point. Does George know you're queer?"
"Who says I'm queer?" Harry demanded.
"Ginny," said Fred. "I talk to her."
"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"Pay attention or I'll ghost you again, and I know that had to be hard on your bollocks. I'm freeze-tastic."
Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't know."
"What? If you're queer? Sure you do. Straight blokes don't wank to thoughts of a Weasley's weasel, do they?"
"Fuck. You do talk to Ginny."
"And you really shouldn't have told her that, but I'll forgive you once you've sucked—"
"Fred! I've never done anything like that before!"
"Well, it's past time you did, isn't it? You know, before you die?"
"I did die," Harry retorted, crossing his arms.
"Yeah, you lucky bugger, but you got to come back, so why waste time?"
"You know, George might not even want me like, I mean—"
"I know what you mean, and as far as my brother's concerned, you'll do," Fred said, circling Harry, "nicely."
"How do you know that?"
"He always said you were—"
"He might have mentioned that, when we were taking bets on the likelihood of Gin ever having you, but no. To put it bluntly—"
"Because that would be a first for you."
"George always thought you were a nice piece of arse."
"Come on, you know you want to. For me?"
"Don't want to be shadowed on any dates you might get in future that are not with George."
"Hey! You can't do that. . . . You can't, can you? I mean, shouldn't you be bound to the place you died?"
"Wanna find out?" Fred grinned.
"No. Fine. I'll . . . I'll think about it."
"From your blushes, I know you already are—and thanks, mate. I really would like to see George again, but I just can't until—"
"I get it, I get it. Just . . . don't tell Ginny about this, all right?"
"Sure, 'cause that's what dead brothers do, torture their live baby sisters."
"I'm, er, I should get back."
"And then you should go see my brother!" Fred said, in Harry's wake.
"All things considered," George said, stepping out of an alcove once Harry had gone, "he took that well. Nice work, brother."
"It was. We've always made a good pair of troublemakers—now go make some trouble and remember everything. I will want details."