Happy Halloween, fellow freaks and ghouls! This is my third year on this site, and it occurred to me that in all that time, I have yet to offer up a thematically appropriate holiday one-shot. And please excuse the distinct lack of polish; I banged this whole thing out in three hours.

Disclaimer: Despite there being the Veil of Death in the Ministry and actual ghosts in Hogwarts, was Halloween in magical Britain still all about getting children hopped up on sugar rather than the more traditional ideals of honoring the dead? If so, I don't own the Harry Potter franchise; it belongs to J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Press, Warner Bros., and whomever else she sold the rights to.

"8.36 seconds," Oliver Wood, the new captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, said in astonishment as he stared at the two redheads. "You two have the exact same time? How?! Did you plan this or something?!"

Fred and George smiled identically before the former replied, "We're just that good. It's almost like we can read each other's mind."

"Still…" Wood shook his head before addressing the third-years again. "Well, you don't have the best times in the laps, but if you two are this coordinated with the drills we're about to do, you can consider the Beater positions yours." Spinning around on his broom, the fifth-year flew off to start the neck phase of the tryouts.

"Pshaw, like that'll be difficult," Fred commented with a madcap grin. "We've got this in the bag."

George nodded in silent agreement. A little routine like this would be extremely simple; everyone said they were scarily in tune with each other. Even if it hadn't always been this way…

George frowned at his brother. "Come on, Fred. What are you, a scaredy-cat?"

"George, Mummy told us no," the other five-year-old whined. "We're not supposed to be out here."

"She just doesn't want us to have fun." They were allowed to play in the apple orchard all the time in the sunshine, so what difference did the clouds make?

As if in response to his unasked question, the sky flashed and thunder rumbled. "Let's go back inside," begged Fred, his hands rubbing together.

"You just want to go back inside so you can read your books," George spat, as if 'books' was a bad word. Why couldn't his twin brother be fun like Bill or Charlie instead of another stick in the mud like Percy? He knew if he stuck around, the other boy would just keep on sniveling and shuffling, so he reached up to grab a low-hanging branch.

"George? George!"

"Go away!" he yelled, pulling himself higher as he quickly climbed the tree. Another bolt of lightning lit the sky and goaded him on. Maybe if he got to the top, he would have a better view of the show.

The leaves below him rustled, and he looked down with a glare to find his brother trying to follow him. Fred never climbed trees – or did much of anything, really – so the boy's progress was slow, but the fact he was doing it at all… "Come down! Mummy and Daddy are gonna get mad!"

"Not if you don't say nothing!" he returned, turning his face back to the treetop and continuing upward. Why did he have to have a twin, especially one so boring? He would be so much happier if Fred weren't around.

A third blast of thunder shook the air, and a gust of wind made the tree sway wildly.

Fred's keening was the only warning he had before hands clamped onto his ankle. "Get off!" George shouted, trying to yank his foot out of Fred's grasp. After a few moments, the pull on his leg grew substantially; their jostling had upset Fred's already-tenuous footing, and now the younger of the twins hung in midair, his only anchor his hold on his brother.

"Geoooorge! Help!"

"Let! Go!" The additional weight pulled George off the branch he was standing on, and now both boys were supported entirely by the elder's grip on the branch above. Flailing desperately, George's free foot planted itself in Fred's face, and a moment later his other leg was unhindered.

Fred, hanging in midair, stared at him in betrayal before gravity reasserted itself.

He needed a few seconds to regain his stability on the side of the tree and to let the shakes start to go away, but then George leaned out cautiously. "Fred? You okay?"

The other boy did not respond.

"Fred? This isn't funny." Still nothing, and so George carefully started searching for footholds to go back down. The closer he got to the ground, the better he could see the far-too-still shape of his brother laying on the grass. "Fred!"

His feet hit the soft earth and squelched as he almost slipped on the red liquid leaking out from underneath Fred's head. Staring into unmoving, wide-open eyes, George screamed in fright. What was wrong with Fred?! Why wasn't he moving?!

"I'm sorry!" he cried, reaching out and lifting his twin's head to his chest. "I didn't mean it! I'm sorry! Wake up! Please!"

A tearing pain ripped through his body, scissors snipping through every inch of him, and his brother jerked and twitched before finally taking a deep breath with a gasp.

"Fred! You're okay!" His hug threatening to squeeze all the air out of the other boy again. "I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to push you out of the tree!"

Blinking and looking lost, Fred let his eyes rove around the orchard. "Tree? But didn't I push… you…?"

George ignored his brother's babbling and just sobbed in relief. He wouldn't let something like this happen again. There might only be a few minutes separating them, but he was still the older brother and had to protect his younger brother. He would be kinder so he would not hurt Fred again. He would let his twin take the lead and pick what they did.

They would never be separated like this again.

His father gave his shoulder a small squeeze before following his mother and the rest of the family outside. Now alone, George let the tears stream from his eyes. Long ago, so far back that he could barely remember it, he had made a promise; he would do whatever it took to keep his brother safe.

He had failed.

"Why?" he demanded, cradling Fred's head in his arms, a gnawing pain in his heart threatening to consume him. "I was the one who was supposed to protect you. Why would you take a Killing Curse meant for me? Why wouldn't you just once look out for yourself?

"How could you leave me alone again?"

For those who are confused about what happened in the flashback: George unintentionally killed Fred and in his grief reanimated the corpse via accidental Horcrux. This is actually an idea that's been bouncing around in my head for a while, but I never could force it to make sense.

Silently Watches out.