Hello! I have always loved the Weasley twins, and I have been wanting to write about them for a while now.

What upset me the most about Fred's death was that he and George never really got a chance to say goodbye, so here is a one-shot in which George reads a letter that Fred wrote to him before his death.

Please read and review, you will make me very happy!

Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns all.

George Weasley trudged his way along Diagon alley, his heavy footsteps echoing upon the cobbles of the deserted street. He gazed ahead, and saw the purple-and-orange shop front of Weasleys Wizard Wheezes stretching out before him. Quickening his pace, he reached the door within seconds and brought his wand up to the lock, casting the spell that would break the protective enchantments surrounding the shop. He turned the handle and the door swung open. The ding of a bell above him announced his entry to the empty room, as George looked around the shop, catching his breath at the sight before him. All of the products lay smothered in a thick layer of dust and the silence surrounding him was deafening. This was the first time he had visited since his twin's death one week ago, and George was not prepared for the overwhelming wave of emotions that flooded over him. His feeling of loss over Fred's death was even more poignant here, in the business they had built together, and he felt the familiar sensation of teardrops gathering in the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill down his face.

Maybe he shouldn't have come, after all. Ever since the final battle, he had been staying at The Burrow, in the old room he had shared with Fred, hoping for a bit of peace so that he could mourn his twin privately. But with a family as big as the Weasleys, peace was hard to come by, and George was sick of the sorrowful looks his siblings shared when he entered a room, or the fact that wherever you were in the house, you could always hear someone crying. But worst of all was the way that his mother couldn't even look at him without bursting into tears and sobbing about how much she missed her 'darling Freddie'. It had gotten so bad that George couldn't take it anymore, so he had left that very night, without saying a word to any of his family about where he was going.

Still hesitating on the doorstep, George reached up to rub furiously at his moist eyes, then took a few steps into the building, heading towards the little office at the back of the shop. He entered the tiny room, and sat down on one of the two black leather chairs, resting his elbows on the hard wooden desk in front of him. He placed his head in his hands and took several deep breaths, exhausted from the grief he had felt over the past week. George glanced up at the clock on the wall opposite him; it read a little after midnight, but he was in no mood for sleep. Each time he closed his eyes, he saw Fred's body, a ghostly laugh still etched upon his lifeless face. Sighing, George reached over to switch on the table lamp, and blinked at the burst of light which filled the room. He glimpsed his reflection in a mirror on the wall beside him, then averted his eyes as fresh waves of grief and guilt washed over him.

Leaning back in his chair, George noticed a piece of parchment lying on the desk that he hadn't seen when he had first sat down. He would have ignored it, had he not seen his own name scribbled onto the front of it. Curiosity getting the better of him, George reached forward to inspect it, discovering that it was, in fact, an envelope. Who was it from? Fred? But why would his twin write a letter to him? Carefully, George opened the envelope, and began to read the words of the letter.

George,

I bet you didn't expect to be getting a letter from me, did you? At the moment we are hiding out at Aunt Muriel's, and I thought I'd pass the time by writing you this letter, telling you all of the things I didn't tell you when I was alive. I know that the final battle is coming soon, and no matter what I do, I cannot shake off the feeling of foreboding, that I'm not going to make it through to the end.

It's so strange, writing this, with the knowledge that I will be dead by the time you read this. I'm planning to sneak out to our shop and leave this letter on the desk, so that the next time you go there, you can read it.

I know that, out of our enormous family, you are probably the one suffering the most from my death. Losing your brother is hard, but losing your twin is unbearable.

I'm not asking you to forget about me, but please George, I don't want you to think about me so much that you stop living your own life. And if you think of me at all, remember the good times we shared and the fun we had together.

What about the others, are they missing me? I hope mum isn't taking my death too badly, I mean, she does have five other sons, losing one shouldn't make that much of a difference! Lucky for her, with me gone, she won't have to worry about telling us apart. I will never forget the look of confusion she always had when we did that, tricking everyone by swapping our identities.

Whatever you do, George, don't become a stranger to your own family. I know that it will be especially hard for you, but please stay in contact with all of our dear siblings, and make sure that our parents aren't taking my death too badly.

That brings me to Angelina. I'm not stupid, I know that you love her and that she loves you back. Please don't let my death stop you from getting together, and don't waste time feeling guilty about being in love with my ex-girlfriend. You can never know how life is going to turn out, and I don't want you to regret the time you wasted being apart.

I know that this letter is short and can never make up for my absence, but I want you to realise that I will never leave your side, and just because you can't see me, it doesn't mean that I'm not there.

Finally, I want you to enjoy life, and appreciate every day you are alive. Please do this for my sake, as well as your own, and experience everything I will never get the chance to experience.

I will always be your twin, George, nothing can separate the bond we share, not even death.

Goodbye George.

From your most handsome, charming and spectacular brother,

Fred.

George felt warm, wet tears drip onto his trembling hands, but he didn't even try to stop their flow; it felt good to finally let his emotions pour out of him. He gazed at the mirror on the wall once more, drawn to it like a moth to a flame, and reached out for it, his hand resting against the cool, smooth surface. His eyes met the reflection's eyes - Fred's eyes - and he took a deep breath.

"Farewell, Fred," George cried. "You will always be my twin."