Chapter one: The death of a loved one.
"Freddie no!" George bolted upright in a cold sweat. The room was dark around him and it must have been two in the morning. He hid his face in his hands, sighing, and picked up his head, turning on his lamp located on his side table.
The room looked as if Fred had never gone except for the emptiness that the room had. Fred's bed was neatly made up with his clothes laid out on it. George specifically remembered his mother in here just the other day going through his clothes. She wanted George to try them on so they would get some use out of them, but he refused and ran out of the room in tears.
George stretched out his arms and got out of bed, opening the door to his room and quietly walking out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. The hallway was dark and quiet which was unusual in the Weasley house. But ever since the death of Fred, the house had somewhat lacked the noisiness, the excitement, and the laughter it once had.
He tiptoed to the bathroom, not wanting anyone to know he was up. As he reached for the doorknob, the toilet flushed on the inside. Panicked filled his very thoughts as he knew someone would discover that he was awake. He quickly and quietly darted into a nearby closet just as the sink was turned on. He stood in the pitch black closet, listening closely. He put the one ear he had left up against the door so he would know when the door was opened.
The door opened with a small squeak and a half-awake Ron stepped out into the hallway, leaving the door open. He walked past the closet containing George back into his room, closing the door behind him. George sighed with relief, he had gone unnoticed. He slowly cracked open the door, just to be sure, and noticed the hallway was deserted once again. He slowly opened the door the rest of the way and stepped back out into the hallway, closing the door behind him just as slowly as he had opened it.
The bathroom smelt of the orange soap that Mrs. Weasley had bought just for George because she knew it was his favorite scent. But, she was wrong. George's favorite scent wasn't orange, no, that was Fred's favorite scent. He stared at the soap bottle; the door of the bathroom was tightly shut and locked. As he picked it up, he instantly remembered the fun him and Fred had when they were little, making pretend potions with soaps and tricking Percy into drinking them. He could feel the tears coming on and before he let any escape, he threw the bottle of soap into the trash.
He tried to avoid the mirror, but it was kind of hard when it was located right over the sink. When he looked into it, he barely noticed himself. He was pale with big, black circles under his eyes. It looked like he hadn't eaten for days, but that was because he hadn't. Every meal his mother prepared reminded him of his now deceased brother and it would just ruin his appetite. He was only living on water now, giving him only a little nutrition.
Paper towels with small flower designs were under the mirror and he ripped off a piece, wetting it with some warm water from the tap. He put the warm paper towel to his face, trying to wipe away his looks, but after he threw the paper towel away just like he had done the soap, his face still hadn't changed. He still looked like Fred, but only sicker and paler.
The windows in the bathroom were illuminated with light from outside the curtains. He rubbed his eyes as he walked over to the door, turning the knob and turning the light off at the same time. When the door was open, there was a figure standing there. His little sister dressed in her nightgown and her pink furry pajamas.
She smiled at him, "I didn't know how long you'd be." She said quietly, but calmly, "So I decided to just wait." George nodded quickly, looking for an escape from the conversation before she spoke again, "I know you had a dream about him, Georgie. I could hear you from my room," she paused, "yelling out his name." She touched his hand softly, looking into his brown, bloodshot eyes that seemed to always have tears pouring out of them ever since Fred had passed. "If you ever want to talk, I'm here. I know you don't really want to talk about that night, but I think it would be good for you. Mum thinks so too. She's found a lady in the prophet who talks to people when they are going through a tough time. She wants you to meet with her."
George avoided her eyes while she spoke; only looking at the floor. Most of the things she said just went in one ear and out the other, except the last sentence. "I don't need to talk to anyone," he said bitterly. "Not you, not mum, and especially not some stranger." He moved his hand away from hers, walking around her and down the hallway to his room.
Ginny stood there, watching him leave. She knew how hard this was for him. Losing a sibling was hard enough, but a twin? An identical twin, no doubt, must be ten times harder. Her heart went out to him and so did her words, but George was in so much pain and denial that he blocked out the world around him.
George's room was almost fully illuminated by the sun as he entered it once again. He got back in bed and buried his head under the covers, wanting to have a nice, soundless sleep. For a few hours he tossed and turned with his eyes closed while his thoughts were interrupted by images of Fred and the night he died, but eventually he fell asleep, but not for long.
About an hour later he was reawakened by footsteps outside his door. The Weasley family was awake and alive, ready to start the new day. George sighed as he sat up and dressed himself in a striped sweater and a pair of worn down jeans, making his way to the door. Things had quieted down in the hallway, but that was probably because everyone was down at breakfast, or outside awaiting the delicious meal his mother cooked.
Step by step he walked down the creaky stairs, the sounds of conversation and laughter getting louder and louder as he reached the landing leading into the living room. His whole red-haired family was sitting around the kitchen table, eating the breakfast his mother had prepared. Only two seats were empty. His own and Fred's which sat next to each other.
He slowly approached his happy family, not wanting to be seen. His family looked so happy but he knew that, like him, they were all hurting as well. The smiling and food stuffed face of Ron made George visible to the rest of the family. "Mornin' George!" He had said with a full mouth and suddenly all conversation had stopped and all smiles had disappeared.
"I… I, uh, didn't mean to interrupt anything," he said quietly to the rest of his family. They all just stared at him quietly, not bothering to eat or smile, besides Ginny who grinned softly at him, but he barley acknowledged it.
"Oh no, of course you didn't," his mother said as she rose out of her seat, coming over to give George a hug. "Would you care for some breakfast? I've made all your favorites."
George eyed the food on the table. Eggs, bacon, toast, chocolate chip pancakes, sausage links, and many other assortments of food had been laid out. George shook his head slowly before he spoke, "No thank you, mum. I'm not really hungry."
"Oh, come on Georgie. You haven't eaten for days. You need to eat something or you'll get sick," she spoke in her motherly tone, leading him by the hand to his chair. He of course had no choice but to sit as she fixed his plate with pancakes, bacon, and eggs. "Eat up!" she said, smiling, filling his glass with orange juice.
George forced a smile as his mother scattered back to her seat to continue eating. He picked at his food, eating a little here and there which made her slightly satisfied because at least he was eating something.
Slowly, the Weasley's disappeared one by one from the table as they finished. Mr. Weasley was off to work at the Ministry, Ron went to hang out with Hermione and Harry in Hogsmeade, Percy went upstairs to his room to organize his books, Bill and Fleur went back home to shell cottage and Charlie went outside to tend to the garden. The only ones left at the table were Mrs. Weasley and George.
She watched her son closely, concern filling her face. "Fre-," she paused, taking a deep breath before speaking again. "George, I know you know what tomorrow is and I know it's going to be very hard for you. I've found this lady in the prophet. Your father says muggles call them therapists and her job is to talk to people who are going through a rough time, like you. I want you to see her, talk to her about what has happened. It'll make you feel better, I promise."
George dropped his fork on his plate, standing up and putting his dish on the counter, the food on his plate barley touched. He didn't say anything; he just ignored his mother's gaze. He didn't plan on talking to anyone. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He was fine, perfectly fine.
His mother sighed, watching George's movements, "I've made you an appointment for two o'clock this afternoon." George eyed his mother, his eyes wide.
"I'm not talking to anyone," he said bitterly.
"But George, it's obvious that you're hurting inside!" she exclaimed.
"But so is everyone else!" he exclaimed back.
His mother went silent for a moment, shaking her head, "No one is as hurt as you, George," she said quietly. "You've changed to almost a complete different person."
George fell silent for a few moments as well, his head staring at the floor. "I don't want to talk to anyone," he said just as quietly as his mother had spoken.
"Then," she stared. "Write one of those letters I told you about, a letter to Fred. That'll help you just as much as talking to someone. Now, go upstairs and try on your clothes for the funeral. I've laid them on Fred's bed upstairs. And after you put them on, come down here so I can see them."
George nodded, not wanting to argue with her and climbed the stairs to his room. He entered the small, semi-dark room and picked up the nicely laid out dress robes that lay on his dead brother's bed. He put them on and walked back to the kitchen to where his mother was cleaning up from breakfast. He cleared his throat so his mother knew he was present in the room.
She turned around from clearing the table and smiled, clapping her hands together. "Oh Georgie," she said as she made her way over to him, fixing his collar. "You look dashing! And the robes fit you perfectly!" A very small smile appeared on George's face with his mother's comments, but he didn't speak. "Good, you can go take them off now. And please hang them up. We don't need them getting wrinkled."
George nodded and quickly left the room, climbing the stairs again and entering his room. He took off the robes and hung them up in his closet so they'd be ready for tomorrow. He dreaded the funeral. It would definitely be a very hard day for the Weasley's, and George wasn't ready. But he had no choice, he had to be ready. Not for himself, but for his brother.
Chapter two: the funeral
George stood at the window in his lightly illuminated room dressed in his dress robes. He couldn't believe that he was going to Fred's funeral. So many emotions were going through his head. He wanted to cry, stamp around like a child, throw a hissy fit, but most importantly, he wanted to smile at Fred's memory.
He knew, and his family knew, that this would be probably the toughest day of his life. He was nervous and his palms were sweaty and the time spent waiting was just driving him insane. Soon enough, there was a knock on his bedroom door.
He turned his head towards it slightly, staring at it for a few moments. At first, he thought whoever it was would just let them self in, but after a minute or so, he saw that that wasn't the case.
"Come in," he said, in a sort of droned out voice, that had a hint of sadness.
The door swung open and his smiling mother walked inside his room. "Oh goodie, you're already ready! Everyone is waiting downstairs so we can head to the fu-," she paused, "well, you know." She nodded, her voice was gentle when she spoke and George could tell she was trying to be careful of what she said so she wouldn't hit any nerves before the funeral.
George swallowed hard and nodded, "Yeah, uh, I'll be down in a few minutes. I just have to… put my shoes on and things."
Mrs. Weasley nodded and smiled once more, "Take your time; we'll be down in the living room." She closed the door softly behind her and George could hear her footsteps down the hallway and then the thump of her shoes on the stairs.
Slowly, George tied up his shoe laces and walked towards his bedroom door, his hand on the knob. He stood there for several minutes, trying to find the willpower to open up the door and walk out like he should, but he couldn't do it, not yet anyways.
Several moments passed until he forced his hand to turn the doorknob and close his bedroom door behind him. Slowly and quietly he walked down the stairs taking long, deep breaths.
The living room contained the whole family besides a few missing members who were his Father and two of his brothers, Charlie and Bill. He assumed that his father and Charlie were out finishing up the car and that Bill was at his own house getting prepared for the day.
His mother recognized him immediately, and before any words were exchanged between him and any of his other siblings, she scooted them outside and into the car. George sat next to Ron, who was quiet most of the ride. This was unusual, but he did expect everyone to be wrapped up with Fred's memory today. The car was different from the Ford Anglia that they had when Ron was a second year at Hogwarts and destroyed it by flying it into the Whomping Willow. This was a silver van-like sort of thing that could fit all the Weasleys inside. The sad part about it was that Arthur Weasley had still not figured out how to enchant this car like he had done the other, but it was only a matter of time.
They pulled into the funeral home before any of the visitors had arrived. Of course, they had planned it this way, so the family, especially George, would be able to say goodbye to Fred in private. The family proceeded out of the car, and George stepped out into the cold air. A small shiver went up his spine. He wasn't quite sure if it was his nerves or the wind, but whatever it was, he didn't like it.
Step by step he slowly made his way to the door. He was way behind his family, who had rushed inside to avoid the cold. George's hand met the doorknob of the place for the first time, the cold, chilling metal touching his soft and sweaty palm. Nervously he opened the door, being trampled by a mist of warm air. Taking a deep breath, he went inside.
The place was dim, warm, and filled with shades of reds, yellows and oranges. He walked down a small hallway, re-meeting his family outside, what looked like a semi-big room. He knew what awaited him inside the room, but he kept his calm like the rest of his family was doing.
His mother was talking to a tall man with dark hair that was neatly parted on his head. He had a matching dark mustache and was wearing a gray suit. He was a strange man, and he could tell that he was a wizard due to what part of town they were in, but he showed no wizard qualities.
"Guests will be arriving in a half an hour," said the man.
Mrs. Weasley nodded and smiled, "Correct. We just wanted to come a bit early to have some family privacy."
"Totally understandable miss," the man smiled back. "You can say goodbyes in the room to your backside."
His mother turned around to see what the man meant and nodded, "Alright. Thank you."
The man nodded and walked away. George was staring at him. The word "goodbyes" had hit him like a ton of bricks. He felt his throat tighten, his mouth dry up, and his hands begin to feel clammy.
"Georgie," said his mother, "I know this will be hard today and if you would like, I can go in with you if you don't feel up to doing it by yourself." His mother's hands were firmly placed on his shoulder as she spoke in her soft motherly tone, but George wanted to do this on his own and with no one else.
He shook his head, "No. I need to do this by myself." He could tell his mother respected his decision by the look on her face and by the curt nod she had given him.
"I understand. Go right in then. We will be out here if you need anyone or anything."
George walked slowly inside the room, pulling open the curtain slightly, and closing it behind him. As he inched closer and closer to the coffin, he could feel himself beginning to hyperventilate. He felt clammy, nauseous, and even if he might faint. But, he kept on walking. If he didn't say goodbye to his brother, he would regret it for the rest of his life.
Before he knew it, the coffin was right in front of his eyes and he was staring down at his brother. Fred was dressed neatly in his dress robes, his hair combed nicely and his hands placed one on top of the other on his stomach. Fred was pale and his facial expression didn't show happiness, but pain.
One tear escaped from George's eyes and that's when he began to break down. More tears flowed from his eyes and he collapsed on his knees in front of the coffin, sobbing hysterically.
"Why… why you and not me?" he blubbered through his tears. He sniffled and sat up straighter, putting a hand on his brother's forehead and stroking his hair. "I can't live without you, Freddie. You're a piece of me. I have felt so alone since you've gone, so alone. Everything seems quieter, and sadder, and colder without you." He sniffled again, trying to regain his breath from crying, "And… and I wish I was the one who died out there." He exclaimed quietly, his sobbing increasing. "I wish I could take your place so you can be down here alive and smiling. Pulling pranks and telling jokes because I know if I died, you'd be able to handle it better than I am. Do you know why?" He whipped some tears from his face, sniffling. "Because you were always the stronger twin. You were the best part of me and my life, and now you're gone, Freddie. And, I… I'm not sure I'll be able to live without you." George wobbled on to his feet, his body shaking and tears still falling from his face. He leaned into the coffin and kissed his dead brother's forehead. "Freddie, always remember that I love you. Please, don't forget that. You'll be in my heart forever and ever."
He stepped away from the coffin, and as he made his way towards the curtain, he looked back once before continuing on. As soon as he pulled the curtain back, his family devoured him into a group hug, squeezing him tight, and one by one, they also went in to say their goodbyes.
It was eight o'clock before everyone arrived and the Weasley family was all sitting in chairs to the side of the coffin. Strangers, Professors, friends, and family, hugged each one of them and said how sorry they were of their loss.
George didn't stay seated in his chair for long. After about an hour, he got up and wandered into the seating area located in the room next-door. He sat down in a comfy red chair and rested his head back, closing his eyes. The reality of not sleeping and eating finally hit him and he noticed how tired and hungry he was. He also felt stressed out and his shoulders felt stiff and tense. He adjusted his position in the chair just as someone tapped him on the shoulder. His eyes fluttered open and he saw Angelina standing over him.
"Hi," she said, sniffling. It was obvious that she had been crying due to her red, puffy eyes and red nose.
George sat up straight and nodded, "Hey."
Angelina sat down across from him, staring down at her feet. "Sorry about, you know, Fred," she looked up at him.
George nodded a frown present on his face, "Thanks."
"You know, I was in love with him. Fred I mean."
George nodded even though he didn't know, he could somewhat tell, "Yeah, you and him went to the Yule Ball. I remember."
She nodded and smiled, sniffling, "Yeah, we did."
George nodded, watching her and before he knew it, she threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He hesitantly hugged her back. It felt weird to him, hugging his dead brother's 'girlfriend'. Finally she let go of him, brushing some hair out of her eyes, and in that moment, she looked him in the eyes before leaning in slowly and kissing him softly on the lips.
Chapter three: The Grieving Process
George awake at a reasonable time the next morning. It was the first time in the while that he actually had gotten a good night's sleep with no nightmares of the night Fred was killed. He sat up, feeling hungry and got dressed in an old sweater and jeans and trudged down the stairs to the kitchen.
It was a Monday morning and no one was awake besides his mother and his father who were in the kitchen. His father, at the table drinking his coffee and reading the Daily Prophet, and his mother, who was cooking breakfast for the family. He entered the kitchen quietly, not wanting his mother to make too much of him being awake at a decent hour.
The floor creaked under his feet and the heads of his mother and father turn towards him, both looking surprised. George smiled slightly at them, as his mother rushed towards him, a sudden smile brightening up her face.
"Oh, Georgie! You're up already! What a surprise, please, come have a seat and I'll fix you some breakfast," she exclaimed, leading him to his usual seat by his shoulder.
George sat down and stared at the table for a few moments, awkwardly before looking up at his father.
"Sleep well?" his father asked, giving him a small smile.
George nodded, rubbing the back of his neck, "Yeah, actually. I feel like it's the first night that I actually slept all night."
With that sentence, his mother brought him over a big plate of breakfast containing eggs, bacon, chocolate chip pancakes, a blueberry muffin, and a cold glass of pumpkin juice. George's eyes widened with satisfaction as he picked up his fork and knife and dug in.
Real food tasted so good to George. He hadn't eaten anything in over two months, so being able to eat was like Christmas morning for him.
As soon as he finished eating, the kitchen was empty. His mother had gone to wake up the rest of the family and his father had gone to work. George stood up and put his plate and fork in the sink as he snuck out of the house using the back door. He couldn't face his siblings, not today, mainly because he was trying to trick himself into a lie.
George walked to the pond that was two miles from the Burrow, yes, it was a long walk, but he needed the walk to sort out his thoughts. He had somewhat convinced himself that Fred was still alive. Of course he had seen Fred's body, unmoving and cold in the coffin, but his mind wouldn't accept the image. It was blocked out. But, he wasn't only fooling himself; he was fooling his parents, too.
He was hungry when he woke up this morning and he did sleep well, but only because when he went to sleep, he told himself that Fred hadn't come up to bed yet, and when he woke up, he told himself that Fred had gotten breakfast early and went out for a walk, but that wasn't the case. George was having problems now, almost worse than before. He was in denial.
When he reached the lake, he walked over and took a seat on his usual rock as he watched the slow and steady water of the pond. He felt anger begin to rise up in him as he began to think things through in his mind. Why did this happen to him? Why couldn't he have been the one taken from life? Why his family and not someone else's?
George stood up and grabbed a rock from the ground and whipped it at the lake out of anger. He felt betrayed by life and he hated the thought of getting the chance to live on when his brother didn't even have a chance. If only he could have been there to save him. If he was by his side that night, it would have been different, but they were split up due to the explosion. He was thrown off task because of Harry and Ron. So, are they to blame?
George was too confused that he couldn't think straight. He needed to calm down, he needed to accept Fred's death, but it wasn't that easy.
He put his head in his hands and sighed, trying to just clear everything from his mind. If he could just start fresh in his mind, he could grab a hold of reality and be okay, but the lies, images, and sadness stuck like glue and he knew it wouldn't be easy to get them to leave.
Suddenly, an idea hit him. Not a bright one, but it was all he had. If he could get someone to erase his memory using the Obliviate spell, he would be rid of these awful thoughts and would be able to live a happy life once again.
He got up from the rock and broke out in a run to the house. It didn't take him long to get to the Burrow and he knew who he had to find; Ron.
He opened up the door to the house and quickly walked up the stairs, banging on Ron's bedroom door. A confused Ron opened the door and furrowed his brow.
"Hey George," he said slowly. "What's up?"
"I need your help," George insisted.
"Okay."
"Can I come in? No one else can know about this. Only you and me."
Ron thought George was acting crazy. Maybe he hit his head when he went for his walk, but he decided to let him inside to hear what he had to say.
"I have an idea on how to clear my mind."
Ron nodded, "And that'd be?"
"I need you to erase my memory."
Ron furrowed his brow in disbelief, "Blimey George! Are you mad?"
"No, you see, if you erase my memory, then I can be happy without all these memories haunting me."
"Yeah, but it doesn't just erase memories, it erases everything."
"I know. I thought you'd be able to fill me in on everything afterwards."
Ron shook his head, "No George, it's not that easy."
George handed Ron his wand, looking him in the eyes, "Yes Ron, it is."
Ron eyed George's wand in his hand for several moments, contemplating what to do. When he finally made up his mind, he looked back up at George.
"No George," he said, handing him his wand back. "I can't do it."
"Fine," George said angrily. "I'll find someone else then!"
"No one else will do it either! Why don't you just talk to someone, write that letter thing mum was talking about-"
"No!" George interrupted Ron, yelling.
Ron sighed, "It will help. Trust me."
"How would you know? Did you talk to someone?"
"No, but I wrote a letter to Fred. It helped me, George."
Glaring, George left Ron's room, his wand in hand. He slammed the door behind him and walked down the stairs, leaving the burrow. As soon as he stepped outside he broke out into another run. Not running anyway in particular. All he wanted to do was run, run away from his fears, his memories, his sadness, and his life.
Chapter 4: The letter
It had been four days since George tried to run away from the Burrow. That's what he had intended to do after he left Ron's room that night, to run away from his life. But, to his misfortune, he tripped and hit his head and he was unconscious for a few hours until he woke up, in his bed, back at the Burrow.
After that, he barely left his room. The only time he did so was when he had to use the bathroom, or shower. Otherwise, he was in pure isolation, pure denial. He felt lifeless.
He again, began to refuse to eat and he barley slept. He wondered if he'd ever feel normal, if he'd ever be his old self. But, of course he knew the answer to that. No, he would never be his old self. He lost his old self during the war.
George sat on the floor in the middle of his room, a small block of wood in front of him. He used his wand to turn it different color, light it on fire, and even freeze it, just for the entertainment.
He got bored quickly and he leaned back on the floor, staring up at his poorly painted ceiling. The color was white, but it was peeling. It hadn't been repainted since the summer before his first year at Hogwarts. He felt tears begin to sting his eyes as he thought of the once beautiful school where he had so many memories and spent so much time with Fred.
A small knock occurred on his door, but George didn't even bother sitting up. He made no sound, either. He just laid there on the floor. However, after a few moments the door opened anyways and in came George's younger sister, Ginny.
Ginny closed the door behind her and quietly, without saying a word took a seat on the floor across from where he was laying. Ginny hoped that George would be the first to say something, sit up at least, but she noticed that that wasn't the case.
"What're you looking at?" she asked, calmly, looking up at the ceiling. "The paint? Yeah, it needs to be painted. I could help you paint it if you want."
Still George continued to be silent. Ginny sat there for a few more moments, the silence making her both sad and angry. She contemplated about staying, or just leaving, but she decided to try once more.
"George, what's your problem? You can't sulk up here forever. Things happen every day, bad things and good things. But the bad things make us stronger, as do loosing people, like a twin. And being depressed isn't making you stronger, but weaker and it most definitely won't bring Fred back. You're letting them win, George, the Death Eaters. I know they have already lost, but by you acting like this, you are letting them win because they have broken you." Ginny stared at him after she finished speaking, waiting for a sound, movement, anything, but she still got nothing.
Frustrated, she stood up and walked to the door. She opened it almost fully before she heard a sound.
"You're right," George said, lying down. "They have broken me." He sat up, looking at her, "But I don't know how to fix myself. The only idea I had was stupid. I admit that, but I feel as though I'll never be happy again."
"That's how I felt at first, but mum made everyone write letters to Fred and even though it didn't do much, I felt somewhat better and each day after that I felt myself become more and more myself."
"I'll never be myself," George said quietly. "He was a piece of me."
Ginny nodded, "I know, he was your twin, but this way, you can somewhat become who you used to be. You can be the old you, just without Fred. Fred would have wanted you to be happy George, not acting like this. Write the letter, it can't do any harm." And with that sentence, Ginny left the room, leaving George to his thoughts.
That night, George had nightmares once again, preventing him from sleep. He lay in his bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, wishing that sleep wasn't so difficult to get. He rolled over onto his left side and saw Fred's dark and empty bed, the clothes that used to cover the orange blankets a month ago were now gone.
George sighed and closed his eyes as he began to whisper to the dark, "Fred, forgive me. I've been acting weak when I should be acting strong. I just miss you. Remember that when you see me down here acting like this," George took a deep breath, focused on the darkness, and fell asleep.
The next morning George felt strange, as if he wanted to turn things around. As if he wanted to be his old self again. Even though it was late, he got dressed and left his room for the first time in a week. When he entered the living room, it was empty, but he expected that. What he didn't expect was for his mother to still be in the kitchen when he entered. She looked surprised to see him, but she easily hid that with a smile.
"Georgie! It's nice to see you! Are you hungry?"
George shook his head, "No, actually, can I ask you something?"
His mother's expression changed to seriousness as she nodded.
"I… I want to… I want to try and leave all this behind me. Not forget about Fred… but… try and be myself again, move on, like Fred would have wanted me to. So, I was thinking about what you and the others have said, and, I have decided to write one of those letters. So, I guess my question is," he paused for a moment, "can I have some parchment and a quill?" George smiled slightly.
Mrs. Weasley looked both pleased and excited for her son as she rushed over to the drawer underneath the sink and pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill, and some ink. She put it down on the table in front of George's seat, and walked towards the doorway that lead into the living room.
"I'll leave you alone. If you need anything else, just call."
George nodded and watched his mother leave as he took a seat in his chair and stared at the blank parchment. This went on for thirty minutes until he finally pressed his quill against the parchment and began to write.
Dear Fred, mum suggested I write this letter. She said it'd make me feel better, I personally don't see how it will though because you won't see it and I'll never see your reaction to it, but I have nothing else to loose, so here it goes.
It's been only three months since you died and I have never felt so lost, so hurt, and so sad in my whole entire life, but, I bet you can see that. I miss you Fred, we shared everything together, jokes, laughs, clothes, books, toys, pranks, everything. You are not only my twin, not only my brother, but my best friend, my partner in crime. And now that I can't see you anymore, it hurts. It pains me more than anything to know that I have to live on without you.
Ginny talked to me yesterday. She said something that really turned my thinking around. She said that because I am acting the way I have, I am letting the Death Eater's win. But, she's right, they took you away from me and I have to be strong so they know that I haven't broken, even though I have. That Ginny, she's a smart one, and even though she should look up to me, I look up to her because she has been stronger than anyone since you died.
Fred, I miss you so much and the one thing that haunts me the most is how I never got to say goodbye. How I never got to hug you, how I never got even the slightest chance to protect you. However, I do know you are in a better place. You're up there with everyone, Lupin, Sirius, Tonks, Dobby, and Dumbledore and I know you are all having one big party. But, please make me one promise, that you'll never forget me. No matter how much fun you're having up there, never forget the fun times we had, the laughs we shared, the pranks we pulled, and most importantly, your beloved twin and family.
I'm going to stop writing now, but I just wanted to let you know that I love you and will never forget you. Never.
Love your identical twin, best friend, brother, and partner in crime, George.
The parchment that George had been writing on was covered with small water droplet blotches from the tears falling from his face, and after he finished the letter, he began to sob, as if he was sobbing everything out.
His mother, who was in the other room, came rushing in and sat next to him, hugging him.
"It's okay Georgie. It's alright," she said softly, trying to sooth him.
Chapter 5: Weasley's Wizard Wheezes
George sat in the front seat of the van next to his mother, the letter in his hand. He had asked her to bring him to the cemetery, to Fred's grave, so he could place the letter in front of his gravestone.
He was quiet most of the way, his head resting on the window as he watched the passing scenery. He hadn't been at Fred's grave since the funeral, and he was only there for a few moments, so being able to see it again made him a bit happy.
Eventually, they pulled into the cemetery and found the plot where his grave was. Mrs. Weasley pulled up in front of the plot and parked the car.
"Mum," George began, "can I go alone?"
His mother nodded and smiled, patting his shoulder. "Of course you can," she said. "I'll be here."
George nodded and opened the car door, his note in hand. He shut the door and began walking to the grave, which was four rows into the plot.
When George reached the gravestone, he stood in front of it, reading the engraved words, "Fred Weasley, April 1st, 1978- May 2nd, 1998. A friend, student, brother, twin, and prankster." George read over these words multiple times, just so they'd sink into his mind. He bent down in front of the stone, a framed picture of Fred laughing was perched up against it. He watched as the lively Fred laughed, over and over again, as if Fred was actually in front of him.
Gingerly, he placed his letter in front of the picture before standing up. He took one last glimpse of the scene and turned around, heading back to the car as he swallowed back the tears that wanted to fall from his eyes.
He opened up the car door and got inside, buckling up without saying a word. His mother started the car and drove off towards the Burrow. For a while, it was complete silence, until his mother decided to speak.
"How'd the grave look?" she asked, softly.
"Nice," George responded.
"Oh."
"Mum, I've been thinking," he started speaking. "I want to re-open the shop."
"Are you sure you can handle it all by yourself?" she asked.
"Ron will help me."
Mrs. Weasley nodded and pulled into the driveway of the Burrow. "Okay, we'll take a ride up there tomorrow then."
George nodded as he got out of the car and quickly walked to the door, opening it and walking inside. He went straight up to Ron's room, hoping that he'd be willing to help him with the store. When he reached his door, he knocked on it twice before creaking it open.
"Ron?" he asked.
Ron looked up from sitting on the floor, his chess set out in front of him, "Hmm, yeah?"
George walked inside, closing the door behind him, "I need to ask you something."
"No, I will not erase your memory."
"No, something else."
"Okay, what?"
"Will you help me with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes?"
"What? You're actually going to re-open it?"
George nodded, "Yeah, mum's taking us up there tomorrow. Please tell me you'll help me."
"Yeah, okay. But, under one condition."
"Okay?"
"I get half price of everything in the store."
George smirked and nodded, it had gone easier than he had imagined, "Deal."
The next morning, George woke up early and got dressed in a nice pair of jeans and a t-shirt, pulling a sweatshirt on over it. He combed his hair neatly and brushed his teeth in the bathroom. After he was finished, he stared at himself in the mirror for a few moments. He still could barely recognize himself. He had changed so much since Fred's death, which he knew Fred wouldn't have wanted. His skin was still pale, but the dark circles that were under his eyes were only somewhat visible. He was still skinny and he looked sick. He frowned and sighed, hiding his face with his hands and pushing his hair back.
"I'll make you proud, Freddie," he whispered to himself in the mirror. "I promise."
He left the bathroom and walked down the stairs, the living room empty and dull. He could hear the voices of his parents in the kitchen, but he decided not to bother them quite yet. Instead, he walked to the front door, opened it quietly, and exited through it, making sure it didn't close with a loud crack, which was something it usually did.
George stood on the front porch, his hands on his hips. He eyed the world around him. It was beginning to get nice out, the weather warming up, and the sun coming out almost all day. He stepped down onto the first step and took a seat, putting his clasped hands on top of his knees.
He let his head rest on his hands and he shut his eyes, letting everything disappear around him. Soon, he felt as if he was the only one alive at that moment as he indulged into his thoughts, but the moment didn't last too long. Soon, he heard the door open behind him and felt a figure of a person standing behind him.
He took his head off his hands and looked behind him, seeing Ron. George was surprised to see him up this early, but he could tell Ron was determined to help with the shop, which was something that George liked.
Ron was dressed in jeans and a red and black plaid sweater, his hair neatly combed. He looked out over his surroundings before acknowledging that George was there. He smiled at George and stepped off the porch, walking slowly to the car.
"Mum said to get in the car! She'll be right out," Ron yelled as he walked to the car. "Oh, and by the way, I call shot gun!"
George immediately stood up and smirked, it was always like Ron to try and trick him. But, Ron was too slow for the prankster. George laughed and disapparated into the front seat of the car. Ron ran over to the car and crossed his arms when he saw where George was sitting.
"Hey!" he yelled, so George could hear him through the closed window, "I called shotgun!"
George shrugged, "Too bad. You were too slow. Now, get in the back so we can get going."
Ron rolled his eyes and opened the back door, getting inside the car. He shut the door as soon as he was buckled in.
"Fine, you can sit there on the way, but I get it on the way back."
"Hmm, sure thing little brother. But, you won't just get it because you called it. You'll have to try and outsmart me for it."
Before Ron even had a chance to respond, Mrs. Weasley opened up the car door and got inside.
"Everybody ready?" she asked with a cheeky grin on her face. The two boys nodded, she started the car, and they went on their way.
The way to the shop was a long and quiet ride. The only thing that broke the silence was the music by the Weird Sisters that was playing on the radio. Occasionally, Mrs. Weasley would sing along, and it would take everything out of George not to laugh, but besides that, it was quiet.
Soon, they parked outside of the Leaky Cauldron and all three of them got out and Mrs. Weasley locked the doors, walking inside of the Leaky Cauldron, George and Ron behind her.
When they entered, many people stopped to say hello, talked to them, and ask how they were, of course they chatted, but not for long since they needed to get to the shop. They walked outside the back door of the small pub, and where face to face with a brick wall. Using her wand, Mrs. Weasley opened the wall and they entered Diagon Alley.
The Alley was a lot busier now than it was before the war. Many shops had re-opened and many people were about and about shopping. To see that even the Alley could make a comeback made George smile, since it made him feel as if he had hope to return to the person he once was before Fred's death.
When they reached the shop, George couldn't believe what had become of it. The paint was falling from the outside, the windows were smashed in, and the enchanted statue of one of the twins had stopped working, and was rusted.
George's face had turned white as if he had seen a ghost and he felt sick. As if he was going to throw up or collapse. How could he have let this happen? What would Fred say if he saw this?
"I want to get started right away," he said, determined to get the shop open as soon as possible.
Ron looked wide-eyed, but before he could decline, his mother began, "Okay Georgie. You and Ron get working then while I go shop around."
Ron was holding back his feelings as George nodded and Mrs. Weasley walked back down the road to the other shops. George, on the other hand, was smiling.
"Okay then. I want you to use your wand and fix up the outside like it was before. I'll work on the inside. Got it?"
Ron nodded and got out his wand, taking a deep breath in, "Okay."
George nodded back at him and left him outside as he went into the shop. It was even worse on the inside. Personally, he had expected it to be empty, but no, everything was pretty much there, but broken, smashed, and ripped into shreds.
He took out his wand and pointed it at the disastrous place. He did a little hand motion and almost instantly things began to fly around, magically fix themselves, and find their rightful places.
As this began to happen, George walked around slowly, eyeing the peeling paint. He took out his wand again, did another hand motion, and instantly the room was glowing with newly painted, and dry walls. Everything had gone to its place and now the shop looked brand new.
George smiled, this was the happiest he'd been since Fred's death and he knew it was one step closer to being content with his life again. He walked outside to see how Ron was coming along, and the outside looked just as amazing as the inside.
"It looks amazing. Brand new. As if it was just yesterday Fred and I opened the shop." George spoke with awe as he stared up at the new shiny paint job.
"Wait," said Ron. "It's missing something."
"Missing something? What? What's it missing?"
"Two things actually," and with that sentence, Ron walked over to the front door of the shop and with his wand created and 'open' sign, and right in the middle of the upper part of the door, he wrote in nice letters with his wand, "In loving memory of Fred Weasley, a brother, prankster, friend, and most importantly, twin." Underneath he put a picture of Fred laughing and he smiled as he took a step away from the shop to examine it. "Now it's perfect."
George sniffled and smiled and devoured Ron into a hug, "Thank you so much Ron, it really means a lot."
Ron smiled and shook his head, "Anything for my brother."
Chapter 6: Acceptance
Many weeks went by after the re-opening of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and the shop did just as well as when Fred was alive, if not better. People poured in to see what the new Weasley duo was coming up with, and with the help from Ron, George got some amazing new products made that were sold out instantaneously.
Slowly, George began to accept the fact that Fred wasn't coming back, that he was gone, but he would always be in one special place, his heart. George began eating again, began pranking again, began sleeping again, began smiling again, and most importantly, began laughing again.
George stood at the counter after a busy day. The shop was empty and Ron was picking up some trash that had been left behind from some customers.
"Hey," said Ron, "I'm going to apparate home. You coming?"
George shook his head, "Nah, not yet. I'm going to lock up and rearrange the shelves a bit."
"Want me to stay?"
"No, I need some alone time."
"Okay, see you at home."
"See you… and Ron."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
Ron smiled, "If you don't stop thanking me, George, I think I may go mad."
George laughed, "Sorry. I just really appreciate everything you've done from helping me with the shop from not letting me erase my memory."
Ron nodded, smirking, "It was a stupid idea, and plus, mum would have killed me if she found out."
"Yeah, you're right."
"Well, I'll see you at home then."
George nodded, "Yeah, see you."
And after George's last words, with a pop, Ron disapparated.
George was alone in the shop, which is what he had wanted since it was opened, to have one moment alone.
He walked to the front of the door and looked at Fred's picture, smiling at it slightly. Fred would have been so proud of him, so happy with what he has become. He has been stronger than anyone, even though he did have some bumps along the road. He has had to overcome the most terrifying, most saddening, and the most hurtful thing in the world, and he did it. He has been able to accept what happened to Fred, which was something he thought he'd never do. Now, when he looks in the mirror, he doesn't see a stranger, but he sees himself. He sees himself with a small piece missing, instead of his whole heart gone.
His finger traced the outline of Fred's face and every time it moved he could feel his heart smile.
George moved away from the door and proceeded back to the front desk. He sat down on the chair behind it and played with the buttons on the cash register, laughing to himself whenever the register made a dinging noise.
It was getting late and soon it got so dark that you were not able to see the street outside the window of the door. George sat and looked around the shop now, transfixed by its beauty. But something caught him off track. The bell on the door that signals the incoming of a customer rang and George's attention immediately went for the door.
"We're closed!" he yelled out, but he could hear the footsteps coming closer to him as he sat defenseless in the semi-dark room.
Finally, the figure stepped into the light and now George could see clearly who it was; Angelina.
He sighed of relief, "God, you almost gave me a heart attack. Are you mad?"
Angelina chuckled and shook her head, "Sorry. Saw the place empty and thought I'd come and see if you were here."
"You know," George began, "an empty store usually signals closing time."
"Hmm, but your open sign was still up, so no, it doesn't. Plus, the doors were unlocked. So unless you leave your doors unlocked all night, then it's open."
George rolled his eyes, "Clever. So, what do you want, because something tells me you didn't come here to get puking pastels."
Angelina smirked, "Your right, I didn't. I came to see you."
"Me? Why me?"
"Because… I… I mi-" Angelina broke off and restarted her sentence. "I wanted to see how you were doing. But, you look like you're doing fine."
"Right I am."
"I see you got the shop up and running again. It looks nice. Who's helping you?"
George smiled, "Yeah, I did, and thanks. It was hard work." George paused, "luckily Ron's helping me. I wouldn't have been able to do it without him."
Angelina nodded, not responding.
George studied her, "You didn't come here for a quick chat did you?"
She quirked her brow, "Wow, look who's clever tonight."
George laughed, "I have my moments." He paused again, "So, why did you come?"
"I need to talk to you George."
"Yeah? We're talking."
"No, something serious."
"Who says this conversation isn't already serious?"
Angelina gave him a look, "Seriously."
"Okay. Go on."
"As you know, we haven't really spoke since the funeral, since the… kiss, and I wanted to let you know that I didn't kiss you because I need some cheering upping. I kissed you because I… I like you. Really like you."
George raised his brow, "Oh?"
She nodded, "Yeah."
"I don't think Fred would be okay with this."
She frowned, "How do you know?"
"Because I do! I'm his brother and you were his girlfriend! Now all of a sudden you're trying to tell me you're in love with me?"
"Yes! I guess so! I never really came to the realization of it until he died. George, I love you. Please say you love me back."
"This is too much. I… I think you should go."
"What? But George-"
George cut her off, "Now." He said in a demanding tone.
Angelina nodded and sighed, "Fine, I'm going. Goodbye George."
George awoke the next morning restless. He felt bad for the way he treated Angelina, but, all of it was true. She was Fred's girlfriend, and he wasn't sure how Fred would feel if he went out with her. But he was dead. So did it matter?
Of course it mattered, Fred was his brother. But, maybe Fred wouldn't have minded?
George sighed deeply and sat up in his bed rubbing his eyes. He got up, got dressed and trotted down the stairs. In the kitchen he found his mother and his older brother Bill, who didn't live with them anymore.
"Oh, hi Bill," George said, smiling, as he walked into the kitchen.
Bill smiled back and nodded, "Hi George. Mum tells me you reopened the shop. That's great!"
"Thanks," George smiled again. "But, it was with the help of Ron."
"Come in and sit, Georgie," Mrs. Weasley broke in. "Are you hungry?"
"Oh, no thanks mum, actually, I was going to go out into the garden."
"Oh, okay," Mrs. Weasley said, trying to hide her concern.
"I'll see you later, Bill," George said, walking out of the kitchen.
On his way through the living room, he opened the cabinet and grabbed a blank piece of parchment, a quill, and some ink. He had a plan.
With all his supplies, he walked outside and into the garden. He took a seat at the small table out there and laid out everything in his hands. Okay, he thought as he took a hold of the quill.
Dear Angelina, sorry about the other day. I've been stressed lately and, I don't know what came over me. I've been thinking about what you said, and I guess I've always had a bit of a crush on you. I feel flattered that you feel the same way and would love to go out on a date sometime. Possibly Saturday? Maybe the Three Broomsticks? I hope you'd be interested in that.
Hope to hear from you, George.
George whistled loudly and down came his new owl, Barnes. He gave Barnes the letter and away the owl flew. George watched the owl until he was out of sight and he went back into the house awaiting a reply.
A few hours later Barnes was back, but this time he had a different letter in his hands. Nervously, George took the letter from him and unfolded it.
Dear George, I got your letter and I completely understand. You were upset, and it had all come so sudden. I'm sorry about that. About the date, I'm in. Saturday at the Three Broomsticks, I'll meet you there at eight. And, don't be late!
Sincerely, Angelina.
George smiled at the letter and slowly put it down into his lap. This was a good sign. Things were finally getting better. Something that he thought would never happen did, and that was accepting Fred's death.
Chapter 7: Eight years later.
George sat in the red armchair underneath the tall lamp in the living room, the Daily Prophet open in front of him. His small reading spectacles were perched up on his nose as he read about what was going on in the Wizarding community.
He could hear the sounds of Freddy and Roxy running around the house as Angelina cooked dinner. Married life wasn't as bad as George had once imagined, and now that he got to spend the rest of his life with the woman he loved made things all the better.
Freddy walked into the living room, spotting his father in the red chair. Freddy was only five with Roxy being not too far behind him at the age of three.
"Daddy," Freddy spoke as he walked towards the chair. "What are you looking at?"
George smiled down at his son and picked him up so he could sit on his lap. "Oh, just the paper."
"Oh. Anything happening?"
"Nothing important. But, there is a small article about the shop."
"Your shop?"
"Well, it's not really my shop anymore. Uncle Ron does most of the work now."
"But it's still yours."
"Hmm, I guess you're right," he smiled and ruffled Freddy's hair.
"What's it say about it?"
"Oh, just says something about the new products that are being introduced."
"Oh. Cool things, right?"
George nodded and smiled, "Yes, cool things."
"When you were younger did you run the store all by yourself? Or did Uncle Ron help you?"
"Someone helped me, but not Uncle Ron."
"Who then?"
"My other brother. My twin, actually. His name was Fred, like you."
"Really?"
"Yes, really."
"Am I named after him?"
"You most certainly are."
"What happened to him?"
"He died… a… few years ago."
"How?"
"During the war. He and I fought during it and he didn't make it out."
"So he's a hero then? Like the ones in my story books?"
George smiled wide and nodded, "Yes, exactly. Just like the ones in your story books."
"Daddy?"
"Yes?"
"I think he'd be proud of you."
"Really? And why do you think that?"
"Because you're strong. You were able to move on and still be happy."
George smiled as a small tear fell from his eye and down his cheek.
"Daddy, why are you crying?"
"I'm crying because I'm happy." George kissed the top of his sons head. "I love you Freddie."
"I love you too, Daddy."
Chapter 8: The stone
"Daddy! Daddy! Look what I found!" yelled Freddie.
George trudged through the Forbidden forest. Him and Angelina thought it'd be a good idea to let the kids play in the woods to get some fresh air and be familiar with the Hogwarts grounds.
"What is it Freddie?" George asked his son.
"Look!" Freddie held an acorn in his hand. "It looks like an alien."
George laughed, "It's an acorn. Squirrels like to eat them."
"Oh." Freddie threw the acorn back on the ground and ran to catch up with his mother and sister.
"Don't go too far!" George yelled to him.
"Okay!" Freddie yelled back.
George smiled and shook his head as he turned around and began to walk around the forest by himself. He wanted this time to remember all his memories here, good and bad.
He soon passed by a huge oak tree and something sparkled from underneath the leaves.
Curiously, George walked over to it. He bent down and moved the leaves away to find a diamond shaped stone with an odd shape in the center of it. He picked it up and plopped it into the palm of his hand to get a better look.
As he was looking at it, and strange substance behind him began to form into something. The substance was like gas or smoke and it was creating something that looked oddly like a human.
"Boo," said the thing casually.
George clenched the stone in his hand, startled by the voice. It sounded like someone he knew, but it couldn't be, could it?
George figured it was his son, playing a trick on him, but his mind knew better. He turned around to find himself face to face with his twin brother, Fred.
He couldn't believe it. Fred, he was standing right there, not even five feet away. He looked the same as the day he died, still dressed in his sweater and trousers, his ginger hair a tousled mess.
"Hi old man," Fred said humorously with a smile.
George was speechless, "How… how is this possible?"
"Two words, Resurrection Stone."
George opened his fist and looked at the stone that was place in the center of his palm. "Harry told me he dropped it. I stayed out here for days and weeks trying to find it after you died and I never had any luck."
"You always find things when you least expect them."
George looked up and studied his brother as tears began to fall from his eyes.
"Whoa, don't cry."
George sniffled, the tears continuing to pour out, "I can't help it. Fred, I miss you so much. Every day it hurts worse and worse. My heart aches and I feel lost."
"I know buddy. I feel the same way. You weren't the only one who lost someone. I lost you as well. But, hey, you made it this far. You can't give up now."
George made room for more tears as he wiped some from his cheek, "I know I can't give up. I have a family and I have to be there for them."
Fred nodded, "Exactly. You can't let them loose you."
"I wrote you a letter."
"I know. I read it."
"Mum badgered me for days before I pluck up enough courage to write it."
"Good. Sometimes you need to be badgered. Plus, I liked the letter. It was heartwarming. Made me cry a little too."
George nodded, and there was a silence for several moments. Finally, George was the one who broke the silence.
"You were my best friend, Fred. You were a part of me. When you died, I lost it. I went into a depression. I barely ate, barely slept, barely did anything but mosey around the house. I wanted no help and when I looked in the mirror, I could barely recognize myself. And ever since you died, I always wished that it had been me instead. That I had been the one killed because I know you would have been able to handle my death better than how I handled your death. You were always the stronger twin."
"You're wrong, George. If you had been the one that died, instead of suffering down here, you would be suffering up there, like I did. I suffered just like you. I felt sorry for myself and wished that I could be down there with you, to comfort you while you suffered. It was torture to see you like that. Complete torture, but if you had been the one who died and I had been the one who lived, I would have done the same things as you. Neither one of us is stronger than the other one." Fred paused as he watched George cry silently to himself. "The shop, on the other hand, looks great. I really like what you and Ron did with it. And I know that you were afraid that I'd get mad that you were dating Angelina, but I wasn't. I was happy."
"Why?"
"Because, I'd rather she be with you, someone I trust and love and care about, than with some stranger who's name I don't even know."
George cracked a small smile, "I named my son after you."
Fred smiled, "I know, and I thank you for that. You better teach him to be a prankster."
George smiled through his tears, "I will, don't worry."
"I'm sorry, but I need to go."
George nodded, as his tears began to pour out faster from his eyes, "I know."
"George, I love you. You are everything to me. You're not only my brother, but my best friend, my other half. No matter what, you will always be in my heart. Forever and always."
"I know, Fred. I love you too, my twin. I will love for my whole life. Until I die."
"Goodbye, George."
"Goodbye, Fred," And with that last sentence, George allowed the stone to slide out of his hand and his brother disappeared up and into the sky.