A/N: This is for the "To Be Or Not To Be" and "One Line" competitions on HPFC- I just LOVE that forum!

Special thanks to Lolaaaa, who was a wonderful, wonderful beta and helped me improve this. :D

Please, read, enjoy, and review! Sorry for any typos. :)

The water looked deep and inviting. It was a deep, cerulean blue, ever-shifting as the waves lapped gently against the pier he was atop. Sunlight beat down upon it, making it all the more picturesque as the water shimmered prettily. George leaned down and stuck his bare foot in, and was shocked to find the water was freezing. Hissing at the sudden cold, he quickly shot his foot out, glaring down at the water.

It seemed that even water had malicious intentions nowadays, what with making itself seem so appealing and warm. George scowled and looked away, shading his eyes from the sun, content with just staring out at the horizon for now. He remembered the last time he had been near a large body of water.

It had been with Fred.

(flashback)

The water looked deep and inviting. George stared down into its depths, making silly faces at it and amusing himself as his reflection mimicked him. He really wanted to go swimming now.

"Oi, Freddy. Doesn't the water look great?" he asked, looking behind him to glance at Fred, who was scratching onto a piece of parchment detailing new plans for another invention. It was Seventh Year, and that toad Umbridge was being a bitch, not letting them properly plan anything. To escape from her, George and Fred had snuck out to sit by the Great Lake when they were supposed to be at Charms.

Fred looked up at him and smirked.

"Why don't you go skinny dipping, then?"

George snorted out loud.

"Yeah, right. Like I'd do that. I know you'd steal my clothes and run off, leaving me here bare naked. Remember, dear brother of mine, I'm your twin. I know what you're thinking."

Shaking his head, Fred sighed in mock disappointment.

"Oh, George. Ruining all my fun. Who knew you'd turn into such a wet blanket?"

George opted to ignore his comment and went back to staring out at the water. He had always loved water, loving the raw power it held within its depths. Water flowed seamlessly from place to place, gliding majestically along a path that it would erode for its own purpose. Life depended on the presence of water, and yet, he had seen the destruction it could cause. Water was just...amazing. He had decided quite a while ago that, when he became filthy rich from the joke shop Fred and him were planning, he would buy a nice, cozy cottage at the beach and go there for vacations. Much like Shell Cottage.

Fred, on the other hand, hated water. It was one thing that differed greatly between the two identical twins.

While George had been daydreaming, Fred had decided to grant his brother's unvoiced wish and help him swim. He crept up behind George's back, and just when George sensed something was amiss and looked behind him, Fred pushed him into the water, Hogwarts uniform and all.

Splash!

George spluttered, both in offense and to get the water out of his mouth.

"What the hell! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU, FRED!" George yelled out as soon as he waded out of the water, though the effect was ruined when he suddenly went off balance and ended up stumbling back into the lake. Fred, who had tears of laughter running down his face, was gasping for breath and then breaking down in raucous laughter again.

"D-don't inconvenience yourself, Georgie," he called out loudly amidst his giggles. "Who'll push you in if I'm gone?"

Upon seeing his brother's seething face, which was red with anger, Fred realized that, if he valued his life, it would be better if he ran. Now.

(end flashback)

"Who will push me in, Freddie, now that you're gone?" he murmured to himself. He stared back at his reflection, and for a second, he pretended it was Fred and that he was talking to his twin. Patiently waiting for a reply, hoping that something would happen, George chuckled darkly when nothing did. The same one-eared, pale face, the same lifeless, humorless eyes, and the same haunted look stared back at him. He couldn't even pretend that he was talking to Freddie, because Fred had always been laughing, joyous, warm, alive.

George hated water now, because it reminded him of Fred. The way it mesmerized you, the way it pulled you in, the way you couldn't live without it. Actually, he found that he hated quite a lot of things now, because so much of it reminded him of Fred. Even the joke shop, which he and Fred had been the proud founders of, was hated. If not for Ron, who had taken it upon himself to oversee Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in his absence, the shop would've run out of business. George found that he didn't particularly care either way. It was supposed to be his and Fred's. If Fred wasn't there, who cared about the stupid shop?

Briefly, he wondered where the rest of his family and Harry were. This had been an excuse to get him out of his and Fred's room, where he had been cooped up the past couple of weeks. He'd come out for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, to exchange the normal pleasantries ("How're you doing, George?" "Great."), and to show everyone that he was still alive. His mother still couldn't bear to look at him for too long before getting all misty-eyed, and everyone else tried so hard to be normal around him, it was bizarrely abnormal.

In his room– no, in their room, George still hadn't touched Fred's things. Fred's bed was still as unmade and messy as it had been the morning before the battle, his pajamas still strewn all over the place. The hastily sketched drawings of new products– George had always been the one that had helped them come alive –were still scattered all around his bed, and various Quidditch magazines joined them.

The only thing missing was Fred himself.

Although seeing Fred's things, constantly being reminded of his absence, was so painful, George couldn't bring himself to leave. He deserved the pain, deserved to be constantly reminded of his brother's absence, because he had failed to save him.

For that, he knew he had to pay the penalty. For failing so miserably, he had to punish himself. He had to remind himself constantly, to suffer constantly, because Fred was gone.

Fred. Was. Gone.

Though they had been victorious, George had lost.

Once more, he looked into the hypnotic water. He remembered Fred's comment, about how, if he was killed, who would there be to push him in the water?

Now, George realized that he didn't need a push. He could fall in himself. Fall in and become lost in its depth, never to resurface again, not having to worry about the pain, the sorrow, the grief. He need not inconvenience his mother again, or force everyone else to put on a fake front in front of him.

He could fall in, only to join his brother once again. Would that be such a bad thing? To become lost in the depths of the mesmerizing blue? Would it really matter? Wouldn't everyone else be better off without him, him who reminded them of his deceased brother because he had the same face? Him, who caused such pain and anguish...wouldn't it be better if he just...left?

Left. Just like Fred.

Yes, George supposed it would be for the best. He had always wanted to die near water; now, he was going to die because of it. It was strangely funny, darkly humorous. Perhaps even poetic– he was going to die because of the one thing he had loved.

"To be, or not to be," he questioned himself, a whimsical smile on his face. He had heard that line from his father, who had had a period of obsession over Muggle authors. Apparently, it was quite famous in the Muggle world. It fit this situation aptly, George thought.

Bitterness rose inside of him, along with a surge of anger. Anger at his brother, anger at his family, anger at himself.

He leaned forward, his face getting closer to the water. It was so...pretty.

So...mesmerizing.

It seemed as if he had chosen the 'not to be' part.

Slowly, he started edging himself closer and closer to the edge. His heart was racing at the thought of what he was about to do, but he couldn't get himself to care that much. He was going to see his brother! He was going to stop being such a burden on his family. Surely, he could at least do this much for them, couldn't he?

If he tried hard enough, George could almost imagine that the reflection he was seeing was Fred, waiting to embrace him.

"I'm coming, brother," he whispered. "Don't worry. I'm coming."

His eyes widened, his breathing became faster, and his heart redoubled its drumming. Clenching his fists at his sides, he asked himself once more.

Is this what I really want? Is this...is this all right?

Yes, he answered after a few moments of contemplation. This is exactly what I want. To see Fred again. To be...to be happy.

He couldn't bring himself to feel scared or frightful about the prospect that he was going to die. In fact, he almost felt happy. He was going to get his wish granted. Didn't that count for something?

Wondering whether he would need a spell to make sure that he would stay under the water, he took a deep breath, pushing himself closer to the edge, and...

"Don't do it, Georgie," a soft, familiar voice whispered. "Please, don't do it."

George stopped suddenly, reeling back and looking around wildly, his heart pitter-pattering. He had just heard something! He had just heard something that he couldn't have heard.

He had heard Fred's voice.

"F-F-Fred?" he questioned hoarsely, hoping without wanting to that it hadn't been just an illusion. That he had actually heard Fred, though he knew it was impossible. He had seen Fred's corpse, stared at his lifeless eyes, wept at his brother's side. He had been there at his funeral, there as people had paid their respects and called Fred a "hero", a "martyr", though George knew that Fred had been wanted to be known as the "mischievous pranker". He had listened to the people who thought they could capture Fred in a few words, listened to their empty, hollow words as they praised Fred and offered fake condolences.

So, George knew that he couldn't have heard Fred.

When there was no response, however, unbidden disappointment clouded over him. He could've sworn...

Back to what I was doing, he thought darkly. Now, he had to muster up his courage again. Stupid, idiotic interruptions.

Shutting his eyes together tightly, he clenched his fists once more, taking a deep breath to wait for the plunge.

"Georgie..."

His eyes opened suddenly and he glanced around wildly once again. Dear Merlin, who's voice was that?

Standing up suddenly, he shaded his eyes and tried to peer out into the ocean. Perhaps it was someone out there, playing a cruel prank on him? Anger coursed through him at the idea. If it was, he wanted to find that bastard and beat the shit out of him. What kind of sick, twisted idiot did something so cruel?

He looked around, and then looked back down at his reflection and found the surprise of his life.

It was Fred. Fred was staring back at him.

He knew it was Fred because the person in the water looked alive, not an empty shell, a hollow of a person, like he had become. The same brown eyes he had been staring into his whole life peered back up at him, though they were unusually somber. Orange hair, freckles, and a face that looked just like his was, but at the same time, different...but he couldn't believe it. He felt his eyes widen, and when he didn't see the reflection's eyes widen, he dry swallowed a few times. His breathing became faster and he felt a stinging sensation in his eyes.

Oh, Merlin, it was his brother. His beloved brother. George couldn't believe it.

No, this can't be right. This can't be right. That isn't Fred staring back at me, he told himself, because he didn't want to be disappointed once more. He felt the familiar sense of numbness seep over him. Too many times had he mistaken his own reflection for Fred's and turned around in ecstasy, waiting to both embrace and punch his brother. When he had first seen Fred's corpse, at the scene of the battle, he had been convinced it had been a prank, a cruel joke, because the alternative was much, much worse. Slowly, in time, he had learned that it wasn't just a stupid prank, and the numbness had crawled and seeped into him, making him indifferent to everything, indifferent to life.

"You're not real. It's just my stupid conscience playing tricks. I know you're not real," he told the reflection bitterly and promptly looked away, because staring at it was too painful.

"I am real, George. Just...look at me."

George refused to succumb to the request, knowing what would happen, knowing that it was a trick. He knew that he would just end up suffering.

"Still as stubborn as ever, I see. George...won't you at least look at me once?"

George still refused to look.

"C'mon, Forge. Won't you look at your handsome twin once again? Don't tell me that you haven't missed me!"

George felt his eyes widen in surprise. Only...only Fred had known that he was the twin that had been dubbed "Forge". Only Fred would bring his "handsome face" into this, and only Fred could make a joke out of death.

Oh, Merlin. Could this be...?

George quickly knelt down, wanting to touch the reflection, but afraid that if he did, the wonderful image would disappear. He didn't care that this was probably not happening, that he had probably finally cracked, because Fred was looking at him. Fred, his deceased brother, was looking at him! He felt elation rise up in him, happiness at the fact that he was talking to Fred. To Fred!

Fred looked almost exactly the same as he had at his moment of death, though something was obviously wrong, because his face had a solemn, heartbroken look on it.

"F-Fred?" he choked out, his hand almost touching the water before he stopped himself. No! He couldn't risk it. He couldn't risk losing his brother again.

"Georgie, promise me something. Promise me that you won't ever think of killing yourself again. I can't bear to look at you like that. Please, Georgie. Mum can't lose another son."

It was his voice. Oh, God, it was his voice. It was Fred's voice.

After he got over the initial shock, George absorbed what Fred had just said.

"Wh-what? Why not? I just...I just want to be with you! And this would be better for mum! Don't you...don't you want me to be with you?" George didn't understand. Why was Fred stopping him? Why wasn't he letting him join him?

"You can't. You can't run away from it all and leave everyone heartbroken. Be strong, George. You don't know how much I want to be with you, but you and I can't be selfish. There are others here, others that need you. Don't you understand? You can't just leave! You can't run away!"

"B-but..."

"No! You must stay there! Please, George. You're going to be hurting everyone if you do this. You won't be happy. I won't be happy. There will be nothing but regret."

George stared at Fred with wide eyes.

"I don't...I don't understand. Don't you get it! I want to be with you!"

"You're always with me, George. Stay there, and make sure that I'm still remembered. Make sure that we're not forgotten, that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is still running, that we are put in graves side by side. You're going to tell your grandkids about me, remember? You can't just leave, George. You can't just run away. You can't. What kind of a Gryffindor would you be if you did? You're my brave twin, George, not a coward."

George only realized that he was crying when he saw the tears plink down into the water, making little ripples across the projection.

Fred smiled sadly up at his brother.

"Don't cry, Georgie. You look horrible when you do. I don't want to see my handsome face distorted like that, you know."

"Fred...Fred, don't leave me," he pleaded, his voice breaking in the middle, ignoring his brother's attempt at eliciting a laugh out of him.

The projection chuckled.

"Of course I'm not going to leave you. I'm never going to leave you. If anyone, you're the one that left me. Thinking that I was gone. Don't you get it? I'll always be with you. I'll always be watching you, George. Always."

His image was fading, and George started to panic. No, no, no, no! He couldn't be leaving! He couldn't!

"I love you, Georgie. Don't you forget that."

"Don't go! Please, don't go!" he called out, but before he could finish, Fred was gone, leaving his own broken, teary reflection in the water. "Please...I need you."

The tears were flowing down his face, and he was calling, begging for him to come back. He needed him, didn't he know that?

"Merlin, Fred! I hate you!" he shouted, at his wits end, and he swore he heard a chuckle in return. "You bastard! How could you? How could you leave me?"

He knew that he was shouting at nothing, he knew that Fred couldn't hear him, but he had to get this out.

"Goddammit, Fred! You asshole! Chuckling at my misfortune! Thinking you could just get out of my life! I hate you! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. And then, the sudden surge of anger was gone, and George suddenly felt so tired. "I hate you," he whispered to himself. "But you know that's a lie, don't you? You're my twin, after all. You know what I'm thinking."

Tears were still rolling off his face, but he felt...he felt lighter. He felt...he felt better. Better than he had ever felt since Fred's death.

"That bastard," he choked out. "Even after he's dead, he's still getting on my nerves."

George stared out into the horizon, admiring the mesmerizing blue without wanting to, the same blue that had almost consumed him

He shook his head, like a dog trying to get rid of pesky mosquitos, and then sighed heavily, plopping himself down back on the pier and stuffing his face into his hands.

What, exactly, had he almost done? He had almost killed himself. Killed himself.

He stared up into the heavens, surprised to find rain clouds rolling in.

George didn't know for how long he sat there, just staring into the clouds, trying to calm himself down and come to terms with the fact that he had almost tried to kill himself. Only when the first raindrops plopped down onto his face did he come back to his senses.

For a while, he just sat there, letting the rain wash over him, shutting his eyes in the process. Steadily, the rain started getting heavier and heavier, drenching him in the process. He imagined that, with the rain, he was washing away parts of his grief, of his sorrow, of his pain. He imagined that, for now, everything was all right, that Fred actually was up in the heavens, staring back down at him, smiling and happy. He imagined that, one day, he would join his brother, though he wasn't going to end his own life. He imagined that, for now, everything was going to be okay.

When he opened his eyes, he suddenly found that he didn't hate water anymore.

In fact, he found that he quite loved it.

Thoughts? Please, don't favorite without reviewing. Even a quick "Great!" will be wonderful. :)

~SCYS