A/N: Oh deary me, I was practising my guitar when this little plot bunny hopped into my head. So, I wrote it, and my friend made me post it. Eeeeh...you know the drill, disclaimer: don't own Harry Potter. So yeah, this is my second fic, likey? yes? no? feedback, perhaps? or not? Well, whatever floats your boat. Onto the fic!
The sun filtered brightly through the blinds in George's room. The room he could not come to terms with as his own. It had been his and Fred's for as long as he could remember, and felt that it should remain as such. George looked out the blinds into the garden below, his eyes narrowed against the bright light.
It had been 6 days since the Battle of Hogwarts, Voldemort was gone, dead. Everyone was out celebrating. They were happy; they had a reason to cheer loudly in the streets without fear of being murdered on the spot. George however, was not celebrating. At the beginning of the war, Fred had promised that he and George would throw the biggest, most exuberant victory party once Voldemort was vanquished, enough to rival everything people did to celebrate the end of the first war put together, and now he sat in his darkened room thinking about the next day. He wasn't pondering it, he wasn't asking why. George did not need answers, he just had to learn to cope, but he knew that it was much harder to do than to say. His and Fred's words had always been hard to act upon, they'd always set themselves up for something impossible, but they would always try. The grief that hung in the very air that he was breathing was stiffling. He couldn't stand it, and willed it away. However, despite the strength of the determination that glittered in his now-deadened eyes, he couldn't dispel the image of Fred lying in the Great Hall among the dead: cold and expressionless. They say he died laughing; it couldn't get much better than that for a prankster. But George couldn't help feeling although half of him was missing.
He thought of those trinkets that muggles would give to one another. They would have a metal ring and some sort of shape and one would say "Best" the other "Friend". They would trade, and one would keep one half, the other the other half. Years later, when they were cleaning out their rooms, they would find the little keychain and remember their friend with whom they shared so many laughs. Or sometimes the other half was never found, and the friends were lost, never to be reuinted once more. That was how George and Fred were now. One was lost, never to return, and the other left behind to muddle through the days and wait to be found by the joy in the world as best he could until he rejoined his twin.
George glanced down at his watch. The funeral for Fred was the next day, and he wasn't about to let Fred's memory die down without a lasting impression. It was time to begin working on the best, most flamboyant fireworks display the Wizarding World had yet to see. Standing up George pulled out the cauldron that he and Fred had used so many times for so many successful and failed experiments. Fred wouldn't have wanted him to mourn. Sure, there would be no more new memories forged between him and Fred, but George would live his life out for both himself and his lost twin. George was both scared, but ready to start this new path in life without his brother always being there, but rather never there; however, no matter how depressing that fact was, George would face it, and when he too finally left the earth, he would have a life time worth of memories to tell and share with Fred that he had created for both the of them. It would allow him to greet Fred with a smile and a joke, and it was a prospect he felt he could look foreward to. It was something he felt worth living for, working towards. The war was over, and his efforts weren't wasted. Now he was alive, so he needed to put himself into action. Even if there were no duels to battle in, there were wars of the heart that he had to concour.
It was true, there was no more Fred-and-George. However, George was determined to make this work. As he had determined earlier, both he and Fred would always set themselves for something impossible. If it were impossible to have a George without a Fred, then George would show the world that he could live without his twin. There was no going back, he knew. There were no more Weasley twins, he knew everyone thought. But George wouldn't break, he would keep pushing foreword and prove to everyone that the Weasley twins, although separated, were still at large. You could have a George without a Fred. George would prove it to everyone. He might not be perfectly okay, but he could still live. He could still breath and smile. He could still laugh. Just because Fred wasn't there didn't mean that life had to stop. The world kept going, and times would change, but George would keep his twin's memory alive as well as he kept himself alive.
With those thoughts buzzing around in his head, George began working for the first time in his life alone on a project. He began to create the solution that would leave no doubt in everyone's mind that just because one twin was gone; the other was still around to be reckoned with. His pranks were still there, and his heart was still in it. With all the determination that had built up within him over the past few minutes, George smiled a little, and the cauldron gave a familar loud BANG!