Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to Harry Potter. The inspiration for this story came from a picture I saw but I don't know who drew it so I can't give them proper credit. Sorry person who drew the awesome picture!
George stared at his brother's casket. It still didn't seem real that he was gone. He felt like he would never get over his death. Half of him would always be missing.
He tried to imagine his future. His life with out Fred. But the thought of him starting a sentence and pausing only to find that Fred wasn't there to finish it was almost too painful to bear.
What was the hardest thing for him deal with was that he hadn't been with Fred at his last moments. Oh the shock he had had when he walked into the great hall, scanning over the bodies that lay there, when he came to Fred's body he didn't even realize that his mother was crying over him. All he could see was Fred's still face, with a smile frozen on it as if this was all a cruel joke. It would have been the first joke of Fred's that wasn't funny and that's how George knew that it was real even though it didn't seem that way.
George was only slightly aware of the people around him as they lowered Fred into his grave. He felt gentle pats on his back and whispered voices that sounded familiar and friendly. But one voice would never be heard again.
"Ha! Fat chance of that," said a voice to George's right. George's head spun in the direction of the sound. All he saw there was Ginny hanging on his arm crying silently into his sleeve. No. The voice didn't come from her.
George turned and looked behind him. The movement caused Ginny to let go of his arm and look at him questionably but he ignored her.
"Where are you?" George whispered.
"Wouldn't you like to know," said the voice, again coming from his right. George spun again, ignoring the looks he was getting. He could hear laughter to his right. Always to his right.
Slowly George's hand went up and touched the large hole where his right ear used to be. Could it really be?
"Fred?" George said so quietly nobody heard him.
"That's Mr. Weasley to you," laughed the voice. "Who's the saint now, Georgie boy?"
George laughed as he turned back to face the casket. Tears came down his face but he was smiling. Fred was gone but he was still there in a way. It didn't make any sense but at the same time it made perfect sense to George.
"Always knew we had a special connection," George whispered quietly.
The voice snorted. "Ha. Your 'special connection' is me talking into a little disembodied ear. By the way, you should have cleaned your ears before we went to pick up Harry on Privet Drive. I mean come on! I can understand why someone like Lupin would be all grubby. But you, Georgie? You got our shop to think of remember?"
"Lupin?" George said distractedly. "Can you talk to the others?"
"You bet I can," Fred said. "Sirius thinks that you 'holey' joke was lame too. I told you so."
George laughed. He was really collecting odd glances from people now. His mother really looked concerned. Only Harry gave him a knowing glance, but Harry really didn't know what was going on.
"Tell 'em I say 'Hi," Fred said. George turned to Harry.
"Fred says 'Hi," he whispered. The knowing gaze turned to a curious one. At least he wasn't looking at George like he was crazy.
George sighed.
"What's it like up there, Fred?" he asked in a whisper.
"I can't tell you much. It's not half-bad though," Fred said.
Fred's casket was now in its grave. The mourners turned to leave. A fresh stream of tears came to Georges eyes. It still wasn't the same.
"Aww. Come on. Would you stop your blubbering," Fred whined.
"I miss you, Fred," George said.
"I know you can't see me, but I'm right 'ear," Fred said. George smiled.
"There, now. Stop the crying. I'm all very touched by it, but you don't know how painful it is to see a whole bunch of sad faces and not be able to tell a joke to them that they would hear," Fred complained. George looked around at all the red eyes and runny noises of his family.
"I suppose I'll have to work on them a bit," George said.
"Not just them. A lot of people are suffering from loss now, George. You got to cheer them all up," Fred said in a matter-of-factly voice.
"Joke shop?" George asked weekly.
"Joke shop. That's what we started it for remember?"
George nodded. "I guess I had better-"
"Get to work," Fred finished.
OK. I think this has great potential to be more than just a one shot. But I need ideas for a plot.
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This used to have two chapters but the story is not going anywhere. Ideas are welcomed. Until then, this story is remaining a oneshot.