Disclaimer: I own nothing, literally.
A lone, heavily freckled man approached a gravestone, grasping a piece of creamy looking parchment in his left hand. His right hand rubbed the side of his nose distractedly, clearly his mind was on other things. His feet seemed to move on their own, one foot put steadily in front of the other until his eventual arrival at the admittedly impressive mound of stone. With a sigh, he sat by the side of the mound, his ankles lazily crossed and his upper body supported by his hands as he gazed up at the blue sky, lost in thought. Eventually, he spoke.
"You'll never guess what I made, Freddie. Well, I say 'I', but I suppose Angelina did some of the work,"
He snorted to himself, imagining his wife's reaction to that statement.
"I made... a bloody Ravenclaw!"
He paused, as if to let that statement sink in, for the significance of it to be understood by all.
"Can you believe that throughout the halls of Hogwarts Fred Weasley the second will be known now as a nerd! A Weasley nerd! The horror!"
Somewhere above, a bird tweeted pleasantly. George Weasley sighed once again.
"In all seriousness, you would've loved him, Freddie. Yes, he's an absolute geek, a bookworm, probably adopted-"
He winced. Shouldn't have said that, Angelina would be unimpressed by that also.
"But he got your wit. Well, in a more subtle way. More sarcastic and dry. Everyone says how different you are, but I know they're wrong. He gets the same look in his eye as you did, like a glint of of.. Something."
George could easily imagine it now, his son curled up with some book, a look of pure contentedness on his face. He loved that look more than anything.
"He's as steady as you were as well. A little rock, Mum calls him."
George shifted so he could hold the parchment in both hands and easily see the words written upon it. He could picture his Fred writing it now, the way he carefully smoothed the paper, painstakingly printing the letters (he was never very good with a quill). George could also picture the way his eyebrows creased slightly in worry and his heart broke a little bit. He looked down and read the letter for the umpteenth time.
Dad,
Please don't be disappointed.
Ravenclaw.
Who knew six words could cause this kind of pain?
"How could he think that, Fred? I don't think either of my children could ever disappoint me, to be honest. I actually understand how Mum and Dad still cared about Percy in his prat phase. Well, his extra pratty phase, not his normal kind-of-tolerable-actually-slightly-lovable pratiness."
George stared at the gravestone. Even after all this time, he still ached to talk to his brother. It was bearable now, most of the time. His life was so full of family and laughter and food and, occasionally, fights that he was doing well, honestly. But right now, what he wouldn't give for a conversation with his twin. Mind you, he knew what his twin would say, and it'd be something along the lines of, 'Fix it, you bloody moron'.
George stood up suddenly, decision made. Fix it he will.
"Nice chatting with you, o' brother of mine. You do give good advice"
The middle-aged man with his tuft of ginger hair (His hairline had receded considerably since his glory days) mock saluted at the marble block, before turning on his heel and disappearing.
o0o0o0o0o
The very next day, Fred Weasley the Ravenclaw received a note via Owl Post as he was blindly piling his plate with marmalade-laden toast, his eyes fixed on a book open on his lap.
Always proud of you, my little Ravenclaw-swot.
Unless you get prefect, then you're disowned.
Dad
Fred had barely finished reading the two sentences when another note was delivered by his mother's owl.
THAT WAS A JOKE! THAT WAS A JOKE!
Dad
Your father's an idiot.
Lots of love,
Mum
The future-prefect grinned as he nibbled the crust of his toast.