A/N: Weasley twins+emotion from said twins equals this writer's fear that they're not quite in character. Then again, George's twin just died, so he's bound to be a little emotional, right? Anyway, I hope you enjoy the story! Thanks so much for reading! Review, please?

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George Weasley stepped up to the podium. He hadn't wanted to say anything, in fact, he'd have been much happier if he'd been left alone in the back row like he wanted, but his father thought that speaking at George's twin brother's funeral would be good for the man that suddenly found himself without a twin.

George stared out blankly into the crowd without an idea in the world of what to say. He hadn't planned any speech or anything, figuring he'd find a way to get out of this, but Arthur Weasley had been unusually adamant about George being the one to speak, and there was no arguing with Arthur on the rare occasions when he got like that. George scanned the crowd without really taking the time to focus on anyone. A sea of red hair in the first two rows, dotted at random with one white-blonde head, one brown head, and one black told George that that was where his family was sitting, along with Fleur, the wife of George's oldest brother, Bill, Hermione Granger, the girlfriend of George's youngest brother, Ron, and Harry Potter, the boyfriend of George's only sister Ginny, and Ron's best friend. Like he said; family. They just didn't have the Weasley red hair is all.

George still didn't have the foggiest idea what to say, and was beginning to feel like an idiot standing up here. He seriously considered the idea of running off the stage, but he'd just end up feeling guilty for not coming through on the promise he made to his father he'd talk at the funeral, and get coddled by his mother, for she would think that it was immense sadness at his twin's death that made him incapable of speaking, and as such, coddle him more then she already had been, neither of which he felt like dealing with, so it'd be easier all around if he stayed here and dealt with his lack of words on the death of his very best friend in the world. 'Some very best friend' a voice in his head told him wickedly 'One that doesn't even cry when his very best friend dies?' A horrible wrench of guilt pulled in his gut at this. It was true, he hadn't cried at all since he found out Fred was dead, and it killed him nearly as much as learning his twin brother was dead had. 'You could talk about that' he mused, but quickly dismissed it. That was way too personal to talk about in front of a whole bunch of people like this.

'What would Fred do if he were in my place?' George wondered. What would Fred do if the roles were reversed and George was the one lying in this casket and Fred were up here? But in thinking about Fred, instead of thoughts about what Fred would speak of at George's funeral, George's mind was instead flooded with about a million memories of close to two decades of mischief, chaos, and just general fun. Playing Quidditch, pulling pranks on Percy, the time they'd sent Harry the toilet seat when he was in the hospital wing of Hogwarts, opening their joke shop, all the delicious tricks they'd pulled on Umbridge before finally flying out of Hogwarts forever. Forever. Or so they'd thought...Two years later, the twins had found themselves at Hogwarts again, but not for learning this time. The two had come in to fight, but only one had walked out. They'd always had each other's back. Until then. Who was at George's back now? And suddenly, George knew what to say…

"Fred was my twin brother" George paused at this absurd, and highly obvious statement and chuckled slightly. His first laugh since Fred had died… "Well, isn't that a dumb statement? Of course Fred was my twin, we look…looked exactly alike. I still can't get over that. Looked. Past tense. We've done everything together since we were born. Past tense...That's not supposed to apply to only one of us. But of course Fred was my twin, we only looked alike, talked alike, finished each other's sentences. It was said you almost never saw one of us without the other and it was true too. Almost nobody could tell us apart, not even our mum" George glanced out into the audience to see Molly Weasley smiling at him through her tears in the front one. This gave George the confidence to continue. "Part of that was our own fault. We always loved dressing alike and switching places to mess with people's heads. That was our hobby, our lives' work, messing with people. I don't know how many times someone, usually Mum, would call one of us by the right name and we'd insist we were the other one long enough to make her feel guilty, then wait til we were out of reach to laughingly admit that she'd had it right all along.

We've never been apart, Fred and I. Sure, he's been on this side of the room, I've been on that one; he's been in that class, I've been on this one; he's been in one room, I've been in another, but we've never been actually physically apart, an actual long distance from the other. Always in shouting distance we were. Always confident in the fact we'd be together again soon like we hadn't been apart even for that time. Always confident we'd have the other's back if we needed it. But the night he died, we weren't at each other's back. I was with our friend Lee, he was with our brother Percy. I was on one floor, he was on another. Not within shouting distance. I didn't have his back.

It was a security thing at first when we were little. My mum's going to get mad at me for this, and it's probably an awkwardly disgusting story, but Fred and I always found amusement in it, so I'm going to tell it now. Mum told us a story once that when Fred and I were in the womb, we were lying back to back and when we were first born and in the same crib, we'd always be lying back to back. Then we grew out of the crib, much to our annoyance, and put into two separate beds, but Mum always said til we were about 6, she'd come to wake us up in the morning and find us in the same bed lying back to back. We grew out of that eventually, but it became an unspoken thing where we knew that Fred would always have my back, and I'd have his no matter what. We'd always support each other, and we'd always be there for each other. But that night, I didn't have his back and my twin brother, my very best friend in the entire world is dead. We joked, laughed, worked, played, invented, always together. Back-to-back like we always have. Like we thought we always would be. Now we don't have that. I don't have that. And I have no idea what to do." With that, George stepped off the stage to stunned silence, exactly what he'd expected after practically admitting guilt in the death of his brother, guilt he hadn't even been fully aware he felt. Only stopping briefly to place a hand on the casket that held his dead twin, he walked into his house, without a backwards glance.

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George spent the rest of the day in his room, lying on Fred's bed. He was probably wrinkling his dress robes, but he could care less, even though he knew his mum would have his head later. The Weasleys had had a gathering in memory of Fred after they had buried him on the bottom of the hill nearby their house, beyond which, they used to practice Quidditch. Even when they hadn't been playing Quidditch, the twins had spent countless hours there, weather-permitting, plotting new pranks to play on their siblings and, as they got older, was one of their favorite places outside their room to create new ideas for their joke shop, only but a mere dream in the early days. George hadn't attended the party. Countless people had come upstairs to look in on him, probably either to express their condolences or make sure he was all right after his abrupt departure from his twin's funeral. He had ignored them all, his entire family, along with Harry, Hermione, and Fleur, as well as Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, and Katie Bell, members of the twins' former Quidditch team at Hogwarts, all coming up in small groups, trying to talk to him, figure out if he was awake or not, and murmuring amongst themselves, asking each other if they reckoned he was awake. He ignored them all and kept on faking sleep. Even Professor Minerva McGonagall, head of house of the twins' former house, Gryffindor, and the new Headmistress of Hogwarts had come up to see him. He hadn't 'woken up' for her either, even though, in a kind gesture he would have thought impossible for the usually stern Transfiguration master, she had brushed his ginger hair away from his face with the lightest touch of her fingertips, and, almost as if knowing that the lone twin wasn't asleep, said in a quiet voice that though she had always had to be tough on him and his twin when they got caught at their characteristic mischief at school, she'd had a tougher time waiting until they had left the room, a detention, or some other punishment each, until she could laugh at their latest escapade. Despite the pleasure that George had felt, knowing that the tricks he and Fred had pulled during their years at Hogwarts had secretly amused the teacher they had thought as strict as Snape (until the year Umbridge showed up that is), he still remained 'asleep', not wanting to talk to anybody.

It was now nighttime. The guests had long gone and George had spent a while listening to the sounds of his family (plus Harry and Hermione, who had been spending nights at the Burrow, as they frequently had since they were in their early years at Hogwarts, though unbeknownst to Molly Weasley, with Harry sleeping in the same bed as Ginny and Hermione with Ron), gradually bid each other good night and wander up the stairs, some with one last glance in at George, who still pretended to be asleep, the prospect of talking to anyone no more inviting than it had earlier, before departing for their own rooms.

George hadn't been joking when he said at the end of his speech he had no idea what to do now that Fred was gone. Now that even so much as leaving his room held no interest for him. The idea of opening the joke shop again was painful because it had been with Fred he had plotted to open it, Fred with which he had invented every single solitary item in there, and Fred with which he had worked day after day to make sure everything they created sold well, and kept their beloved business going. Now the idea of even setting one foot inside the store made George sick to his stomach. Even the simple act of making jokes or playing pranks on someone, things George had done his entire life, held no appeal to George. How could he, knowing that his partner in crime, the one he could always count on to pick up on a joke immediately and take part in without hesitation was no longer around to tag team with? What did you do when the person you did everything with for your entire life was no longer around and the thought of doing what you used to do without him made you want to curl up into a little ball and die yourself?

And why couldn't he cry? Why did the fact that he hadn't yet, not even after his speech (which had actually had the opposite effect his dad had been hoping for), make him feel like his feelings of sadness and pain and anger at the death of his own twin brother were almost fake somehow? George Weasley had gone close to twenty years without crying at all, save those times when he was a baby and couldn't help it, so why the hell did it seem so damned important now?!

George Weasley curled into the little ball he had been just thinking of, but instead of dying, he began to shake almost violently with anger and sadness, wishing with every fiber of his being, that he were dead too. That's what he wanted to do. The one thing he wanted more than anything in the world, the only thing that held interest for lone twin was to die. All he wanted was to be with his Fred again.

"Stop being such a prat" said a voice, as familiar to him as his own. George sat bolt upright in bed.

"Freddie?" George whispered, hardly daring to believe it, but it was true. Fred Weasley, his twin, his very best friend in the entire world, sat at the end of his own bed, grinning happily.

George studied the features of the young man sitting at the end of his bed for a moment, with features exactly identical to his own, save this man having two ears, while George having just one, before launching himself at Fred, wrapping his arms around his twin in the most violent, bone-crushing hug the world had ever seen "FREDDIE!" George yelled ecstatically "Merlin, I've missed you!" he held his brother close.

"I've missed you too, Georgie, but it's gonna hafta stay that way for a while" Fred held George equally as close for another minute, before gently detaching his twin from him, completing the pair of names the twins had called each other as children.

George stared at his twin in shock, the dead weight feelings of pain, anger and sadness that he'd felt since finding out his twin was dead, back times two. "Whaddya mean?"

"What I mean is…bro, I'm dead" Fred whispered, as kindly as he could for his twin's sake "I'm not coming back, not cause I don't want to…Merlin, not cause I don't want to, Georgie, but cause I can't." Fred put an arm around George, but George shook it off immediately and, in one fluid motion, climbed back to the head of the bed, leaned against it, crossed his arms and glared at his twin, fixing him with the evilest look either twin had ever given the other for their entire, until then, shared lives.

"Why come back at all then?!" George said nastily, his temper way up.

Fred, always as much of a loose canon as George, and with just as much of a short temper, shouted back "Because you're being a git!" stunning his twin into silence. "Because I hate seeing you like this, Georgie" Fred continued, in a much quieter tone, noticing George's hurt expression. The twins seldom fought, but when they did, it only took two explosions of temper, and one twin with hurt feelings before they made up and were the best of friends again, and this time was no exception. "I hate seeing you like this, Georgie…" Fred crept up from the end of the bed to sit next to his twin. He placed an arm around George once again, but this time, George let it stay. "I hate seeing you all mad at the world and blocking everybody out. It's not like you, George. Where'd my partner in crime, my cohort in mischief, my collaborator in silliness go?" Fred teased lightly, but George didn't smile. He looked back at his twin seriously.

"He died when mine did"

The smile was quickly wiped off Fred's face at this. He rubbed at his eyes with his free hand, before looking at George again "George…you can't do this…"

"And why not?" George demanded "What would you do if I were dead, Fred?"

"Hey that rhymed" Fred smiled, but it quickly vanished again when George didn't join him "I'd probably do the same thing you're doing. Kick, scream, cry, hide from the world…but I would also hope that you would care enough to come back just once, tell me I'm being more of a prat than Percy was when he left and tell me to get on with my life" Fred finished his thought, at George's look of smugness when Fred first admitted he'd be behaving the same way George had been, which wiped the smirk off George's face.

"I'm not that bad, am I?" George said, shocked. Fred merely nodded. "But…Freddie, I don't want to get on with my life, I don't want to go to work, acting like I've never had a twin, let alone he was the one I started the joke shop with. Freddie, I want my twin…"

Fred closed his eyes and pulled his brother closer to him "Merlin, Georgie, you should know me well enough to know that that's what I want more than anything too, but that's not the way it can be. I never said get on with your life and forget I ever existed. I'm still your twin, whether I'm here or not, just stop lying here letting life pass you by is all I'm saying. Leaving our shop closed, ignoring Mum and Dad and everyone, lying up here like some crazed invalid or something. Stop all that. You'll just make yourself crazy and miserable wishing for something that can't happen and I can't bear to think of you like that. You're my twin brother, my very best friend, what hurts you hurts me, just like it always has. Meaning I'm not only dead, but I'm feeling you mourn me too, and that just won't do"

George chuckled weakly, and Fred smiled. "There we go. There's my twin's laugh" For some reason, this made George laugh harder, which in turn made Fred begin to laugh and both twins had the same thought at the same time, and of course, spoke it at the same time…

"Merlin, it feels good to laugh with you…" Fred and George grinned at each other.

"Seriously, George, sure, I'm gone, but you're still here. Our legacy of mayhem and insanity lives on through you. So no more acting like Snape if a dementor sucked out his soul, kay? You've gotta joke, laugh, plot, and tease for two now. You've gotta keep our shop up and running. It's up to you, George Weasley, to create new joke items for everybody to love. And most importantly, it's up to you to keep Mum, Dad, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Ron, Ginny, Fleur, Harry, Hermione and everyone else happy. Remind them they've only lost one son, one brother, one friend, not two, think you can handle that, George?"

George smiled and leaned his head against his brother's "I can. I'm doing it for you"

Fred smiled an identical smile. "Excellent. The Weasley twins live on!" he cried, insanely.

"We may be only one in body, but there will always be two!" chimed in George, just as insanely.

"To mischief and mayhem!"

"Chaos and confusion!"

"Insanity!"

"Silliness!"

"And just plain fun!" The twins finished the rant they'd come up with off the top of their identical heads, together before collapsing in laughter like lunatics.

After about five minutes of wild laughter, Fred stood up. George watched him, the feeling of loss dropped into the pit of his stomach again, though, not nearly as heavy and paralyzing as before.

"D'you really have to go?"

"I can't stay" Fred looked at George sadly.

"I know that, just…until you really have to?" George trailed off and simply looked at his twin. As always, Fred understood his twin completely. Wordlessly, George lay down on Fred's bed, turning to his left side. He felt the weight as Fred sat, lay down beside him, turning to his right side, so the twins were back to back, just like they had always done as children. The pressure of his brother's back against his comforted George like it always had and George felt positive that Fred felt the same. They also did something else they had done as children, and even beyond that; soon the room filled with conversation...

"Hey, what's with this obsession over you and crying, George? Just because you don't cry cause I'm dead doesn't mean you missing me is any less fake. I wouldn't like you to cry, anyhow. Makes me a bit uncomfortable, really. Bit awkward for a man to be crying over another, wouldn't you think?"

"Very awkward, Fred. I won't worry about crying anymore"

"Good. So, McGonagall really found us amusing all these years, did she, George?"

"She really did, Fred. Isn't that great?"

"Very much excellent. By the way, do me a favor and stop blaming yourself. It was nobody's fault and you know it, George. A stray Avada Kedavra and a wall collapsing. Coulda happened to anyone. You being there wouldn't have changed a damned thing"

"Yes, Fred"

"And stop thinking just because you weren't there doesn't mean you failed having my back. You've always had my back, just like I've always had yours. Always have and always will, George"

"Always, Fred and always will"

"Oh and get off my damned bed, George. I'd like to think I'm still remembered in some way in this family"

"I will, Fred"

The twins were silent. Then… "I love you, Freddie"

"I love you too, Georgie"

"I'll miss you"

"I'll miss you too"

"Every day…"

"…and every night"

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George woke up, still on his left side. He didn't need to feel behind him to know Fred was gone. And he was okay with that.

The sun was shining brightly into the twins' window, for this would always be the twins room no matter how many years passed since Fred's death. George got up with the intention of closing the shade, blocking out the light, but he didn't. One light had already gone out, he didn't need any more. Instead he went downstairs, surprising his entire family as he sat down in his, not Fred's, chair at the table and began chattering away about nothing.

George Weasley would always feel the death of his twin brother for as long as he lived, but it was with Fred's help that George realized that yelling and anger were not the ways to deal with it. Laughing and joking and going on with his life, the way that he and Fred had always planned it was what made George feel closest to his twin. He never cried. Not once. And he was okay with that.

"The Weasley twins live on!"

"We may be only one in body, but there will always be two!"

"You've always had my back, just like I've always had yours. Always have and always will"