SPOILER WARNING!!!

This fanfic was my way of consoling myself after finishing book seven. Fred and George were my absolute favourites, and I was really devastated (and I am still...) when Fred died. I suppose I've developed a somewhat unhealthy obsession with them over the years. This story just came to me, and I didn't even think when I wrote it down. It was kind of... magical ;)

I hope that it will serve as a consolation to at least some of the Gred and Forge fans out there.

As this is my first fanfic EVER, I'd love to get loads of comments, positive as well as negative! And I apologize if I've made some grammatical mistakes. English is not my native language after all, but I did my best.

Rest in peace, Fred Weasley, you will always live on in our hearts. This is my tribute to you, and to George.

She had reached page 512, and she had read the words printed in black on the white paper. Still, she could not believe it. He could not be gone. And she was unable to continue reading, the ending was not interesting to her anymore. They might as well all die, now that he was gone.

Just as hot, salty tears had begun to find their way down her cheeks, the door opened, and she was told that it was time for dessert. She joined her family in the living room, ate her pineapple slices with cream without tasting the fruit, trying to ignore her parents' comments.

"It's just a book," they said, "you know it's not real life!"

They could not understand. She had grown up with the books, and him and his brother had a very special place in her heart. Their pranks and jokes had brought smiles upon her face, even when she was sad, and her love for them had grown into what you might call an obsession. Now, one of them was gone, and her pain was almost as real as if he had been a real person. The pain she felt was like a knife stabbing her stomach, over and over again, a hand strangling her. Tears were blurring her eyesight, and her family's voices seemed to reach her ears from a distance.

Her hand trembled as she put the empty bowl in the sink, and she felt so weak, walking back into her room and sitting down on her bed. It could not be true. He could not be gone, and he would surely wake up in the next chapter! He had to! She forced herself to continue reading, hoping, with all her heart, that he would come back to life. But his family surrounded his body, and he did not open his eyes. And she read the rest of the book, not even caring about the other deaths, feeling quite indifferent when she read the part where Voldemort was defeated. She was numb inside. All she could think of was the dead body of a red-haired boy, his twin kneeling beside his head.

When she closed the book, something burst inside her, and she cried violently with her face buried in her pillow, struggling not to scream out loud. She tried to tell herself what her parents had told her a few minutes ago. It was just a book. It was not real. Fiction. But to her it was painfully real. A close friend had died in her bedroom that night. She wanted to forget all about it, and she wished that she was a witch; then she would have erased the memory from her mind. But she was, obviously, unable to do that. Tears continued to wet her pillow, and all she wanted to do was to fall asleep, but it seemed impossible…

"Hey, wake up!"

She had fallen asleep after all, and now she was awaken by that voice…

"I need to talk to you."

She realised that it wasn't her mother, nor her father, nor her little brother who was talking to her. She sat up. A red-haired boy was sitting on her bed, and she knew that she must be dreaming. Such a silly, stupid dream!

The boy smiled slightly and said

"You must stop crying for me."

She opened her mouth to answer, but she was unable to speak, no sound escaped her.

"I'm doing fine you know," he said softly, "I have never feared death, and I knew what I was risking that night. And I knew that I had to fight. I did not die in vain, you know. Tom Riddle, or Voldemort as he called himself, was defeated, and that's the only thing that matters."

Finally, she managed to speak, although it came out as a faint whisper.

"Your brother-"

"-He's alright! He was devastated of course, just as I would have been if I was in his shoes. We were inseparable, as you must know, and we did everything together. But he knew that I wouldn't forgive him if he didn't move on with his life."

"The shop," she whispered.

"Yes, he's running the shop now, it's quite prosperous – although, if I was there to help him, it would have been even more successful, of course," said Fred, smiling.

To her own surprise, she found herself laughing. His eyes met hers and she said

"It's really you."

"Of course it's me!" He was still smiling, "I could not let you cry like that, hour after hour, you know. I was afraid you'd never stop, actually."

"I will stop now," she said, "but how do I know that this is really happening, that I'm not dreaming?"

"You don't."

He took her hand, and when she felt his skin against hers, she knew.

Fred winked mischievously, and then he had disappeared.

She would never cry for him again.