The Mind's Eye
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and it's characters all belong to J.K Rowling, only the story-line belongs to me
I've always had a love for the Weasley twins and this concept came to me when my mind was thinking about them for about the hundreth time this week - so I had to get it down.
I hope you enjoy it x
How can one ever be able to move on – if they are unwilling to let go?
One year.
One year since a life-long partnership had been cut in two.
For everyone else it was a year since the Dark Lord had finally been vanquished and the opportunity for real, normal life had begun – but for a lone half, it had been the idea of a start of a bleak existence.
The first week of George's new life had been so raw and painful that it hadn't had the ability to become a memory; from the second that his gaze had latched onto the sight of his embodied reflection among the rubble of the great hall, to the chime of a clock that had brought his mind back into focus and fazed the scenery of their bedroom into his eyes.
There was no recollection of those seven days.
The second week had played out with the expected depression; he'd refused to eat, sleep, talk or live. His behaviour had been ignored by the rest of the family as they had all been going through exactly the same emotions; it was the first time that the Weasley bin had been full to the brim with untouched meals.
But what they'd also not realised that week was how close they had been to losing the second twin.
It was the time in the early hours of the morning where the residents of the Burrow had fallen into the state of deep sleep so that the muffled sobs no longer existed; George was well in-touch with this routine as he'd listened to it during every one of his sleepless nights.
The pain that shadowed him each long-drawn second had a ferocity that he could never have believed was possible until that cursed day. He couldn't bring himself to do anything, the sense of half of his soul missing made him feel physically sick and it hurt knowing exactly why he was suffering in such a way.
His twin had been everything to him; his brother, best friend, comforter, parent.
If he was ill, Fred was the one he'd go to first.
If he had a nightmare, Fred would be the one comforting him.
If he needed some girl advice, Fred would be the one to give it.
If he began to let his anger over-take him, Fred would be the one to calm him down.
Fred had known everything about him and knew just how to respond to anything George threw at him; which had been vice versa.
There were many things that the twins knew about one another that not even their parents were aware of; like how George had anger issues and released his pending rage on a battered muggle punch bag supplied to him by his other half after he began to get into a debt through the amount of ornaments he was breaking. Or how Fred was allergic to pumpkin juice so would always silently transfigure it into apple juice, which George would copy just in-case he ever accidently drank from his glass.
In a way they had been strangers to everyone but each other and now George didn't know what was left for him in the world; this was the thought that had been sitting in his head as he twirled Fred's wand between his fingers.
One spell and he'd be back with his twin, just one painless killing curse and the jagged cut in his soul would be healed. He knew it was a wimpish choice and it was something that the old him would never have contemplated; but that George had been a full being, this George was a reflection of what had once been through a broken mirror.
Slowly raising the wand to his temple he couldn't even bring himself to care about his family who would find his body in the morning, the loss they'd feel would still be less than half of what he was currently living through.
The words formed in his head and his eyes-lids drooped as his lips began to from the first syllables, "Avada…
Lacking a bit of flare for the death of a Weasley twin don't you think?
George stifled a scream and the wand dropped to the floor as its owners voice sounded in the dark room.
"Fred?" He gasped, his eyes tearing around the room in hope to see an identical copy of himself lurking in the corner.
The one and only.
His throat was closing in on itself but he managed to choke out, "Is it really you?"
It's me Georgie.
The soft tone that he heard only when he was awoken from the most terrifying nightmares proved that it was undeniably his twin; a strangled laugh escaped his mouth and he jumped from the bed, swinging his hands around the room waiting to feel them bump into his brother.
"Where are you?" George begged, becoming more panicked as he failed to find his twin.
Hold on there – crashing around in the dark isn't going to do you any good. I'm not actually physically here… more mentally.
George's arms fell to his side as if weights had just been attached to them and his demeanour began to draw back into its pained expression, "You're still dead."
No! Well kind of – it's a bit confusing. Basically it seems that my consciousness has moved into your head… I've been here since I died – or when my body died – it took an effort to get your attention, your depression really creates a barricade for my attempts at contact.
The bed creaked as George fell back onto it, fresh tears running down his face, "I'm sorry," he whispered.
Don't be turning all self-blaming on me Georgie, don't you dare feel bad for being broken – you don't think I'd be feeling exactly the same if our positions were reversed? I'm just glad I got through to you before you ruined our reputation.
The first hint of a smile melted onto George's features as he replied, "It wasn't really the most inventive way of leaving was it?"
Try the most original way, our little sister's boyfriends already done that route twice-fold – can't be having one of the Weasley twins copying the-boy-who-is-too-stubborn-for-his-own-good.
A lost laugh emitted at Fred's unique way of handling the more serious topics whilst still managing to cheer him up, only he could ever help George in a situation like this, nobody else would understand it, "Oh the shame of such an idea! His head's big enough to last two life-times already."
Which is why continuing to live would be the best way to make sure such a thing never happened.
The smile jolted on George's face and his tone drew back to resemble how he would sound as a child when a storm would frighten him, "I can't do that without you Freddie."
You won't have to… I'm right here. I may not be physically in front of you but I am here with you all the same, whenever you need me.
George closed his eyes as his twin's gentle voice reassured him but he could still feel fear in his heart, "What about in public – how can you be with me then? They'll lock me away if I start talking to myself and they wouldn't believe that you were real!"
Really! Supposedly being on the same intellectual level as me I'd have thought that you would have worked out that if I'm in your mind - you can just reply to me through your thoughts.
A sheepish grin etched onto his face at the comment, oh… yeah.
See it's these moments that allow the truth of me being the better half to exist.
More it gives you the opportunity to create the lie.
Hey! I only lie when absolutely necessary.
Which is always according to you, unless –
It involves mum –
Because then –
We're simply –
Giving an alternative version of an incident that can't be accurately remembered as it involves two different witnesses!
The voices mingled together in George's head at the end and he laughed along with his brother; it seemed that his new life might not be so bad after all.
Come on George, you should get some sleep now – I promise I'll still be here when you wake up, but seriously you need to get some, you look an absolute mess!
Suddenly feeling the ropes of fatigue winding around him, George followed his twin's instructions and slipped under the covers of Fred's bed; the darkness in his body dimming to a light grey as the knowledge that his other half wasn't dead.
Night Gred.
Sleep well Forge.
George's behaviour didn't noticeably change after that night, he was still silent and gazed with a vacant eye, but the reasoning behind his actions had altered. Whereas before his lack of response was due to the missing desire to live, now it was because he was spending all of his time talking to his re-found twin; George had always enjoyed Fred's company above the rest of his family and in their time of mourning it wasn't as if the Weasley's were being ones for interesting companionship.
As he had watched his siblings tears and parents cries, George had wondered about telling them that their grief was un-needed, but Fred quickly turned him away from the idea.
They won't believe you, and even if they did – it's not as if they'd be able to talk to me so it would simply upset them further knowing that I'm here yet not able to communicate.
So George kept the new form of his twin a secret, engulfing himself in their new private world within the depths of his mind.
The third week was when the family began to note George's empty shell attitude; they had all started to continue with normal routine, meals were eaten and jobs were attended. Conversation was flowing once more and smiles could be seen again, even if they were slightly more subdued than they'd once been.
"But it wasn't until twelve hours later that somebody went to tell the poor lad that he was waiting for a male dragon to give birth!" Charlie finished, smirking at the memory of the new trainee huddled under his cloak in the rain with his eyes frantically trained on the overweight Welsh Green.
The rest of the Weasley's chuckled at the story; everyone spread out across the living room. It had become a new unspoken tradition for the family to spend each evening by the crackle of the fire in each-others company, recalling memories from their individual lives and creating that tighter bond as they learnt more about one another; desiring the sense of family more than ever during the time of grief.
Ginny looked over from where she was wrapped up in Harry's side to the corner of the room where George was sat perfectly still on the floor, staring into the dancing flames.
"Remember that time Charlie convinced you that a giant stalk delivered the baby dragons George?" She tenderly asked, it being her unofficial turn to try and coax the twin into the conversation.
The occupants of the room all poorly subtly glanced to the member of the family who had yet to pass one syllable over his lips since the day of the battle, Bill, who was placed in the chair nearest George leant over and gave him a soft playful punch on the arm, "Yeah you badgered me about the fact for a full hour as soon as he told you."
The pleading strain in his tone could still be heard under his jovial voice and Fleur placed a comforting hand that wasn't holding Victorie on her husband's leg.
They do realise that it was me who Charlie told the dragon lie to? Fred amusingly commented; they enjoyed these evenings where they'd spend their time teasing each of their family members.
I think half of the supposed memories they have about me are actually about you.
I always knew I was the more memorable twin.
Most of them include you getting into trouble.
Knew I was the more adventourous as well.
Ha! That's a lie – remember that time when…
But the playful bickering went by unknown and the silence after Bill's comment was like a thick blanket suffocating the room as George showed no sign of being aware that he was being talked to, he remained frozen in place, only the shallow movement of his chest showing that he was still alive.
Like every other night the family allowed the silence to thrive for at least ten seconds to give the twin an opportunity to reply, but also like every night no reply came and Hermione switched the topic to one of her early childhood memories as she comfortingly squeezed Ron's hand; the evening carrying on but with slight more force and the added moist in Mrs Weasley's eyes.
The fourth week was when the family decided that it was time that they intervened in George's grief, worrying for his health as his bones began to show through his skin and his hollow eyes started to sink into his face.
"George Gideon Weasley nobody is leaving this table until you eat something!" The furious voice of Molly Weasley rang out; her face violently flushed and tears trickling down her cheeks showing the pain and fear that had manifested into anger.
Ron, Ginny, Percy and Charlie all glanced up from their plates in reaction to their mother's broken scold and threw each-other awkward looks, subtly shifting in their seats as the urge to escape the beginning of an emotional scene came over them as the sight of their mother crying had never become any easier to witness despite the amount of times it had occurred. On the other hand, Harry seemed to be having an internal battle on whether to go and try to comfort his surrogate mother; but Arthur took the need for a decision from him.
"Molly dear, I'm sure George will eat when he feels hungry," he soothed, though his strained features showed that he didn't believe his words.
The hysterical mother slapped away her husband's hands that tried to lead her back into her chair, "No he won't! He hasn't eaten in weeks – such a way that I don't understand how he can still be with us!" Her voice had now cracked and tears were thickly running down her face, the distress within her so prominent that Harry did rush from Ginny's side and clasp her hand while gently rubbing her back as she collapsed into her seat, "He isn't even aware that we're talking about him! I've lost one son… but – I can't help but feel that I've lost two…"
Her final words came out as a whisper, as if they'd accidently slipped from an inner thought and a quiet sniffle sounded from Ginny, who was curled under the arm of a teary eyed Hermione.
George still gave no response to the emotions around him, there was a time when the faintest whimper from his little sister would have thrown him into the comforting brother mode, but it seemed that reactions like that were now only memories.
Charlie watched as his mother and youngest sister cried and a flare of rage over-flooded his mind, as the second eldest he felt a responsibility for his siblings and parents and although it was killing him to see his younger brother in such a state, he couldn't allow him to continue hurting the family; they'd all lost Fred as well – he wasn't the only one grieving!
Shoving his plate across the table Charlie strode over to the twin with the glazed expression and plonked into the seat next to him; grabbing the untouched fork he forcefully pushed it into George's right hand and wrenched his head around to force him to look at his elder brother, "Eat now! I know you're upset and are finding it hard to cope – but we've all lost Fred! I realise he was your twin so you were a lot closer to him than us but that doesn't mean you can't continue to live without him – you are your own person! You are George Weasley and you have your own life to live… but this isn't how to live it – Fred would have wanted you to do more than this."
Charlie let out a small sigh of relief as he witnessed George's gaze fade so that he was actually looking at him; the twin slowly tilted his head to look at the fork now in his hand before lifting it back up to observe his brother's anticipating face.
His eyebrows drew into a frown and he gave Charlie a glare of disbelief, then in one swift movement he grabbed his full plate and stormed from the room; the clatter of footsteps on the stairs echoing throughout the house followed by the slam of the twin's bedroom door.
Charlie watched his younger brother disappear upstairs and as the crash of the door sounded he turned and gave his mother a reassuring smile, it was the first reaction George had given and it had included him willingly taking food with him; it was a start.
How dare he have the nerve to tell me such things! George shouted, chucking his plate onto the pile of used crockery from his late night meals that Fred had convinced him to start taking.
They were quite contradicting orders, his twin agreed.
Contradicting! George exclaimed throwing the fork that had still been clasped in his right hand across the room; I'm left handed for goodness sake! You're right-handed! How can they tell me that I'm my own person if they can't even treat me as such! Don't they understand that we're one person together? It's proven by the fact that half of the things they think about me are actually about you!
George I need you to breathe; deep breaths – remember what we said about not letting your anger control you.
The calming tone made George realise that he had picked up their desk chair in his rant and had it held behind his head, aimed straight for the window. Slowly releasing a long sweep of air through his mouth he gently placed the legs of the chair back onto the ground; slouching onto it with his head in his hands.
Sorry… I – I haven't gotten like that in a while.
Don't worry about it mate, you are going through a bit of baggage at the moment – I think you can be allowed to Hulk it out once in a while.
George chuckled at the reference; I still never understood that muggle film.
How could you not? It was just a man who would turn into a huge raging green monster every now and then, it was like –
A male version of mum whenever we'd blow something up with our experiments, George ended, already sensing that the red fury had slipped away with his twin's effortless input.
A light pause clouded George's mind and he was aware of what Fred wanted to say to him.
I like how it is now, he whispered with the tone of a small child, trying to argue with the point before it was worded.
But you know that getting back to your normal act will appease them all, Fred pressed, and if you're behaviour is less attention-drawing then there'll be less of a chance of you letting slip about me when another Charlie-like-incident happens. Plus you need to do some real living Georgie.
The twins shoulders slumped at his brother's le-way request, he knew that his attitude was selfish as it was clearly hurting the rest of his family but when he wrapped himself solely in Fred, blocking out the rest of the world as reality; it felt as if his twin was actually physically with him, rather than just in his mind. He worried that if he allowed himself to get drawn back into the solid life, he would lose Fred again.
Please…
The soft whisper sent a tear down George's cheek and he bit hard on his lip, willing himself to make the agreement; if not for himself, then for Fred.
I'll do my best.
The fifth week brought back the signs of the 'old' George to his family; even though it was a completely different version of the person he had once been. He participated in the evening memories, never telling his own but cutting in to make small jibes or comments at other's stories, which was enough to make Molly Weasley's face crack from the smile of delight gracing her features.
Also in the eyes of the Weasley's he began to eat again; although in actual fact he just switched to eating his meals at the same time as the family rather than sneaking them upstairs in the late hours of the night.
He had perfected his outward façade, allowing it to show the precise companion to his answer of 'I'm fine' when that stupid generic question was asked of him; his siblings were becoming less wary around him and his parent's gaze lingered on him for shorter periods of time. He could freely speak to Fred even when in company but as the days went on he found himself being pulled further and further into the solid world as he tried to keep up with his game of pretence and in so, further away from his twin.
The eighth week was when George had a terrible realisation that spurred him onto a new path.
"Hey, um… George?" Ron called to his brother who was currently cradling his hand from where a grumpy gnome had just taken a snap at him, they'd been trying to de-gnome the garden for the past hour but to not much avail.
The twin glanced up and smirked, the bright redness of his little brother's face showed too clearly exactly what the topic of his question was going to be about, "Yes?" He eagerly drew out.
Keeping his gaze firmly on the ground Ron missed the tone promising a long teasing session and continued, "Well – you see me and Hermione, we've been dating for 2 months now and I haven't taken her out on – like – a proper date yet…. So I was wondering if – well if you had any good suggestions for somewhere – you know, to go."
George couldn't hold back his laugh any longer and let it rip through the air, he'd been waiting for a perfect opportunity to take full mocking advantage out of Ron's new love life and it had just been handed to him on a platter.
"Aww, little Ronniekins is all grown up! I'm so proud!" George gushed, wiping a pretend tear from his eye, "Why when I just think of all those times in the common room where we'd be tortured with hours of your romantic whining about – "
The twin stopped his sentence, automatically waiting for Fred to finish it off as the moments of teasing Ron about his precious Hermione had always been one of their highlights; but no voice came.
Fred? George began to panic, forgetting that Ron was still waiting for him to finish his sentence, but he was also waiting for it to be finished; so where was his twin?
A painful thought suddenly hit him, he couldn't actually remember when he had last spoken to Fred or when his twin had made a comment about something in a conversation he was having; the past few weeks he'd been trying so hard to act normal and live, he'd forgotten about the person who had requested him to do those things in the first place!
Feeling moisture welling up in his eyes he roughly pushed past his worried brother and ignored his shouts, racing back into the house he tore up to their room and slammed the door behind him.
Fred! Fred! Fred! How could he ignore his twin like this, how could he do that? He needed his other half to be able to live, it was always them together and that couldn't change.
Fred!
Woah George, you're going to give us both a headache if you carry on like that, well you'll give yourself a headache – seeing as I don't actually have a head to ache.
I'm so sorry! I'm so so sorry… tears were now streaming down his face as he curled into himself on Fred's bed, I'm sorry –
What? You haven't got anything to be sorry about Georgie, you were living, getting better – there's nothing wrong with that.
I forgot you! He screamed, feeling sick at his actions.
No – you didn't forget me you just didn't talk to me. And there's nothing wrong with that – we're part of separate worlds now; you not needing to talk to me is good – it shows that you can live without me.
But George violently shook his head at his twin's logical explanation, hating what he was saying, no – no! I need you if I want to live properly – we're the Weasley twins for goodness sake! There can't be just one of us!
His red eyes snapped open as an idea sprouted in his head, but if I could see you – then I'd never forget you! You'd be right in-front of me and we could talk like normal!
Tearing across the room he flung open the dusty cupboard containing all their old products and books, his eyes began to rack over all the many spells that had been used for so many of their inventions; there had to be some basic schemes that he could use.
George… no – you were getting better… finding your own way…
But the voice was a mere whisper and George ignored it, focusing on the Ton-Tongue-Toffee in his hand; it was old and well gone-off but he could remember how they made it, one main aspect especially, the beauty of the treat had been that it would transport itself back to their pockets after a certain period of time – it was what made for the perfect prank and also meant that no un-used products were wasted.
The concept sparked that inventing section of his mind that had been long lost in his new life and a grin spread over his tear stained face, Fred! That's it! If I use an adaptation of the return spell we used on our beloved Ton-Tongue-Toffees and…
Scouring the room his gaze fell on the murky mirror hidden in the darkest corner, he hadn't used it in his new life and the dust and grime had gathered over it during its abandonment.
He stumbled over his own feet as he scrambled to the mirror, and if I put an adaptation of a summoning charm on this mirror – I could move your consciousness from my head to the glass!
George let out a gleeful laugh and childishly clapped his hands together, it was all perfect!
The sixteenth week brought the two best moments in George's new life.
He'd been careful to not allow his behaviour to alter to a noticeable degree after his planning began, especially as Ron had passed on his odd attitude in the garden so they'd all been watching him with a closer eye. But they were quickly convinced that it had just been a passing quirk; it wasn't as if they didn't all have moments where a wave of sadness or pain swept over them.
As time went on it had become harder to retain his perfect façade for such long periods of time; he was making sure he kept Fred involved in all his conversations whilst spending his nights attempting variation of spell after spell and then ending with yet another failure and spending the rest of the hours re-cleaning the mirror that was going to become Fred's new home. The frustration was harshly grating on him and as the weeks passed even Fred's soothing tone were having difficulty dragging him out of his red areas when even the littlest things got to him.
"Mum can you tell Percy to un-hex this stupid blindfold off me now!" George stiffly asked, his hands shoved in his pockets so that his full family ensemble who had dragged him out of the house at the rise of dawn couldn't see that they were clenched into fists as he restrained himself from lashing out at the brother who had placed the blindfold hex on him.
Keep breathing, whatever it is will be over soon.
I could be working on the spell right now! I don't need this –
Just humour them, they're our family.
Fine!
Molly Weasley didn't notice her son's growing anger and laughed, clinging onto her husband's arm as her excitement threatened to overflow, "Okay Percy, take it off!"
George suddenly found himself blinded by the morning light as the blindfold disappeared and he stumbled back, his eye-lids flickering as they adjusted to the change.
When their destination came into focus he almost lost grip on his anger and through his restraint his voice came out as a whisper, "St Mungos?"
Ginny let out a very uncharacteristic squeal and leapt from Harry's bemused form to grab her brother's hand, "It's for you George! They've made this potion and – "
"Ginevra!" Their mother snapped, clearly wanting the news to be delivered properly; but she quickly reverted back to her excited attitude, "Since the war brought many bodily casualties through dark curses, the healers have been focused on finding a way to strengthen a normal growth potion so that it could be used for more serious injuries."
Arthur placed a hand over his wife's and chimed in, "It's been on-going research but we didn't want to tell you about it until some form of conclusion came –"
"Like when you didn't tell me that mum had a spell that could duplicate Harry's dress robes in fourth year," Ron grumbled, earning a slap of reprimand from his girlfriend.
Bill also gave his little brother a knock over the head before throwing a confused George a smirk, "Basically mate – they can grow your ear back."
Both twins fell silent, and George found his hand pulling up to trace the broken flesh around where his other ear had once been, "They can – grow it back?" He gasped with awe, finding it hard to actually believe what his family was telling him.
"Yeah man! You'll no longer have a lob-sided head!" Charlie laughed, stepping forward and clapping a hand on his shell-shocked brother's shoulder.
"Great-Aunt Muriel will love it," Ron added as he rubbed the back of his pounding head.
George looked around at his grinning family, taking in their joy for his returning limb but the smile and tears that copied onto his own features were only for one reason.
We'll be identical again Freddie!
Then it's a good job I didn't blow my own ear off when you came back missing one.
It'll be just like old times!
It sure will Georgie…
The weight was supposed to take some getting used to and he been told to stay in the hospital bed for the remainder of the day, but as soon as he'd convinced his family to go and get themselves some lunch from the ground floor café and the few nurses had left to tend to their other patients, he'd jumped from the first floor window, landing with a roll and sprinted back towards the Burrow.
Usually he would have just apparated but even he wasn't stupid enough to try such a thing when his body had only just got its old balance back, so he stuck to running in an almost straight line in the direction of his home.
He knew exactly why he needed to get back, while he'd been lying on the hospital bed he'd suddenly realised that his lack of balance due to a lost ear could have been what wasn't allowing his spell to work. It involved having perfect aim as it was important that Fred's consciousness moved directly into the mirror and not just out and about around the room; but now that obstacle had been removed! Now he would get to see Fred again!
Bursting into their room he grabbed the scrap of paper he'd scrawled the spell onto and re-read it, even though he already knew it off by heart; not wanting to waste any-more time he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, slowly raising his wand to his head.
You ready Fred?
As I'll ever be.
Nodding in reply, George focused his mind and quickly shouted, "Resolvisti et evanescere!" before snapping his wand to the mirror and adding, "Speculum accersi!"
Nothing noticeable happened, but then he hadn't expected it to; it wasn't a flashy spell that he was performing just a complicated one.
Fred? He whispered, waiting to see if he got a reply. When none came he cautiously began to creep towards where the polished mirror hung, moving with fear in his posture as the thought that he might have lost Fred all together played with his mind.
But as he stepped in-front of the glass a booming laugh cried from his lips, "Fred! It worked! You're there!"
"It seems I am!" His twin agreed, catching George's laughter, "I'm in a mirror!"
George wiped away a few stray tears and grinned at his brother's shocked expression, "Well that kind of was the idea."
"Yeah I know – I just… I didn't think you'd actually do it Georgie-boy! Now I'm going to have to do something twice as awesome to gain back the clever twin title."
George laughed at the common joke but didn't reply, he hadn't seen Fred for four months! The amount of time only just came to him as he studied the twin he'd been talking to but not looking at for so long. He looked just the same as when he'd last saw him, that twinkle in his eyes, slight crooked grin and bright ginger hair that just tickled the top of his ears, "I can't believe I can see you," George whispered, raising a hand to gently touch the glass where Fred's face lay.
"Well now you can," the mirror twin comfortingly replied, "You'll always be able to see me."
The twenty-fifth week was when George moved back into their flat.
His family didn't question why he'd ran from the hospital after being healed, they all knew that he would have been overwhelmed by the returning of his ear and he'd never really been one for bed-rest.
He'd been ecstatic for those first days, spending nearly all of his time in his room pottering with new inventions and prank ideas; Molly had burst into many a tear at the sight of her little boy returning back to what he loved now that he'd been healed.
None of them knew that the real source of his energy was the return of Fred as a visual aspect; George had jumped straight back into their old ideas now that he had his twin next to him, it brought the joy back into it all.
The one problem he was having was getting used to no longer having his brother's voice in his head, it was an uncomfortable sensation to be having conversations where all he had to focus on was the person talking to him; he'd become used to not hearing the full topic as he'd miss bits and pieces as he would responded to a comment from his twin, but now he was hearing and noticing everything.
"So that's when I thought, if Ms Becking was colour-blind, then of course she wouldn't have been able to respond using the correct coloured form; so I simply set her up with an eye healers appointment and…"
A clatter of cutlery interrupted George's attempt to not fall asleep as he pretended to listen to Percy's work tale and he glanced down at his plate, where Ginny was absent-mindedly scraping her portion of roast potatoes onto his food as she chatted to Hermione.
He frowned at the sight of the vegetables being dropped onto his plate, this wasn't the first time that one of his siblings had shoved some of their unwanted food onto his serving when their mother wasn't looking but he had begun to notice a pattern in what was actually appearing on his plate.
Fred's the one who prefers roast potatoes, I like mash – and last week Charlie switched his broccoli for my swede, which I know Fred hates cause he never understood why it had to be yellow and orange – but it's one of the only vegetables I actually like.
The same sort of pattern had been happening throughout many of his livelihood aspects; a mentioned inside joke that he only knew because he remembered Fred relaying the event to him, more of his apparent childhood memories, small gifts slipped to him with a knowing wink though he had no idea about the significance of the strange pink squishy object that made weird sounds when sat on or why he would want a picture of a mound of dirt with a mole poking out of it; though he was sure Fred would kill himself with laughter if he could be bothered to show him the random objects.
Equally half of these happenings were his childhood stories, jokes that had been shared with him or objects that held significance to his life or humour, but that didn't make the obvious fact that they clearly didn't know anything about him as an individual person any less annoying.
Also his new situation of having to actually listen to every word said to him made him notice how many times the phrase, "You're your own person," was used; it was paraphrased each time it was repeated but the meaning was still there – 'you and Fred were separate people.'
Each time he heard that slice of supposed comfort the urge to hit the speaker became greater and greater; he knew that his twin and him were different but that didn't make them separate people, they were always one being – which was proven by the fact that the very people who were supposed to be closest to him had no idea about his individual likes, dislikes or memories!
"I can't do it anymore Fred! One more roast potato or fake smile as I'm told 'remember that time when you wanted to be a muggle' I will literally kill someone! Cause no, I don't remember ever wanting to be a muggle! I remember you wanting to be one – but not me! And I wouldn't care – I wouldn't care if it didn't all come with the side-note of 'we told you that you were your own person' – cause I'm not! I'm not – I'm part of a whole being with you! And they don't know! They don't know anything!"
George's screams stabbed at the walls, echoing as they bounced off the silencing charms he'd luckily placed around the room; his face was a violent red and his clothes were splashed with his tears, all topped off with his bird's nest hair and ripped clothes. Broken furniture lay strewn across the floor and the wallpaper had scratch marks tearing down it, specks of blood and nails showing who had been the assailant.
Dragging himself off the floor he slammed against the wall holding the mirror, the only corner of the room that was undamaged, and rested his head against the cool glass, taking comfort in the gaze of his twin as he let his breath lower to a normal rate.
"Georgie – you can't let it control you like this…" Fred's voice was a broken whisper, tears shining in his eyes for the state of his twin, "This isn't healthy."
George sighed and pushed himself off the wall, running a hand through his hair, "I know – I know."
There was a brief silence where only the solid twins' breath could be heard, but it was broken by a cautious order, "You need to move back into our flat."
Fear struck through his eyes at Fred's words and he backed away from the mirror, "No – no… I – I can't – I don't want to – "
"George you're on the verge of committing murder here, or at least letting slip the fact that you have anger problems and getting potions shoved down your throat – and we spent too much work hiding that fact for you to let it all go over our oblivious family," The trapped twin sighed, his tone lowering to something that border-lined begging, "Please Georgie – I'm afraid you'll hurt yourself here."
A stray tear slid from George's eye and he ran his hands down his face, groaning at the fact he couldn't refuse his twin when he sounded so desperate, "Fine," he whispered, "Fine I'll go."
Casting their personalised un-penetrable locking charm on the room so he didn't have to bother clearing up his mess, he pocketed both of their wands and carefully un-hooked Fred's mirror from the wall, making sure he had a firm grip on it before he apparated to the home he hadn't entered since the first day of his new life.
The forty-first week made George realise that he wasn't satisfied with his twin being stuck in a mirror.
He'd nearly had his ear re-blown off when his mother had finally found him after no-one could get into their bedroom at the Burrow; including their curse-breaker brother. But the fact that he had moved back into the flat and even begun to tidy up the shop floor in the meaning of re-opening at some point seemed to lessen the scolding; the attack of his angered family had actually ended with him comforting his mum as she sobbed into his shoulder.
Eventually Weasley's Wizards Wheezes opened its doors again with much hassling on Fred's part and with it came floods of customers; George had considered finally revealing his twin's existence when he was faced with the idea of having to run the front on his own, but something told him that it wouldn't be a good decision so instead he settled for hiring a handful of floor staff.
As his shop life went on through the weeks an ache started to pull at his chest; he hadn't realised how painful it would be to stand and sell in a place where there should be two, not one.
George still spoke with Fred whenever he wasn't tending to the shop and they still made decisions or invented new products together but not being able to have his twin stand next to him and witness the result of all their work being shown to its fullest; the smiles, the laughter and the birth of new pranksters with that small spark in their eyes – it allowed that darkness within his torn soul to grow again.
The Burrow had been a safe bubble, he'd thought that all he'd needed was to be able to talk to Fred, to see him; but now back in the real world, he realised that it was no consolation for having the full form of his twin physically with him.
That's when it hit him; if he could move Fred from a mental state to a two dimensional one, it was only logical that the next step would be to take him into the third dimension.
So once again he began to plan; for a project on this scale he knew that any spell he formed would require a potion alongside it to boost the power level, it was going to be much harder than the mirror transfer.
Reflecting the response to his last idea, Fred was completely against it when George explained his intentions and he tried everything he could to lead his twin away from his plan; but as time went on and George's will grew and grew, Fred's protests equally fell and fell until eventually he was giving his obsessed twin hints and advice as he poured over hours of research.
To George's annoyance, he couldn't close the shop down so he could spend all his time on the spell as he desired as it would draw his family in like moths to a flame; so he had to work through his days with a cheery grin on his face as he joked with children and chatted with parents whilst all the time wishing they would disappear so that he could return to what was really important.
Once again his anger began to crawl back into his life as he got the same lack of results as he'd had when spending all his time on the mirror spell; he was pretty certain he had a fitting charm lined-up but it was the partnering potion that was causing him the trouble, nothing seemed to be right.
"Don't worry George, you'll work it out – why don't you go and take some swings at that punch-bag of yours, release your anger under your conditions."
He shook his head from where he was leant over a bubbling cauldron, his hair dark with ash and his face covered in suspicious streaks of different ingredients, "I'm fine! I just need to do this – I need to complete it!"
Fred shoved more authority into his tone and snapped back, "Which you'll continue trying to achieve tomorrow! Now stop, eat, rest then sleep!"
With a growl George flung the small flask he was holding into the far wall and looked up to his twins stern glare, "There's not enough time!"
"There's plenty of time!" He shouted, "It's not like I'm going anywhere!"
"I mean for me!" George bellowed, striding forward so he was face to face with his twin.
Fred looked at him with a puzzled expression, his blue eyes pouring into his brother's identical set, "What?"
Pain shot over George's face and his posture slumped, his voice resembling that of a condemned man, "My anger is getting harder to control, as the days go on it gets worse and worse – I'm… I'm afraid of the day when – when your voice will not be able to calm me… don't you see – I need you here – here in body rather than just sight. I'm scared of what I'll become if – if I don't succeed in this."
"Georgie," His twin whispered, "I won't let anything like that happen to you."
The fifty-sixth week was when George finally got Fred back.
The potion was a curse over his life; everything he tried, each concoction or ingredient change came with no result and it was drilling at his chest harder and harder. He hadn't seen any of his family in weeks; he had his staff inform them that he was in a careful stage of invention that required isolated concentration when they came to the shop to try and grab him, he changed his apparition wards to dis-allow any Weasley into the flat and he no longer responded to owls, a mountain of un-open letters proving as much.
Completing the potion was all that mattered to him now; getting his twin back was all he wanted and it was an achievement that he was going to get.
George stumbled around his flat, throwing empty glasses and jars onto the collection on the floor as he searched through his cupboards, he'd run out of beetroot and he needed it if he wanted to re-try brewing the potion.
"There's none here!" He growled, swiping shards of glass off the counter-top in one motion, not even noticing the small slashes they created on his arm.
Storming back into their living room he went over to his twin's mirror; Fred looked just as bad as he did, this potion was putting a strain on both of them and the trapped twin was clearly having a hard time seeing what it was doing to George.
"I thought you ordered a general ingredient basket a few days ago?" Fred responded, his tone heavy with fatigue.
"I did but we've brewed fifth-teen variations of the potion since the delivery," George sighed, kicking at a bucket containing remains of one of the failed attempts causing the thick green liquid to seep into the stained carpet, "And it's already seven now, no potion store will be open this late on a Friday evening lazy idiots."
Fred gave a hum of dis-interested agreement and his twin's head snapped up to focus on him, "You've got an idea?"
"Of course I do Georgie-boy; this is me we're talking about – though you're not going to like it."
George simply rolled his eyes with a smirk, "Right now I really don't care if your idea involves me marrying a Hogwarts house-elf so I can gain access to the school's ingredients cupboard."
"Well it's not quite as imaginative as that," Fred laughed, "Though that is being stored as a back-up plan for future events."
"Wait," George drawled, his eyes narrowing as he worked out what his twin was going to suggest, "You want me to go and get it from the Burrow?"
His brother grinned in response, "It is where our mother resides with her delicious kitchen which holds its very own endless food supply; how will she not have some beetroot lying spare in one of the draws?"
"But I haven't spoken to anyone in weeks," George groaned, "If I put one foot in that place I'll be bombarded with siblings desiring to talk and mistake more memories of yours onto me all while mum shoves a four course meal down my throat and dad guilt's me into staying for the night using stories of mum's sobbing fests!"
His twin shifted as if to clap a hand on his shoulder but caught himself before he tried, "Come on," he urged, "Likely nobody but our parents will be there - the rest of the family do have their own lives."
Grumbling at Fred's poor reassuring smile George didn't bother wasting any-more potential brewing time and quickly spun on the spot, disappearing from the flat with a sharp crack.
His feet hit the soft grass with a soft thump and he allowed himself a lingering blink as a flash of dizziness wrapped around him; it had been a while since he'd left the flat, let alone apparated.
Opening his eyes to the house a light smirk slid onto his face at his luck; the Burrow was completely emerged in darkness, giving no signs of life. Assumedly he'd happened to arrive on a rare evening where his parent's had been convinced to go out for a meal; his mum took a lot of persuading for such things as most places apparently didn't make their food to the standards she would, but if she was guilt-tripped enough by her children, it was possible.
Approaching the door he swiftly waved his wand over the lock and was satisfied with a click as it recognised the wand signature; marching in he shoved the door behind him and it closed with a slam.
The second the wood crashed back into place the house suddenly burst into life; bright lights blinded his gaze, sharp colours flooded his sight and a thundering cry of mixed pitches shattered his ears.
"Surprise!"
The squeals came with a burst of their own Weasley Whiz Bangs which crackled over the heads of his family and their partners, all with extra cheesy grins on their faces and strange dancing hats on their heads.
George internally sighed and had to bite his lower lip to hold back a growl, so much for nobody being in, couldn't he just collect a slab of beetroot without having a big show and dance thrust upon him.
His family took his blank silence for confused shock and they all burst into laughter; Ginny flicked her wand at the bursting fireworks and they went silent, knowing that trying to vanish them were just cause chaos.
"Bet you didn't see this coming!" His sister teased, jumping onto the edge of the table and swinging her legs, "We were wondering if you would come over for the dinner invite seeing as we haven't seen you in so long but I knew you wouldn't refuse the promise of mum's roast dinner – which before you worry we are still having."
Molly Weasley cut in, setting her son a hard glare, "We would have been celebrating a few weeks ago, but someone seemed to think his joke shop was more important than his birthday!"
George swallowed down a biting remark about how he was wrapped up in something a lot more important than a fake birthday party, which was what it was when there was only one twin available to be in attendance. Shaking his head he turned away from his family and moved towards the kitchen cupboards, quickly opening them one by one and searching through the jars and tins; he didn't have time for this.
Molly cast a nervous glance at her husband from her son's lack of response and sudden interest in the kitchen; giving her a reassuring nod he placed a hand on her shoulder and stepped a few paces in-front of her, "We know this is a hard thing to have to think of, but Fred would have wanted you to enjoy yourself; your mother's especially made a collection of your favourite puddings – "
"And I know you're going to love the presents," Ron added with a forced lightness.
"Though of course mine will be your favourite," Bill joked from behind his wife who was wrapped in his hold.
She must have it somewhere! George inwardly cursed as he moved to the fourth cupboard, he was aware of his family talking to him but he hadn't come for them, the invitation they'd mentioned was likely hidden among the rest of his dusty letters; if he'd known they'd been expecting him he would have waited till tomorrow to come for the ingredient, or at least held back until everyone had fallen asleep and snuck in unseen.
His eye caught a dark red colour on the back of the top shelf and he climbed onto the counter-top, shoving his hand into the back of the cupboard; feeling the thin strands of the end of the beetroot in his palm he slid his arm out and jumped back down, using his body to block view of his acquired vegetables.
"Yes!" George whispered, quickly slipping the beetroot into his extension charmed jacket pocket.
"See, he understands! At least someone in this family has some brains," Charlie's voice exclaimed, clearly thinking that his brother's whisper had been in agreement with whatever he'd said.
George glanced up to see every face still turned on him, a silence fell over the room where they assumed he would add onto his brother's joke but he just stared them down; his gaze uncomfortably hollow.
Without warning he abruptly whacked the cupboard door so it swung to a close and strode back to the front door; still not having uttered one word to the family who had gathered to celebrate his late birthday.
As his finger-tips brushed the metal of the door handle a crushing force pushed down on his arm, holding him back from his exit; the anger ridden tone of his mother placed the grips owner and he felt his own fury rise through his body as she scolded him.
"George Weasley, how dare you just walk away from your family! Everyone here has put such effort into all of this for you and of course we realise it's a hard day to think of because – because of… of Fred, but it's been hard for all of us!" She was crying now, her free hand rubbing up and down her son's arm as if to remind herself that he was still real, "But you've been so much better than you once were, I – we are so proud of the strength you've shown and… and how you've come to realise that you are your own person, and – "
The recurring line was the final push; everything he'd noticed the moment the lights had been thrown on punched back at him with spiteful intent, and unfortunately his twin wasn't around to deter his rage.
"My own person," he humourlessly laughed, slowly turning around to look into his mother's wet eyes, "The new Weasley saying – do you realise how many times you've told me those very words – all of you!"
He snapped his hand out of his mother's grip and his voice lowered to a menacing whisper, "But it's all lies… I've never been my own person – especially in all your eyes!"
Bill moved past his wife and raised a cautious hand out to his unrecognisable brother, speaking with a gentle tone, "George…"
The twins red gaze snapped to the voice but it didn't do anything to appease his anger, "Fred's always loved his Gryffindor gold and red – I've always preferred green," he spat, indicating to the house-colour decorations hanging up.
Switching his accusing hand to the kitchen table he continued, "Carrots, peas, green beans – those I can stand; broccoli and especially roast potatoes Fred loves, I despise – so stop slipping them onto my plate as if you're doing me a favour Ginny! And among it I don't even see the one vegetable I truly like – but I bet nobody actually knows what that is anyway!"
Shoving past his pale faced mother he moved onto where the puddings lay, "Beautiful spread over here – lucky for you Fred and I actually have the same taste for sweet things, so don't worry about making a mistake there! Though who can bet that the cake – " he shovelled a handful of the treat and pushed it into his mouth, quickly spitting it back out again, "Yep! Strawberry and blackberry flavoured – a concoction I've always found disgusting… but of course nobody ever noticed the fact I wouldn't ever eat our birthday cake – no, one of the twins is seen eating it so clearly they both love it!"
He could hardly tell what he was saying anymore, the rage was released and there was nothing he could do about it as hot tears fell down his face, "And while we're at it – Charlie it was Fred you told about the dragon stalk, not me… no Ginny I don't remember rescuing you from a tree because I wasn't there! Ron – I have no idea why you'd give me a broken pocket-watch and find it gut-wrenching hilarious - but I'm sure Fred would! Because I have been listening to Fred's memories, Fred's inside jokes and Fred, Fred, Fred that have all been labelled as me every single day!"
He was screaming now, his voice thrashing into the corners of the house; leaning forward he swiped the table clear of all its lies and hated food and he thought he could hear a frightened cry as it crashed to the floor but he couldn't be sure through his own thundering screams, "But I wouldn't care! I wouldn't care because we like being identical – it's great fun! But then you all come along with your 'oh George how lovely that you see you're your own person', 'we knew you could find yourself'," he whined in bad imitations of his family, "It just makes it all so stupid! Because none of you really see me as my own person! I'm still an extension of Fred in your eyes – but you all deny it! You all just lie about it and that's what's so ridiculous! Me and Fred are one of the same – we may have differences but we're still one being so either learn to deal with it or stop telling me to be my own stupid person!"
A rainfall of shattering glass followed his final roar as his rage took over his magic and a piercing silence followed, only broken by George's rasping pants and the thin breeze flowing through the now empty window panes.
His family were all cowering in a close group against the wall furthest from him, his brother's looked like a ghost had just passed through them from the paleness of their skin and his mother seemed to have just had her heart ripped from her body and trampled on; even the normally fiery Ginny was hidden in Harry's chest, her shoulder's shaking with quiet sobs.
George stared at the people he was supposed to care for the most in this world and watched them looking at him like a complete stranger; this was what he was – this monster, the rage had always been with him but before he'd always fought it – Fred had…
Fred! I – I need Fred… Even his thoughts came out as a broken whisper and with a tortured glance, he tore from the house, spinning the moment he stepped over the door's threshold.
Just as his body was leaving the presence of the family who were now terrified of him, he caught the lone whisper of his little brother's bookworm, "He was speaking of Fred in the present tense."
George stumbled as he landed in their living room, tripping over some stray glass jars; roughly wiping a hand over his face he quickly went to Fred's mirror to let him know that he had a good feeling about the potion, everything would be fine when he made the potion.
His twin was in a bad state; his clothes were all askew and there were tears running down from his blood-shot eyes, leaving wet streaks on his cheeks, but he sounded perfectly normal when he spotted his brother and asked, "So did you get the beetroot?"
George felt his body relax from the mere presence of Fred and he smirked, taking the beetroot from his pocket and waving it in-front of the glass, "You saying you doubted me twin of mine?"
Fred laughed and childishly stuck his tongue out, "Course not! I mean when have you ever let me down?"
"Hey – we said we'd never speak of the toilet prank again; it wasn't my fault that McGonagall decided to use that stall for the first time ever when you happened to be there!"
"You were supposed to be keeping guard!"
"And I was… of the alcove that I hid in when I saw her coming."
Fred just shook his head and waved his hands at his brother, "Whatever – just shove in the beetroot; I have a good feeling about this one."
"Same, I think this will be the one!" George exclaimed; chucking in the end strands of one of the vegetables he picked up the mucky ladle and began to stir the purple liquid bubbling in the cauldron. Holding his breath his eyes widened as the mixture suddenly melted into a sea blue shade and his gaze snapped up to meet the equivalent excited one of his twin.
"This is it!" George gasped, his face attempting to hold the grin that was climbing onto his features.
Swiftly he grabbed an empty vial from among the many lounged about the room and carefully poured some of the potion into it, securing his wand in his other hand he slowly moved to stand in-front of the mirror.
"Here we go," He whispered, locking eyes with his anticipating twin.
"Do it," Fred replied, and they both closed their eyes as George threw the potion over the glass and shouted, "Glass ad carnem!"
A fierce sizzling noise began to hum around the room; gradually became louder and louder, bouncing off the walls and filling the surroundings with a tremendous noise; George fell to the floor covering his ears as it continued to grow, not knowing if this was a good or bad event.
Suddenly a harsh crack erupted and everything fell quiet.
Slowly raising his head, George cautiously lifted himself off the floor, his ears still ringing slightly from the invaded sounds; but as he stood up his gaze fell on the mirror that had been a shelter for his twin for so long – it was cracked straight from the middle, cobwebs of smaller cuts leading from the main one in the centre.
"Fred?" He pleaded, lifting a shaky hand to run over his cracked reflection, "You still there?"
A sharp cough sounded from behind him and a beautifully familiar voice followed it, "Well, I'm not over there – but I'm over here if that's any help."
George spun around with a strangled whimper, there, standing right before him was the perfect, unscathed version of himself, and it was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen.
"Fred!" He cried, flinging himself into his twin's arms; all his anger and pain disappearing as the body of his long lost brother became increasingly real.
The newly arrived twin smiled down at his weeping brother, tightening his grip around him as he whispered words of comfort, "It's me Georgie! You did it – you really did it, I'm back and I'm not going anywhere ever again… you understand, I'll never leave you again."
George grinned into his twin's shoulder as he continued to sooth him; he knew he'd be fine now, the monster that had appeared earlier would never come again because he was complete once more, he was a being with a full soul, a normal human just like before.
But unfortunately, it was also this fifty-sixth week that the Weasley's finally realised that the window for helping the lone twin had long closed, and there was nothing that they could do about it.
Bill and Charlie were now ramming at the door, their little brother had put very highly advanced protection wards around the flat and none of them were able to break through them, so they were left with manual entry.
Molly was standing in the background uncontrollably sobbing whilst hysterically repeating, "What if he's done something? What if we're too late!"
They'd all apparated to the shop mere seconds after George had left; Hermione's comment making them realise that his use of present tense could mean he'd made a decision to join his twin, though nobody was saying the word out loud, they were all thinking it… suicide.
Ginny was screaming inconceivable words at the door, hoping that she could make her brother hear her through the wards.
Ron was knelt down on the floor clutching at his head, muttering curses to himself and jumping each time his brother's pounded at the door.
Percy was the only one not making a sound, his face had turned deathly pale and his arms were sharply folded; his nails digging into to skin with such force that he was starting to draw blood.
Suddenly the wooden door crashed to the floor, taking the two eldest Weasley boys with it; they rapidly scrambled off the floor, noticing the hundreds of bottles and half-used ingredients lying around and ran towards the living room, the rest of the family right on their heels.
"I can't believe it! From my mind, to glass, to reality! We did it!" They all heard the excited voice of George coming from the living room and they burst into the room – but what they saw brought them all to a stand-still.
In the middle of the room, amidst piles of books, plants, toads legs, jars and vials; stood George, crying tears of astounding joy - with his arms clasped around thin air.
They all stared on frozen, none of them having realised how far they'd let the young man fall; all automatically knowing who George thought he was embracing but none wanting to feel that heart-break by admitting it to themselves.
"I love you too Freddie," came the firm whisper.
There was nothing they could do because George no longer wanted to move on.
Because he had taken a fantasy so far that to him it had become reality
Because he would never be willing to let go of the new life he had built for himself in his mind's eye.
Thank you, please review :) x