Disclaimer: Me? Own this? No chance.

Oi, Fred,

It's George here. Merlin… I don't know what to say. I've never really had to tell you how anything feels before – you always knew. Anyway - I could write anything right now. Lalala. I mean, it's not like you'll ever read it. You're gone. Gone. Doesn't feel right to say it, really. You were never meant to die. Not before me at any rate. I wanted to go and hunt down Rookwood, to fight him until one of us was dead – preferably me. But I just sat whispering in your ear, trying to make you warm again, and wishing you'd answer me, and sit up to say, "Fooled you!" And then the battle was over and Mum was crying and I don't even know what happened but I remember them taking you away from me and saying I had to go up to the Gryffindor common room, and Peeves was singing some song about Voldy finally being dead, and that was the first time I knew for sure we'd won, not that it made any difference anymore and- OK. Pause. Deep breath. Sorry, I'm not making much sense. I'm sure you're up there with your quill and red ink, adding in all the punctuation I've missed and crossing out my overuse of the word "and". I apologise for the ink that's blurred. It's a side-effect of having you taken away. Bloody hell, they told me this would help, and now here I am sitting in tears just like before. It's pitiful.

Moving on – I thought I'd start out with how everyone else is, since I'm not sure whether I can talk about us coherently quite yet. Mum is exactly how you'd expect. She's cooking much too much food, which somehow never quite makes it out without being a little bit burned (yeah, unusual, I know). Then she bursts into tears and says it's about the cooking, but everyone knows… It doesn't take much to set her off any more. Dad's been quite quiet. It was a shock to see him cry at the funeral. I don't think we've ever seen that before, have we? Sorry, not trying to guilt trip you or anything, but it's true.

Speaking of things we've never seen… Percy's been hiding out in his room since the battle. I think he blames himself. I also think that that might be my fault. I'm sorry, Fred, I didn't mean it, but he was standing stuttering about how sorry he was and I flipped and yelled at him that it had never been his right to be with you and I wished… Wished that he'd died. And of course I'm ashamed. But at the time, that was true. I did wish he'd died. I still wish I could have been there instead of him. It was my duty, as your twin, to try to save you. I failed. But it isn't really his fault. I know that. It's more my fault than anybody else's. Mine and Rookwood's. I failed. I failed. I'm sorry.

Then there's Ron. Our ickle Ronnikins seems to be trying to act like the man of the house. I think it's his way of apologising for running off all year and leaving everyone else behind. Harry and Hermione hang around too – they're even more like part of the family now, what with Hermione being with Ron, and Harry with Ginny. You owe me two Galleons. You can add that on to all the other bets you've lost. I expect the money when I see you again. Harry's been as awkward as we knew he would be. He's being followed around the country by reporters, including Rita Skeeter – the nerve! Mum threw a saucepan at them though, and I think they warned the others about the mad witch living in the, because they never came back. However, we did see a story in the Prophet about "the woman driven to insanity and violence by the death of her son", which was probably meant to be revenge from Skeeter. Pathetic.

Harry has spent most of his time here apologising to different people about you. We keep telling him it wasn't his fault, but I'm not sure that I can bear it if he tells me he "didn't want you to die" once more… Of course he didn't - he doesn't have to tell me that. On another note, Ginny yelled at him for about a decade on the first night after the battle, for going off without her. "YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN CAUGHT BY SNATCHERS!" Ring any bells? Taking after our mother, she is. Incidentally, it didn't go down well when he told her they were caught, for a while at least. But after that one night she calmed down, and now they're inseparable. Our little sister with that scrawny git… Someone should warn him – I don't think he's really the right build to cope with her when she's in a mood, Chosen One or not. Voldemort's not even a warm-up act compared to her.

There is some good news, though. Bill and Fleur have been coming over a lot, looking happier than was decent, I might add. We finally worked out why one night, when they told us Fleur was pregnant. That's right – you're going to have a niece! They're calling her Victoire, apparently – it's Frog-speak for "victory", as in ours, in the war. I managed to resist telling them that it wasn't a victory for everyone. Didn't think I should ruin the evening. Mum cried anyway, but I think that was because she was happy, so that was all right. You know what she's like. If she cried at the wedding, she'll cry about being a grandma too.

There isn't much to say about Charlie. He came home for the funeral, but I don't think he liked the atmosphere, so he flew back off to Romania pretty sharpish afterwards. Dragons are better company than us, apparently. Can't say I blame him – I'd much rather be in another country right now as well.

I've exhausted our supply of family members to tell you about now, so I guess I'm the only one left… I won't lie. It's been tough. It still is, actually, and I don't think it's really going to get any better. I have to lie on my left side when I'm going to sleep, because I can't bear to see your empty bed. Then again, it's not exactly like I've slept much at all. Or eaten a huge amount. I keep finding myself lying awake crying. It doesn't suit me. It doesn't work at all. Doesn't help, does it? We… we were never ones to cry. But this time, action won't work. I can't do anything to get you back, and that hurts more than anything. More than when my ear got cursed off. Believe me, I've thought for so long about how to bring you to life again, and I never thought I'd say this, but I think it's impossible... I – I miss you, Freddie, and I haven't really worked out yet how to stop being "and George". To be totally honest, I don't really want to either. I don't want to suddenly be on my own! I mean, I still pause in the middle of sentences and expect you to finish them... More often than not, I don't even start the sentences because you normally did that for me.

It's been a month. The others are all happy again. Even Mum's a lot better. They all told me they understood, and that they loved you too. But you weren't their twin, and I don't believe they really know what it feels like, because, as guilty as I feel about admitting this, I know that you were the one person whose death I would never have been able to cope with. I could still be smiling and joking if it had been anyone else, because you would have been doing it too... Bad luck for us then. The other thing they will never understand is how it feels when people look at you and see your dead twin instead. When they have to fix their eyes on the hole where your ear used to be in order to actually convince themselves that they aren't seeing somebody else – somebody who is actually rotting in a hole in the ground. There are so many feelings I have now that I could never have imagined before I actually lost you.

Fred. I'm scared. What happens when I'm forty? I will have lived longer without you than with you, and then people will expect you… not to matter anymore. Maybe I'll be married with children, or something. Should they then mean more to me than you do? I just don't feel like anybody else could ever matter any more… I don't want to see Angelina, or Lee, or anybody. I know you want me to live, but I don't know how to on my own. I was never without you before. And when I'm older, will I still see you when I look in a mirror? I will change, and you never will. The ear thing was bad, but this is a big difference. People can't mistake us now... Actually, that's not true. Mum called me Fred the other day, and everyone looked at me like they thought I'd explode. Really, I was just wishing I could still answer to that name without people thinking I'm cracking up and sending me to a therapist…

I covered every mirror in the house when I got home. They thought it was so I didn't see you, but really it was so I couldn't see myself change, and leave you behind. I had to uncover them recently though, so that failed. I don't want them to worry about me. I don't need to see a counselor. I'm just not ready to move on yet. So I pretend to be OK. Another thing – I haven't touched alcohol since you… you know. Not even any Firewhisky when we were celebrating about Victoire. I'm frightened that if I get drunk I'll never want to be sober again. I don't want to be an alcoholic, but mostly, I don't want to forget and then have to remember again. It's bad enough waking up every morning after dreaming that you were alive again, without that happening more than once in a day, and then getting a hangover on top.

One last thing, and then I'd better leave you in peace. The shop. I haven't been there yet. I don't know if I can handle being in the place we worked so hard on again… But I have to try. You know, I'm not even sure if I belong in Gryffindor any more. I was only brave with you here. I'm too much of a coward to open up yet – I keep making excuses. There is one thing I know though, which is that I'm not quite cowardly enough to take the easy way out. You would never forgive me, would you? I don't like the idea of spending maybe even one hundred more years like this, when I only had you for twenty of them, but I'm going to do my best. Aren't I admirable? I'm trying to smirk now. It's really rather pathetic. I'm sure you're laughing so hard you'll fall off your fluffy little cloud just watching me.

Your brother, George

P.S. I'm sorry I never said goodbye, or told you I loved you. I hope you knew that. I just didn't expect never to have another chance.

Author's Note: This is my first fanfic and I realise that it isn't particularly good or original. I just needed to write something for George, because I've always been annoyed at how J.K. left it without saying more than about two sentences about him… Please review etc. – I'd love some constructive criticism! :)