After the war, he had felt like a part of him had died along with the end of the battle. And he had reason to. He had just lost the one other person in the entire world that shared his face, a clone of his existence, and one he held dearly to his heart. It seemed like he had always been there when he looked for him, but that was not true anymore. He was gone, never to walk the face of the earth again.
He remembered all the things they'd done together, all the plans they'd made, all the inventions they'd created. He remembered their little shop in Diagon Alley, which he had relocated to a new premise after everything had become peaceful again. His excuse was that the old place had been damaged too badly by the Death Eaters (and he was right), but in reality it was because he didn't know whether he would be able to face working the rest of his life in a place that was full of memories of their time together as young entrepreneurs, ready to challenge the world together. Together. The mere thought of it was enough to create pangs of pain in his heart. They would never be able to do anything together any more, nor would they ever get the chance again.
He recalled their time at Hogwarts, the mischief they'd made together, all the detentions they'd carried out thanks to their pranks. One particular memory came to mind: just before the Yule Ball in sixth year, when asked whether he had already set a date for the dance, his twin had just yelled across the common room to a fellow Quidditch player and asked her to go with him, and she had agreed. The same young woman was now to be his wife in a few months, and she had reassured him time and time again that his brother would have given his blessing to them, but he still couldn't shake off the feeling that he was merely picking up where his brother had left off, living their lives for both of them. He only wished his brother could just come back, so he could be relieved of the heavy burden that rested on his shoulders, the burden that came from being the twin who survived.
He looked in the mirror at his reflection and hammered the dressing table with his fist. "You bloody idiot. Had enough of your holiday yet? About time you came back from wherever you came from, even if it's better than here. Don't you know how much we all miss you, how much we want you to be back? Do you know that Mom still cries in her sleep sometimes, calling your name in her sleep? Do you know Ginny won't even look at her Pygmy Puff any more, the one she bought from our shop? Do you know how hard it is, being the one among the two of us who survived? Do you know at all?"
He broke down crying, and slumped on the dressing table, his shoulders heaving as he sobbed. After a while, he finally looked up through his tears and saw his reflection, looking back at him with tears in his eyes. And that was when it hit him.
His brother wasn't really gone. He still lives inside of him, and whenever he looked in a mirror he would be seeing him again. His expression was his twin's expression, his feelings shared with him. Whatever he did in front of a mirror, that would be what his brother did as well.
He stood up and rubbed away the tears, watching as his reflection did the same. He cracked a small smile and watched as the man in the mirror smiled back. His spirits lifting again, he put a hand to the smooth surface of the mirror and saw his palm meet the other's. His smile broader now, he gently traced the outline of his reflection in the mirror. "Don't worry. I'll be strong, and so should you." Then he turned around and walked away, and the other twin in the mirror left as well.
A/N: I decided to take a break from writing Wolfstar oneshots, so I wrote this instead. The inspiration came from a fanfic I read featuring the Mirror of Erised and what every Harry Potter character sees in it. This isn't a rip-off; I just based it loosely on George's chapter. Hope you liked it and reviews are much appreciated!