It's been a week since the battle of Hogwarts. The majority of the gang is staying at the Burrow, too scared of losing more people to grieve alone.
George has left his room a total of 4 times since he came; each to use the bathroom. The first time he went in there, it was silence for 10 minutes before a screeched "BOMBARDA MAXIMA!" Molly was first to the scene, only to see the bathroom mirror had been obliterated. He said nothing as he returned to his room before she could fully reach her arm out to give him a hug; Eye's as dead as the laughter in his chest and his brother in the grave. Everyone has to share space, so he took Fred's bed and leaves his old bed for Bill. There were several plates with stasis charms and piles of food that Bill kept leaving by his bed. They were untouched.
The day of 'his' funeral, George didn't so much as peak out from under the covers of the bed.
Molly looks stricken when he comes down to the kitchen, seven days later. She can't help but feel she's lost them both.
"I have to go to Hogwarts."
George repeats himself three times before Bill takes a deep breath and explains that it's under construction and that unless he's there to help, there's no point going.
He repeats himself nine times before Molly begins sobbing, forcing him into a tight hug.
He screams it one more time before returning to his bedroom with slammed doors and accidental magic destroying every reflective surface in his wake.
No one speaks about it.
That night Hermione and Ron catch him trying to leave the house, he repeats himself an eleventh and twelfth time before they stop him and drag him back home.
The next day Hermione mentions it to Minerva, who is concerned but unsure of how to approach the situation.
George drops it, speaking very little to anyone.
Angelina comes by the house after two months. Dragging the man by his ear out the front door and apparating them back to WWW in Diagon Alley. It's 'their shop'. It's entirely fixed but he can't even look at the sign.
He doesn't leave the flat above the shop until another month passes. He takes Angelina on a date as 'him'; so that she can say the goodbyes he'll never have.
Several dates pass. Angelina and George come home from a night out, and Angelina presses a warm kiss to his cheek.
"I had a lovely time, thank you, George." She murmurs. He stops pretending.
It's been one year of isolation with Angelina. The prophet announces the anniversary of the battle of Hogwarts. He has his first fight with Angelina. He repeats himself for the thirteenth to eighteenth times, begging her to understand. She doesn't, and he apparates to Hogsmeade alone.
George barely makes it through the front doors before he is intercepted by Minerva who gives him a sad, disapproving look.
"I need to be here. I needed to be at Hogwarts."
"Mr. Weasley." She is stern yet soft. "You may go visit the site once but let it be known that your family is worried and your friends have not forgotten. Do not stay long.
George spends six hours sitting where 'he' died before Minerva escorts him out of the school and to the edge of the wards.
Molly is waiting for them.
"Mr. Weasley.. I understand, I do;" Minerva paused trying to be as gentle as possible, "but after today you will be keyed into our wards. You will not be able to return without due cause."
He sounds strangled when he repeats himself for the twentieth time, once for each year his twin had lived. George was 21. Angelina had explained to Minerva, and was afraid he would waste away there if given the chance.
He stops asking. He returns to his shop. He hires Ron. He marries Angelina.
He has a baby and for the first time in six years, he says 'his' name.
"Fred… we're naming him Fred."
That year George puts back up the mirrors in his and Angelina's flat. So she can feel pretty again, they're each charmed to show her how he sees her. How Fred saw her. He still avoids looking into them.
The day his son says his first word, George can't help the hysterical laughter as sobs wracked his ribcage and tears soaked into his boy's hair.
"FUCK!" His son had screeched, pointing at a large truck driving outside of the Leaky Cauldron on the side of muggle London. Fred would have been so proud.
George gets ready in the morning, looking warily in the mirror. He no longer sees his brother. His face has aged. He has too many wrinkles, too many grey hairs. His face is no longer clean shaven, but neatly trimmed. He is 37 years old. It would hurt more, but he could see so much of him in his son. Today was his first day at Hogwarts.
When George watched Fred board the express, he had to hold Angelina's hand to prevent himself from jumping on the train with him.
It was April first of Fred's second year.
Dear Mr. Weasley.
I have owled to inform you that your attendance is required at Hogwarts, at your soonest convenience. Upon arrival you can alert those of your choosing. Your son is fine.
My Sincerest Regrets,
Minerva McGonagall.
He drops everything upon reading the letter, including the dishes in his hands. He's gone before Angelina can even scold him for being clumsy.
Storming the Headmistress's office, he sees his son with the widest grin on his face as well as fresh tear tracks.
"Someone needs to tell me what is going on, right now."
"You were right Mr. Weasley. You did need to come to Hogwarts, I am so sorry." Minerva spoke, but shook her head before George could respond. Instead she gestures to Fred jr. who simply points behind him. George turns.
It was almost like looking at your reflection in a pool of water. He saw himself, silver, pale and transparent; floating behind him.
"After all this time, I'm still the better looking twin." His reflection grins rather sheepishly.
George sits down. He doesn't realize that Fred's ghost isn't his reflection until he feels hot tears on his cheeks which aren't mirrored.
"So.. I uh.. may have gotten your son in trouble.. by suggesting he blow up a toilet. I mean, really he did all the work-" Fred trailed. "Georgie?"
"…How…?" George barely gets out, having not blinked once.
"I can't just leave you behind, now, can I?" Fred chuckles, "literally, might be some twin bond thing. I can't pass on without you."
There is silence before George pulls back his fist and punches it through the air where Fred is. He stares at his hand, looking between it and his twin before collapsing in sobs. George hugs himself, because his brother is back and Merlin he wants to hug Fred but that's not an option. His twin nods to his son and instead he finds his arms full of a much smaller, younger Fred.
"I thought you'd feel it... the pull, but you never came back here. Well, once, but by the time I worked myself up enough to explain.. when I convinced myself that you'd rather see me, that seeing me wouldn't hurt you.. you'd left."
"I-"
"-tried. I know. I'm so-"
"sorry. I know."
"So… you gonna help me tell mum?"
George raised a slow eyebrow. "Nope, it's your turn to deal with this."
"Prat."
"You love me."
"More than death."