Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me
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George woke with a start, sitting up in bed with a hand to his chest, his heart thumping loudly against his palm, in his ears, in his throat.

But it wasn't his heart he needed to hear.

Quietly as he could possibly muster in his haste, George crept out of bed and climbed the ladder to his brother's bunk, peeking over the edge to see Fred sleeping peacefully, lying flat on his back with the sheets bunched up at his stomach. George felt a surge of relief, but it was stifled by a sudden paranoia. Was his chest moving? George couldn't see through the darkness well enough to tell.

Just to be sure...

He had to feel his heartbeat. The heartbeat that had been so hauntingly lacking in his nightmare. George moved to press his hand against his brother's chest, but his fingers had just barely touched Fred's skin before Fred sat up with a start, "Bloody hell, George, your hands are freezing." George felt a reassured smile flicker onto his face. That worked, too.

Fred rubbed gently at his eye before taking in his surroundings. "It's still awfully early. What're you doing up?" He then noticed his brother's appearance. "George, you're shaking. What's wrong? Are you crying? What happened?" George shook his head, but Fred grabbed his arm and pulled him into his bunk. "Are you okay?" George nodded. He was unsure if it was relief or the left over shock from his dream that kept his voice from functioning. He could see Fred's worried expression in the dim light from the window. He wasn't buying it.

"You are not, you git. You're drenched in sweat." To prove his point, Fred mopped the sweat from George's brow and wiped it on his pajama bottoms. "Out with it." George focused on controlling his trembling hands as he tried to speak.

"You were—we were fighting—the war—we were in the war, and you—" he felt ridiculous as tears started welling in his eyes at the thought of it. "You didn't—you were lying in the Great Hall, and—your heart wasn't—wasn't beat—beating. I tried, but you were—" He seemed to be having difficulty using the term 'dead.' To George's absolute mortification, Fred started to laugh.

"That's it? Merlin's beard, George, I'm flattered. By the way you were acting I thought someone had died." George scowled at him, and Fred grinned, "Well, really died." He tucked a piece of sweat-slicked hair behind George's ear. "Nothing to worry about, Georgie. War's over, remember?" George nodded, feeling his heart rate slowly returning to normal. Feeling slightly proud of himself, Fred smiled and yawned.

"Now, promise that'll be the last of your nightmares for tonight, because we've got to get back to opening the shop in the morning and I'd rather not look like I've been to hell and back." George smiled sheepishly, and Fred rolled his eyes, hearing the unspoken question in his expression. "Alright, C'mere." He tugged George's elbow, and George eagerly curled into his brother, who draped his arm lazily over George's waist.

"You've really gotta grow outta these damn nightmares, Georgie."

Feeling patronized enough for one night, George snapped, "Yeah? Well what if our roles were reversed, you prat? I wouldn't be this mean to you if you had a nightmare."

Fred scoffed lightly, but George smirked as he felt his twin's grip unconsciously tighten around him.

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A/N: Holy crap. I was lying in bed, ready to fall asleep. (It's 4:34am here, to put that in perspective) and I was all proud of myself for uploading Void, and then all of a sudden Leave Out All The Rest by Linkin Park came on, and that first line played, so this thought came to me. I'm really tired and all, right, so I try to ignore it, but it basically wrote itself completely in my head, so I got up, turned my computer back on, and wrote it. Denial again! Horray! I love this stage of grief! It's lighter than Void's random bouts of depression.

Okay, sleep now. Srsly.