A/N: I haven't written a gratuitous amount of HP fanfiction, but this will be likely the only story I write that falls in line with Rowling's "canon." I've rejected her epilogue as canon from the start. Perhaps it's pointless, because my word is not law in the HP verse, but I reserve my right as a fan to dream up my own endings, and I don't like how she's elaborated on every single detail in Harry Potter, living little room for our own imaginations to take hold.
That said, here's another addition to the whole "Fred-is-dead" section of the HP fandom, but perhaps not in the way you'd expect.
Also, Angelina Johnson isn't even mentioned on this because I'm a Fred/Angelina fan, and I see George/Angelina as being awkward at best, so I think they're divorced or...something. I really don't see it lasting.
On Platform Nine and Three-Quarters
The little girl's hands clapped over his face as he blindly followed a bobbing head of strikingly red, curly hair through the thick throngs of Hogwarts students and their families. They overflowed the platform, rendering it difficult to see where he was walking. George felt like it had gotten busier than when he was a child, eagerly climbing aboard the train to whisper about the trouble they would cause while Percy was out of earshot. Now, he was pursuing Percy's voice, guided by Roxanne as she eagerly tried to steer him through the crowd.
"Daddy!" Roxanne cried excitedly. "Daddy! Daddy, I just saw Scorpius! Can we say hello? Let's say hello!"
"We would, Roxie, but I don't think Mr. Malfoy will let us anywhere near his son after you gave him that Puking Pastie," George pointed out. "It's bad enough Scorpius drags his father in there every time they come to Diagon Alley."
"What about a Nosebleed Nugget? Can I give him a Nosebleed nugget? I know I have some in—whoops!"
Skiving Snackbox candies rained over George's face.
"Oh, Daddy!" Roxanne exclaimed. "I have another hole in my pocket!"
"Then we'll just have to cast an undetectable extension charm on your pocket," George suggested. "Slow down, Frederic, we still have plenty of time to track down James and Molly, and I'm sure they'll find us before we find them."
Frederic came to a sudden stop, sighed, and rounded on him. At thirteen years of, he had a thick, curly mat of red hair, a face strewn with freckles, and thick glasses. His expression was so Percy-like that George could have easily mistaken for his brother in miniature. Yet somehow, he was infinitely grateful for this small act of mercy on fate's part that he was so unlike his namesake. Frederic drew himself to his full height (which wasn't all that much) and puffed out his chest.
"James should've been here ten minutes ago!" Frederic exclaimed wildly. "Honestly, why can't he ever be on time! At least Molly is reliable"
"It's good to see that you see your social engagements as appointments," George quipped. "Have you been taking notes from your uncle?"
"Uncle George!" a voice called. "Frederic, over here!"
"There, see?" George turned to Frederic. "I told you James would find us."
James Potter and his family emerged from the thick mass of people. Some spectators turned, aghast, while others went about their business or politely pretended to see nothing unusual about James's father. George only caught a glimpse of them before Roxanne's hands covered his eyes again.
Fortunately, James managed to get to them mere seconds before his parents.
"Right pocket," George muttered.
James extracted a package of Decoy Detonators from George's coat pocket and hid them behind his back. He heard Frederic sigh disapprovingly.
"What did you give him, George?" Ginny said.
"Nothing," George and James sang.
"If you've given him another package of fireworks—"
"I'm shocked and appalled that you would think that I would give fireworks to my underage nephew!"
Peering through Roxanne's fingers, George saw his redheaded sister wagging her finger at him. "If I find out you've sent him one box of Skiving Snackboxes, just one, I'm going to—"
"Really, Ginny!" George exclaimed, trying to sound as offended as possible. "I would never just hand out Skiving Snackboxes!"
Ginny huffed. "That's good to hear."
"I've given up enough free samples. If he wants some, he's going to have to cough up the galleons like everyone else."
"George!"
"It's only fair!"
"C'mon, James, let's go find Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione," urged Harry. "The train will be leaving soon. See you later, George."
"Alright, alright, I'm coming," James said. He hung back a second longer as George knelt down to let him whisper into the side with the missing ear. "You were joking about making me pay, right?"
"Of course I was, but don't let your mum know that," George chuckled. "I'll send you the Snackboxes to you by the end of the week. If you mum asks, tell them a friend gave them to you!"
"I will!" James agreed.
"You two are impossible!" Frederic exclaimed.
"Are we sharing a compartment, Fred?" James asked, effectively changing the subject.
"Naturally," Frederic huffed. "I don't want to let you out of my sight."
"Keep talking like that and you'll be made a prefect in record time! I'll meet you on the train."
"C'mon, James!" Ginny called.
James ran off with a wide grin on his face.
"What's a prefect, Daddy?" Roxanne asked.
"Oh, Roxie, I told you what a prefect is," said George. "They're people who don't like to have fun, so they're given a badge to warn fun people."
"Wow!" Roxanne breathed. "I bet Freddie will make a really good prefect!"
George belatedly noticed that he was suddenly alone on the platform, save for five-year-old Roxanne on his shoulders, waving after James and the others. Fortunately, he didn't have to look far to relocate Frederic, who had joined Percy and his two daughters not too far away. Entering her third year and carrying a broomstick in hand, Molly's expression was completely blank as her father lectured her on broomstick regulations, with two-year-old Lucy in his arms.
"You know the rules, Molly, I don't want to hear that you've been flying around the school towers again," Percy lectured, his free hand on his hip. "You need to set a good example for you cousins."
"You mean James?" Molly sighed. "We're not even in the same house, Dad; I can't be held accountable for everything he does."
"You're accountable enough," said Percy. "Now, I want you to write to me the moment you get there and—"
"Really, Percy, what are you doing to your poor daughter?" George interrupted. "I think she knows the routine by now."
"Thank you," Molly nodded appreciatively to him. "See, Dad? Uncle George doesn't lecture me."
"That's because Uncle George needs to be lectured himself every so often," Percy joked.
"I think Uncle Percy has a point!" Frederic said loudly.
"You're virtual clones, so you think the same way," Molly drawled. "Really, I get enough of it from Dad. I'm just glad you're in Ravenclaw so I don't have to listen to you all the time."
"I think broomsticks are dangerous if they aren't handled properly!" Frederic continued. Molly rolled her eyes. "Aren't they, Uncle Percy?"
"That they are, Fred," nodded Percy. "It's good to know that someone aside from Lucy appreciates the rules!"
"Lucy's only two!" Roxanne pointed out.
"Let's hope she takes more after Mum," said Molly. "At least she knows how to have a laugh."
Lucy had looked up at the sound of her name, her eyes wide and her thumb stuck in her mouth.
"Where is Audrey?" George asked. "Did she get held up in Africa?"
"She did get held up, but not in Africa," explained Percy. "Someone messed up her portkey's destination and she ended up in Bulgaria. She said she'd probably just end up catching a flight back."
"On an airplane, you mean?"
"Yes," Percy muttered, the disapproval etched on his face.
"Audrey's a Muggle, Percy, at least she won't draw as much attention to herself as, say, Ron or Dad would."
"Yes, I suppose. Still, I'd feel better if she took a portkey..."
"A portkey is what got her stuck in Bulgaria in the first place."
The conductor suddenly called over the crowd that the train would be leaving shortly. Molly yelped.
"Alright, we better shove off," Molly announced.
"James is probably waiting for us," said Frederic.
Molly huffed her father and then her uncle, before giving her little sister a quick peck on the cheek. Lucy grimaced, but, as always, didn't protest.
"Love you lots!" said Molly. "I'll see you at Christmas!"
"Write when you get there," Percy urged. "And remember what I said about broomsticks!"
"Bye, Molly!" Roxanne called, nearly falling off her father's shoulders as she reached forwards to wave jubilantly.
George gently placed Roxanne on the ground, and hugged his son. Frederic balled his fingers into the fabric of his father's shirt.
"Let me know if you change you're mind about Skiving Snackboxes and I'll send you a supply to last the whole year," said George.
"That's not going to happen, Dad," Frederic replied.
"Can't blame me for trying," George broke the hug and ruffed his hair. "Have a good term. I guess I don't need to tell you to behave yourself because you always do."
"Unlike James," Frederic rolled his eyes. "Knowing him, he'll want to flood a bathroom right after our first class."
Frederic hugged his sister and promised to write to her, and then climbed with Molly into their carriage, their faces pressed against the window just as James sat down next to them. The conductor called a final time and the Hogwarts Express let out a loud whistle. George felt Roxanne wrap her small fingers around his hand, and he looked down at his daughter's slightly disappointed face.
"I wish I could go," Roxanne sighed. "Six years is a long time to wait."
"Yeah, but you have six years to think of all the pranks you'll get to pull!" George reminded her.
This seemed to cheer her up a bit, and she grinned.
George and Percy waved at their children as the train steadily glided from the platform and out to the rectangle of bright light at the far end. Even Lucy, a shy but serene smile on her face befitting someone much older than her tender two years, extended her hand to wave at the train.
Since the war had ended, George's smile had become a little more forced, but his grip on his daughter was a little bit tighter than it otherwise would have and he stood a little closer to Percy than he would have nineteen years ago. Suddenly, the hole was a little smaller and Percy looked at him, a smile on his face, as if they were on the same wavelength. It wasn't the same, no. But it was alright.
Their group was among the last of the families to leave the platform. George gazedat the spot where the train had pulled out of sight.
Are you seeing this, Fred? He thought.
And in the low rumble of the crowd departing back through the train station, he thought he heard a whispered response rising above Percy's suggestion that they have lunch at Diagon Alley.
You see a lot from here.