The darkness grew outside the castle walls, and eventually the Great Hall emptied out, leaving George alone in the middle of it.
The battle was over, the night's celebrations ended, but George wasn't happy. Slowly he stood, and made his way to the middle of the hall where the bodies still lay. He sought out a face—his face—his brother's face—in the gloom.
He slid slowly to his knees on the ground beside his brother, looking at Fred's cold, still face, resting a hand on Fred's hand.
A tear slid down his nose, and he pushed himself to his feet. He made his way out of the hall and down the steps, past Hagrid's cabin and into the woods.
He could see Harry's footprint's there, and he hesitated. He wasn't sure why, entirely, but he followed Harry's steps. He walked deeper into the woods, the warmth of the summer air wrapping him in its fog.
The forest was quiet, and more welcoming than it had ever seemed to him before.
After what seemed like ages to George, he noticed a small stone in one of Harry's footprints. He bent down and picked it up, rolling it over in his hand, until he saw a small symbol on it.
And then, as he pondered the symbol, he heard the voice he wanted to hear most just over his shoulder.
"Hullo, George," Fred's voice said. "I think I'm more holy than you now."
George stood ever so slowly and turned, afraid he would see nothing. But his brother was there. Somewhere between a ghost and alive, his brother grinned at him.
"Fred?" George asked hesitantly, reaching out his hand. His palm passed through his brother, but his brother just chuckled.
"I'm still dead, goof," Fred chastised him.
"But..." George looked down at the stone that still rested in his palm and slid it into his pocket. Immediately, Fred vanished. Panicking, George shoved his hand back into his pocket and pulled back out the stone, Fred reappearing before him.
"Don't do that," Fred scowled. "Gives me the willies."
"But... what..." George said, confused.
"That's a stone that brings back the dead," Fred explained, lowering himself to sit crosslegged on the ground. George sat with him. "Not really, as you can see, but... I can talk, can't I?"
George said nothing, rolling the stone over in his hand.
"But you aren't really here," George said after a moment, his voice cracking.
"No," Fred agreed.
"I miss you, Fred. I miss you so much. I don't know what I'm supposed to do without you. We were a team..." George said, tears flooding his eyes. He blinked them away impatiently; he didn't want to waste a moment of getting to see his brother's face.
"We still are a team," Fred said, glancing up at the sky above the trees. "I'm still with you, George."
"But not really."
"Yes, really. I'm always with you."
"I don't understand," George said, choking back a sob.
"Harry does," Fred replied. "Maybe Harry can explain it to you. But I'm always with you. Always watching over you."
"I want to go with you," George said, the tears coursing down his cheeks freely now.
"No," Fred said sharply. "Don't die. You have a future, George. Don't throw it away." When George didn't reply, he added, "What would happen to the joke shop with both of us gone?"
"I wish," George said, his eyes shining as he looked at his brother, wanting to hug him. "I wish that... that that time we put our names in the goblet of fire wasn't the only time we got to see each other grow old."
"I do too," Fred replied.
"Did it hurt? Dying, I mean. You didn't hurt, did you?"
"No," Fred shook his head. "It's surprisingly painless. Sort of like flying, really. Freedom."
"Fred..."
"Live for me. For both of us. Hear me? You have to live enough for the both of us now. Have kids. I'm always with you, alright?"
"I don't want to lose you again. You won't leave me, will you?" George asked, brushing some tears from his face.
"I've told you I'd never really leave you," Fred told him. "I'll wait for you, so we can go to wherever next together. But you have to live for me. Really LIVE."
"Alright," George said, putting out his hand again to try to touch his brother. Of course, he didn't connect.
"Leave the stone here, George," Fred told him, putting his own ghostly hand over Georges. It was like a gust of warm air.
"But..." George began to protest.
"Leave it here," Fred repeated. "I'm not going to really leave you, George. Every time you look in the mirror, you'll see me there. I'll always be with you. Leave the stone... it'll hurt you more."
"Alright," George agreed, crying even harder. "I miss you so, so much."
"I miss you to. But live for me. Put the stone down, George, and remember I'm still here, even if you can't see me."
George took one last look at his brother's face, which was smiling at him again. Sad tears glistened in Fred's eyes as he placed the stone on the soft earth, pulling his fingers away, and Fred disappeared.
"Good bye, Fred," George whispered, standing up and walking back out of the woods to the castle.
"At least I got to say goodbye," George whispered as he glanced over his shoulder at the trees behind him. He knew he'd never find the stone again.
But Fred's words calmed him.
He could do it.
