The Burrow was enveloped by an eerie silence and the inky blackness of late night as George sat on the couch next to the fireplace. Close to tears, he stared blankly at the dancing flames - the only source of light in the otherwise darkened house.

It had been exactly seven years since the Battle at Hogwarts took place, marking its seventh Anniversary today. The day that left scars on hundreds of wizarding families… Seven years since he lost a part of his soul, his brother. How ironic it was that the person he took the most for granted was the one who ended up leaving him.

His mind was a blur as different memories of his brother struggled to resurface and make their existence known, playing over and over in his mind like a stuck video tape.

Just then, he felt a pair of small arms go around his middle, snapping him out of his reverie and he looked down to find his 4-year-old son's sympathetic face peering up at him.

"Why are you crying, Dad?" He inquired worriedly, crawling onto the couch next to him.

Startled, George brushed his hand across his cheeks and was surprised to find them damp.

"Are you sad because it's Uncle Fred's death... Ummm... Death's happy birthday today?" His son asked, tilting his head adorably.

A faint smile crept on George's face at his son's innocence. "How do you know that, Freddie?"

"Mum told me and she also asked me not to bother you too much today. Where did Uncle Fred go, Dad?" He queried.

George looked thoughtfully at his son who bore a startling resemblance with the person he was named after and spoke slowly, "Well... He went to live in Heaven."

"Can't he come down to meet us sometime?" Freddie asked.

"Nay, that's the only problem. He can't come down. He only watches us from afar." George explained patiently.

Freddie remained silent for a while contemplating this new information with a serious look on his little face before his eyes sparkled with a sudden idea.

"Hey, he can't come down but we can always go and meet him on my new firebolt!" He gushed excitedly, pointing towards his new toy broomstick, suspended about two feet in midair.

George laughed loudly without realizing, ruffling his son's mop of ginger hair causing him to frown lightly at his idea not being taken seriously. Huffing indignantly, he picked up his father's wand and waved it randomly in the air, sending a colorful shower of ribbons on them both.

"Freddie, no playing with the wand." George admonished him gently. "Hey, hold on a second, aren't you supposed to be in bed right now?" He frowned playfully at his son who grinned back cheekily.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Well then, come with me. I'll tuck you in before your Grandma finds us both here and tells us off." He whispered secretively in his son's ear who giggled.

"Not me, only you. Grandma never gets angry at me!" He beamed happily.

"I know! She's so unfair, right?! I think she loves you more than me." George pretended to pout and Freddie burst out laughing.

Together, they made their way to the twin's former bedroom where George tucked his son in Fred's bed which had now been given to Freddie.

"Just one more thing, Dad. You named me after Uncle Fred, right?"

"Yes, I did and you look very much like him too." George smiled down at his boy with tender eyes.

Freddie turned to gaze at the huge portrait of his deceased uncle hanging on the bedroom wall, where Fred appeared to be snoring loudly, his head lolling on the armchair, he was sitting on.

Winking at his father, Freddie announced in a loud voice, "I don't know Dad but I think I'm the better looking one."
He gave a quick cheeky grin before diving underneath the covers while the portrait of Fred promptly let out a loud

'Heyyy! I'm listening!'

George smiled hearing his son's suppressed laugher and his mind drifted back to the time he and Fred were at Number 4, Private Drive and after taking the Polyjuice Potion that transformed them both into identical Harrys, Fred had uttered extremely similar words.

"I dunno, though. I think I'm still better looking." The familiar voice from a lifetime ago, echoed in his head.
George felt a warm feeling envelope his entire being and at that moment he knew that Fred had never completely left them alone.