I'll see you later
by: Faithful Wheezy
DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILERS. He remembered the last time he saw Fred's face. "I'll see you later," he'd said confidently; but even as he walked away, George felt in his heart that both of them knew that one of them wouldn't make it… one shot.
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling created them, I messed with them.
-x-
The battle was beginning.
Inside the castle, plans were hurriedly being made and carried out, battle stations were being assigned, extra precautions and protection was being made; there was a flurry of hysterical excitement everywhere. And yet, in the midst of all the chaos, there were still smiles to be given. There were still last hugs and kisses. There were sad looks and melancholy touches and tears being shed… and there were many friends saying good-bye to each other as they separated to each take action in battle. Amid the nervous breakdowns and the swishing of wands, there were two people that anyone in general would be surprised to see talking to each other quietly, without a trace of boisterousness in their voices—the most serious conversation a person would ever see them have.
"We're going to win this one, George." The first red-headed male said, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his robes. "I can feel it."
"And if anyone decides to become a slimy traitor, I say we throw them to the Death Eaters." George replied dispassionately. "Or kill 'em."
His twin seemed to consider it for a moment. "Or we could Imperiuse them!" he said brightly. "And maybe once we win we can keep them Imperiused, and they can do all our stock-keeping, paperwork, supply lists, laundry…"
George snorted. "Fred, you never cease to amaze me with your never-ending well of wisdom."
The two men looked at each other for a moment before they simultaneously walked forward and hugged. When they both let go of each other, their eyes were moist—but by blinking furiously, they hoped that they could pass it off as an allergic reaction known as Vold-itus.
Turning away so that he could wipe the offending tear away, George roughly pulled up the neckline of his robes and quickly swiped at his eyes. When he turned back to Fred, he noticed that his brother had done the same, and decided to let it pass.
"Where are you going to be fighting?" George asked gruffly, clenching his wand.
Fred began cracking his knuckles absent-mindedly, and looked up to the ceiling. The sky was beginning to darken.
"I'm one of the Gryffindor Tower fighters," he said, now beginning to shift from foot to foot, as though anxious to begin to fight, but at the same time, wanting to stay with his brother.
"While you're there," George said seriously, "keep our old dormitory safe. It would break my heart to find my old four-poster bed on fire."
"I'll protect it with my life," Fred deadpanned; but his face held the slightest hint of a smile. "What about you? Anything useful of ours you're going to be protecting?"
George waved an airy hand. "Aaah, just the Astronomy Tower. I'll try and protect the tea leaves but they can have all the bloody crystal balls they want—"
"—but that's the best snog spot this school has!" Fred interrupted, his eyes wide. "We must not take the luxury of the Astronomy Tower away from the future generations Hogwarts is going to house!" Seizing George by the neck of his robes, he shook them. "You must protect the Astronomy Tower! Without it, Hogwarts is doomed!"
"Do I have to protect the crystal balls?"
Fred released his brother, and for the second time, appeared to be pondering George's statement. "You can let them steal a couple—they're heavy, aren't they?"
"Hey!" George's face seemed to brighten. "We can just bash them over the Death Eaters' heads!" Annoyed at the perplexed look on Fred's face, he frowned. "We can!"
"Can those things even break?" Fred asked uncertainly.
George paused, and flung his arms wide in an elaborate shrug. "We can experiment?"
Fred roared with laughter. "Well, experimenting is the only way to get good results."
"And, of course, we would be the two people to know the best about that."
Fred was about to reply when Professor McGonagall's voice carried over the surrounding noise.
"Gryffindor Tower fighters! Report to your stations!"
"Damn," Fred swore quietly. His heart, which had been beating undetectably for the last few minutes, had suddenly increased its tempo and sound at his former teacher's announcement. Turning back to George, who was attempting to hide a pained expression, he pasted on a confident smile. "Well, that's me," he said with forced bravado.
George, too, put on a grin that merely made him look like he had eaten one of Hagrid's rock cakes. "What, you're the whole army of the Gryffindor Tower fighters?" he joked lightly.
"Of course I am," Fred said, flexing his wand arm. "I'm all they need."
Again, their conversation was interrupted, though it was not Professor McGonagall who was addressing them.
"Astronomy Tower fighters!" George struggled to contain a groan as he spotted Professor Sprout roaring through a megaphone. "Up to the Astronomy Towers immediately and report to your stations!"
This time, Fred was wearing a pained expression, but appeared to recover quickly.
"Well, that's me," he said, echoing his twin's earlier words. Grinning at the hand that Fred clapped over-exaggeratedly to his brow, he flexed his own wand arm. "Because I'm all they need."
Professor Flitwick's announcement was soon followed by an angry McGonagall and Sprout, who seized the megaphone from poor tiny Flitwick with such force that he was flung up into the air and nearly trampled by a horde of Ravenclaw Tower fighters.
"Last calls for Gryffindor and Astronomy Tower Fighters!"
The grins that had finally found their ways to Fred and George's faces evaporated instantly, and they stared at each other helplessly. They seemed to have something to say to each other, but didn't know how to begin.
"Last calls!" Professor Sprout squawked.
A determined, confident look crossed Fred's face, and he nodded defiantly.
"We should go," he said to George quietly.
"Last calls!" Professor McGonagall repeated, her brisk voice sounding even more business-like than usual under the circumstances. "All remaining fighters must report to your battle stations!"
Once more, Fred and George hugged, not hesitating to let all the fear and tension flow. When they pulled away, they clasped each other's hands in a final handshake, tears at the corners of their eyes.
"I'll see you later, Gred," George said confidently, grasping Fred's hand.
"And I'll see you later, Forge," Fred replied, clutching his twin's hand with equal strength. He seemed to be struggling to smile.
"Last calls! Report to your stations for the head count!"
As though in slow motion, Fred and George's hands fell away; and with one, last, sad look, they walked away from each other; each step they took farther away from the other seemed to be getting heavier. His heartbeat seemed to slow to the pace of his footsteps—as he reached the staircase leading to the Astronomy Tower, he found with a start that he had been counting them slowly, as though treasuring what might be his last heartbeats.
And with each pound his heart drummed out, George knew in his heart that both of them—he and Fred—he knew… that one of them wouldn't make it.
-x-
And then, it was over.
Harry and Voldemort's fight hadn't lasted more than a minute—the bantering and insults not included.
George knew he should be happy—Voldemort was gone, the Wizarding World was free from the frequent threats of death; children could play freely outside, Hogwarts would continue to resume every year without fear of being shut down or infiltrated, families and friends could celebrate again… but he, George, felt as though he could never celebrate ever again.
Even though everybody around him was jumping and screaming and crying with joy, he felt like he could not. All he could see was Fred's body, lying on the floor of the Great Hall; part of the ranks of the dead who had died trying to make the world a better place to live in. He grieved for Remus and Tonks as well, he loved them, too—but still, all he could see was his brother.
His brother's confident smile that they would see each other later.
Yeah, I saw you later, George thought to himself bitterly. But I wanted to see you alive…
With a start, George found that there was water running down his cheek, and looked up to the enchanted ceiling in confusion—even if it was raining outside, the ceiling didn't rain drops that made it all the way to the floor… they evaporated half-way down, didn't they? But then, with another start of realization, George touched a hand to his cheek and found that the source of the mysterious water was coming from his own eyes, and he wiped them away hurriedly. To his horror, more tears merely came, and even more continued to stream down; then he gave up and merely let his tears flow.
While everyone clustered around Harry, George took the opportunity to escape back to the row of the dead, where his brother still lay. Not caring who saw him, he knelt down beside Fred's head, and stared at his twin's face quietly for a few moments, where a smile was still on his face, as though he was having the best dream of his life. At once, the memories that he and Fred had had together overwhelmed him; taking their first steps, him sticking their father's wand up Fred's nose (and later getting it shoved up his own in retaliation), riding their first toy broomsticks, playing Quidditch with Bill and Charlie, experimenting with Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, opening their joke shop, finally, with help from Harry's Triwizard Tournament winnings…
Now George's eyes were dry. As he stared at his brother's lifeless body, he again found himself counting his heartbeats—he knew that Fred was asking him to let him go. And he, George, knew that he had to.
"I'll let you go," George murmured to Fred. Taking his brother's cold hand, he clutched it and closed his eyes. "I'll let you go, but you're going to live on in me."
He sat that way for a few moments, Fred's hand in his, his eyes closed. Only when a particularly loud cheer emitted from the crowd of people congratulating Harry, Ron, and Hermione did George finally open his eyes. He hesitated, and a grin finally broke through. Rearranging Fred's hands to clasp underneath his head and crossing his legs at the ankle made him look as though he were merely relaxing amongst a row of sleeping people. Standing up, George nodded; the same, defiant nod Fred had made earlier before going off to fight.
"I'll see you later," he whispered to Fred, looking up at the sky.
And as he walked away, the smile on Fred's face seemed to widen.
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