Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
A/n: IMPORTANT, PLEASE DO NOT SKIP...this particular section of the story takes place when the twins are five years old. Keep this in mind as you read, please.
Definition One: separated or isolated.
I was crying. Not just a single tear, no, but neither was I bleating like a lost lamb. But I was scared, and I was sad. I was so, so afraid. So afraid that I'd never see him again. It was an awful feeling.
I meandered a little further, checking under the porch and then in the old garage, looking hard for a sign of him amongst the strange Muggle tools and devices that Father always kept in here. But not a single thing caught my eye: no glistening shine of red hair, no spot of freckles…nothing.
Discouraged and sad, I slowly and somberly made my way upstairs to our room.
Mother didn't bother asking me what was wrong…sometimes, I wondered if she even saw that I was alone. That in itself should have been weird.
I sat up in our bed and cried silently, feeling guilty and terrible for having lost my own brother…my own twin. I was awful! How could I have let myself lose him? How could I…?
"Georgie?" My ears perked at that sound. "Georgie, are you alright? You never found me!" There he was, smiling down at me from his hiding-place: he'd somehow managed to crawl into the little space above our bed; a hole in the ceiling.
"Fred! You scared me!" I squeaked, too astonished and delighted by his sudden appearance to be embarrassed.
"Well, it is kind of your fault for not finding me. But I guess I should have known that I'm better at hiding than you." He dropped down onto our bed beside and once he'd gotten into a sitting position, he put a freckled arm around my back. "Now stop crying, Georgie, and let's go get some lunch."
I nodded, and reluctant to let him go again, I walked with my hand in his all the way down the stairs, only breaking apart at the table. Mom was busy trying to keep a tiny, two-year-old Ron from bumping his head on the table as he ran around the kitchen. Fred and I smiled at him.
After lunch, we decided to find something else to do. Fred suggested a game. "Alright," I said, "But no more hide-and-seek."
Fred pouted but agreed.
"I'm sorry, maybe tomorrow? And promise me you won't hide so good next time!"
"Of course Georgie." We went outside together to discover what was out there, the warm spring-time sun beating down on our backs.