Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters, they belong to J.K. Rowling.

Fred woke up.

Grass. He was laying in grass. Or, he assumed it was grass. It looked like grass— green and, well, grassy. But he couldn't be sure because it didn't itch on his skin the way grass did, or smell of grass. In fact, he felt nothing, smelt nothing, at all. Strange. But, no, that wasn't quite right. He could feel his body, just nothing surrounding it. As if he were the only real thing here…

His face ached and he let the smile he'd held on it fall. When was I smiling? Why? One question turned to two as looked down on himself and realized he was as naked as the day he was born. The hell's going on here? He readjusted to a sitting position, looking around. This fired…it looked familiar…that patch of dirt over there and those bushes…I'm home. Or an echo of home, at least. The yard was devoid of The Burrow and the old boots and garden gnomes, but it was unmistakably his yard.

What is happening?

He'd been at Hogwarts. Fighting. Percy— laughing with Percy…then, an explosion.

No. No no no. No way in hell. I can't be…

But there was really only one explanation, wasn't there? Fred shook his head— he couldn't understand this. It didn't make sense. He wanted things to make sense, he wanted things to be okay, and god dammit I want clothes. Before he'd even finished thinking it, a jumper and slacks had appeared by his hand. He lumbered to his feet, pulled on the slacks quickly and then reached for the jumper. It seemed off, somehow. Oddly…blank. No F, he realized. There was always an 'F' on his jumper, and George always had a 'G' on his…

"You must be little Freddie." Fred started at the voice. He spun to face the voice and found that he had company. Two men with red hair and freckles stood before him. They looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn't place them.

"Pleased to meet you, gentlemen," Fred pantomimed tipping a hat, "Not to be rude, but remind me again how I'm related to you?" Obviously they had to be relatives, with that hair and those freckles…not that it made much sense for them to be here. But then again, here didn't make much sense to begin with.

"You mean Molls never talked about us? I'm wounded!" One of the men grinned.

"I feel betrayed," the other said, aghast.

"Utterly heartbroken," the first spoke again.

"You look like Mum, a little," Fred thought aloud. The photograph! Yes, he knew who these men were. "Fabian and Gideon, yeah?" His uncles. His dead uncles. No no no…panic started rising in Fred's chest, but he pushed it down. The men nodded.

"We're here to, well, break the bad news to you." Fred didn't know which one spoke, but it didn't matter. Bad news…what bad news?

But he knew, of course he knew. Deep down.

But I can't be dead. He couldn't be. If he were then he couldn't be with George and that wasn't how this worked. They were always together. He couldn't be dead. He couldn't be without his twin.

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Freddie Bear, but your life has come to its tragic and glorious end. And now you're here, in the in-between place newly deads go."

"No. I'm not dead. I can't be." Fred ached with the effort to hold on to the lie. He ached with the want for his twin to be there with him…

" 'S not so bad. You can go on; find your place and all that."

"But I know my place!" Fred exploded. "It's with George!"

"He's not dead yet."

"I know that. That's why I can't be dead!"

Fabian and Gideon exchanged a look. Fred knew that look. It was the one he'd shared with George countless times; the one through which a million unspoken conversations were passed. One of the men stepped forward and placed a hand on Fred's shoulder, looking him the eye. Fred pointedly looked away, focusing instead on the man's robes, and, he realized with a pang that there was 'G' on the lapel. 'G' was for George, what was this bloke doing, prancing about with it on his robes? But, of course, 'G' did not exclusively stand for George. Hell, Ginny got 'G's too. So this must be Gideon, then.

"It's awful, huh? Being separated from your brother, your twin? Fabian and I died within the same ten minutes. I died first, though…worst 9 ½ minutes of my life— err, death." Fred could see the sorrow and empathy in Gideon's face.

"And what did you do? Just walked off with some dead relatives, did you?" Fred demanded.

"I waited."

"Well, there you have it, then. I'll wait too." Not a bad idea at all.

"You can't, we need to help you move on," a frown pulled on Gideon's lips, the frown of a concerned uncle. "It was different for me. No one came to fetch me until Fabian came, our deaths were so close. Come on Fred, you'll be together soon enough."

"No. I'm waiting. I don't care if I have to sit here for a hundred years, I'm not going anywhere without George— not even on."

"Don't be a prat, you can't wait around in limbo," Fabian insisted. Fred shot him a sneer, then returned his attention to Gideon.

"Would you have left? Without Fabian? Even if someone had come to help you on?"

Gideon looked at him for a moment, a sad smile replacing the worried frown on his face. "No. Not ever."

With that, he gave Fred'd arm a firm squeeze, then retreated to stand next to his brother. Fabian rolled his eyes, but shrugged, "at least I can tell Molly I tried."

"Well then, Fab and I will head on our way. I suppose we'll see you in a couple decades." The brothers started walking away, only it was not so much walking as it was fading. Then Fabian paused.

"One more thing. If you plan on waiting around for George, you'll need these," and with a wave of his hand, two sets of neatly folded robes appeared next to Fred. Then the Prewett brothers faded completely.

They don't seem half bad, really. He turned to inspect the robes, and smiled brightly at the little 'F' tucked on the lapel of one and the little 'G' on the lapel of the other. As it should be.

So Fred settled in to wait. The want for his twin was as strong as ever, but he tried to push it away. At least he's a alive. Let me wait a long while. Let him live out a full and happy life. And let him return to my side when he's good and ready.

A fluttering sound pulled Fred from his thoughts. It would be just his luck, really, for this limbo place to have bug infestation. But when his eyes located the source of the sound, it was not a bug they saw. It was…an ear? Yes— an ear with wings. A very familiar ear with wings. Fred grinned, then let out a laugh. I guess I'll have company while I wait.

"Well, hello there, George."