Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters used in this story.
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George didn't realize it when the Great Hall erupted with celebration over the end of the war. He didn't even notice he was the only one still kneeling beside Fred's body. Fred's body. George shivered. How did he suddenly become a 'body' now that he wasn't breathing anymore?
George was amazed he hadn't cried yet. Fred was his best friend, and this had always been his worst fear—living without him. Hell, Lupin's damn Bogart in their fifth year proved that for sure. But he didn't even feel the slightest urge to cry. He hadn't really felt anything. He was completely blank. Have I been nothing but an extension of Fred all this time? George thought absurdly, and now that he's gone, there's nothing left for me?
He looked back down at his brother's lifeless face and flinched. No one had tried to close his eyes yet. He lifted his hand to close them himself, but then he noticed the small smile tugging on his lips. George smiled back as he felt his throat tightening. "That's so like you." he whispered quietly.
"GEORGE! George, are you still with us? What the hell was that?" George blinked, and the faces of Lee Jordon and Alicia Spinnet came into view. "You went a bit dodgy on us there, mate. You alright?" George furrowed his brow, trying to process where he was. He wasn't here just ten seconds ago—could he have imagined that whole thing? It couldn't be! It felt so real—George could still feel the strain in his throat. "George?" Lee asked, looking genuinely worried.
"I—I have to find Fred. Now." He didn't look to see the others' reactions, and turned and ran. He wished he could think clearly, because he had no idea where he was going. "Fred?" he called ridiculously, his head swiveling back and forth as he passed each corridor, scanning for red hair in a royal blue sweater. "FRED?" He shouted again, growing slightly hysterical. That scene had been too real—it was going to happen. George clenched his eyes shut. God no. He thought helplessly, please, God, no. Anything but that. His nails were digging into his palms as he tried to keep his hands from shaking.
It was just a stupid feeling. George told himself, Sure, you've never had anything like that before, but that doesn't mean…George shook his head and kept running. This was ridiculous, wasn't it? Honestly, how could Fred be dead? He was a bit reckless, but not to the point that he'd ever put himself in mortal danger. A memory suddenly flashed through George's mind, of a six-year-old Fred convincing him that his flying charm would work; they just needed to get somewhere high enough.
George swore loudly and tried desperately to tap into the sixth twin sense people always asked if they had. They had never really thought about it, really, and always told curious people that they didn't know, but maybe they did. If he didn't feel anything now, was that a good sign or a bad one? George realized his heart was starting to go at least twice the speed it usually did. "God, please don't be dead…" George murmured to himself, "Please…" Had he checked this corridor already? Shit, where was he? Why wasn't Hogwarts ever this confusing when he and Fred were taking classes here?
Thoughts were starting to overwhelm him. This was too much. George stopped and leaned heavily against a wall, shutting his eyes. Suddenly, he didn't care who else heard him, and screamed at the top of his lungs until his already tight throat felt scorched with the effort. "FRED!"
"What?"
George's eyes snapped open and he wheeled around to face his twin, looking tired, a bit worse for wear and the slightest bit frightened beneath his trademark smirk, but unmistakably alive. "Fred!" Before he could stop himself, George flung his arms around his brother's neck. "I thought you were dead!" Fred laughed bewilderedly, patting his back in reassurance.
"Wh—why?"
George shook his head, feeling the frantic burning in his throat fading away. "Forget it. It's far too hard to explain. Where—where did you go?"
"I was with Percy." Fred's eyes lit up briefly, "Oh, you should've been there, George, he made a joke! It was a momentous occasion!" He flailed his arms briefly, as if this proved its importance, and then continued, "We knocked out a few Death Eaters, but then we met up with Ron and the others, and he wanted to go with them, so I came to find you." He pulled away from George and looked at him, giving him a nervous smile. "Alright there, George? You look like you haven't seen me in years."
George smiled. "Wasn't ready to start preparing for that." If Fred didn't know what he meant by that, he was rather good at hiding it. He didn't even look confused.
For a moment there was silence. "I had one, too." Fred said finally, and George balked. "You said you thought I was dead." He laughed slightly, and then added, "I thought you were 'til I heard you shouting." George didn't say anything, unsure of how he should take this information. Fred had the same image? What could that possibly mean? Were they both going to die?
For some reason this didn't scare George quite as much. Before George could ask Fred anything else, Fred interrupted excitedly, "So how many did you get, then?" George blinked down at his wand. He'd almost forgotten what had been going on, and it took him a moment to reorient himself.
"Oh, uh…'bout ten, I'd say."
"Ha!" Fred exclaimed, tapping his brother gently on the head with the handle of his wand, "Twelve. Firewiskeys for the next year are on you, then." George scowled at him.
"Now, wait a minute! I said about ten! It could've easily been more than twelve! That's—"
"Ah-ah-ah, brother dear. You said 'about ten', so I'm likely to believe you mean either ten or less. Should've been more specific if you didn't want to loose."
"I was worried for your life" George explained wildly.
"A likely story. You just want me to take the fall out of sympathy! I think not."
"War's not over yet! I could still win!"
"Nope, I'm afraid I have to forbid it. Got a nasty gash on your leg, there, George. Off to the Great Hall with you." He pointed to a bloody stain on his brother's pants. George couldn't even tell if that was his blood or not. He rolled his eyes
"Oh, don't be ridicul—STUPIFY!"
Fred whipped around just in time to see a Death Eater that had been sneaking around the corner hit the floor. He turned back to George, who was grinning as he twirled his wand smugly in his hand. "Ha. And I'd say it's safe to assume that by taking out that one, I just saved your life, so it should count for two. Now we're tied, you cheating bastard."
Fred smirked at him. "Alright, you sneaky, rule-changing prat. Game on." He reached out and grabbed George's wrist. "But this time, I'm keeping an eye on you, to make sure you don't cheat." George smiled, and rolled his eyes again.
"Oh, please! Says the one who cheated in the first place!" He said teasingly, but he heard what Fred had meant to tell him behind his words, and he hoped the same sentiment was repeated in his own.
"I promise I won't lose you again."
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A/N: Okay, so I know this isn't that great, and I apologize, but my fingers have been itching to write something and seriously nothing has been coming up, because I'm sick of being depressed about Fred's death so I've emersed myself into Pushing Daisies, 'cause it's been making me feel like my old chipper self again, right, but now it's busy being a pawn in the Writer's Strike, so this is my refusal to give up my happy disillusion, and we all know happiness does not a good writer make. eyeroll Anyway, I've got several half-finished stories, but this is the first thing that I've declared done in about a month. Did anyone miss me? (Har har) So, to those who celebrate it, Happy Christmas! and I've got to wake up in about four hours, so I should probably go to bed :D
