AN: Just a little oneshot I thought I'd write. If you like, please review :)
Laughter for Two
As George made his way through the empty joke shop to the apartment above, the oppressive silence made him feel as if he would explode at any moment. Every footstep seemed as loud as thunder and he felt more alone than ever. He could hear muffled voices from the street below and he envied their bliss. They had not been at Hogwarts for that fateful battle, they had not seen the things he had seen, they had not lost what he had lost. George pushed those hurtful thoughts aside and looked around the apartment. The walls seemed to echo with the laughter, the jokes, and the ideas he and Fred had shared. It hurt to even think his name and George blinked back tears and gritted his teeth against the horrible agony he felt inside. He had a constant ache, a constant burning in the back of his throat from a torrent of tears that threatened to spill forth. This time he could not hold them back, and the apartment blurred as a river of tears poured down his cheeks.
Everything was shattered, everything was changed, and he had no idea, or the strength to figure out, what to do. He had no idea what he was going to do with the joke shop. He couldn't imagine running it without Fred, and it was even harder to imagine coming up with new products alone. Maybe he would stay at the Burrow for a while, see how things went.
As he brushed away the tears he found himself mindlessly looking through a closet of random things of his and Fred's; a box of photographs, a stack of flyers for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, some mismatched socks. He reached further through the junk and grabbed hold of what felt like a large frame. When he held it up and looked at it he could have easily mistaken it for a mirror and thought he was staring at his own reflection, except for the subtle differences that were easy for him to pick out. A painting of his twin was looking back at him.
He would have said something, but surprise had temporarily frozen his thoughts.
"What's the matter with you?" The painting spoke. "You gone mute?"
George still could not seem to find his voice.
The painted Fred frowned and squinted at him. "Are you crying? You look bloody awful,"
"I think you would be crying too." George spoke finally. "And if you weren't I'd be a trifle insulted."
"You would." Fred leaned back in his frame. "You were always the sensitive one."
George could hardly believe he was having this conversation. It had left him speechless, something that never happened, and it was a bit difficult to process. He had completely forgotten that he and Fred had gotten paintings of themselves done back when they had first opened the shop. He supposed his own was buried somewhere in the closet as well.
"So how are things holding up?" Fred asked. "I suppose everything's gone to pot now that I'm not there."
"A bit, if it makes you feel better." George said, guilt creeping into his voice.
Fred leaned forward, detecting the guilt. "Hang on," He said slowly. "You weren't thinking of closing the joke shop, were you?"
George stalled and Fred's eyes widened.
"You stupid git!" He said, shaking his head. "After all the work we did, after all the griping from mum and then showing her up, you're going to close?"
"I hadn't said for certain!" George argued. "I didn't know, I don't know!" He could feel tears coming again. "Nothing's right anymore."
"Of course it is," Fred said, his tone calming. "You can't give up on everything just because I'm not there. You have to keep going for that reason. You have to laugh for the both of us now mate. Or is the burden too much for you?"
George shook his head, knowing the painting's words were true. If his twin were there he'd have a few things to say. He and Fred had worked so hard to start Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, and to shut it down and never laugh again would be an insult to his memory.
"Right then." The painting said. "Now pull yourself together and hang me up, somewhere important."
George gave it a look. "How about the toilet?"
Fred brightened. "There you go, a joke! Well done,"
George smiled a little and took the painting downstairs and hung it up in the shop. There, he could watch their thriving business and joke with the customers and visitors, except when he would be taken down to provide ideas and advice to George when developing a new product.
Weasley's Wizard Wheezes stayed open, as popular as ever, and George, though he still missed his brother and sometimes found himself crying unexpectedly, dished out the jokes as strong as before and always made sure there was laughter for two.