Me: I just read the seventh book for the millionth time, but I can't get over it. She killed Fred. She killed Fred, dammit! You can't do that!
George: imagine how I feel. Blimey! Your acting as if he was your twin!
Me: I'm in love with him!
George: we don't own Harry Potter!
Me: If we did, Fred would NEVER HAVE DIED! *Cries in emo corner*
George: he left me...
Fred: I'm right here, you git.
George: Oh... *glomps Fred* Don't scare me like that again!
Me: my super-special-awesome author powers have brung you back to life! (we don't own YGOTAS)
Mirror, mirror, on the wall,
Who will stand and who will fall?
George was on the bed, shivering and staring at the wall. His room. His brother's room. Their room. His mother was knocking on the door again, trying to get him to come out. She could open the door herself, using magic, but she didn't.
"George? Georgie, I'm sorry! Please come out!" She pleaded, her voice muffled by the wood. She was sorry. George didn't care.
It had been earlier, George's pain was still there, but he was hiding it behind a smile. It was a usual Weasley dinner, they were laughing over something Percy had said. After the battle, Percy had come home to stay for awhile.
Mirror mirror, on the wall
why do I feel so small?
"Percy, what was that even supposed to mean?" Ginny giggled.
"Don't be vulgar!" Molly tried to scold, but she too was laughing.
"Oh, good one, Perc!" George was laughing loudly, his pain forgotten along with the empty chair beside him.
"Don't encourage him, Fred." Molly laughed. Everyone froze. George's blue eyes grew wide at his mothers words. She gasped and brought a hand to her mouth, a look of horror in her eyes.
"G-George, I didn't mean..." She tried to say. The remaining Weasley twin slowly set down his fork as everyone stared at him.
"I'm fine." He muttered. Slowly, he began to laugh. A giggle escaped him and he felt hot tears stinging his eyes.
"G-Georgie?" Molly asked quietly. George just kept laughing into the silence.
"Your still getting us mixed up, mum! Even now you can't tell us apart!" George was laughing hysterically, tears streaming down his face in silver ribbons.
"George, stop!" Arthur cried, standing up. Bill slowly stood and came around the table. He got George to his feet, ignoring the rest of the family.
"He needs sleep. Just give him some time." He told them quietly, leading George to the stairs. The laughter stopped and horrible grief-filled sobs echoed through the Burrow.
The knocking had stopped. George slowly sat up, realizing that he'd fallen asleep. His usual nightmare hadn't made an appearance tonight. The nightmare where Fred died. Over and over again. George was always helpless, he couldn't do anything to save his twin. His other half was gone, so why was George still there?
The boy had once heard someone say that twins were two halves of the same soul, and they needed each other to be complete. George would never be complete again.
He stood and made his way for the door, but paused. He slowly turned around, and that's when he saw it. He saw Fred.
Fred looked horrible, with puffy red eyes and a gaunt face. Sorrow was etched into every pore of the boy.
George stared at Fred for a long time, wondering if he had finally lost it. Then he realized something. This Fred only had one ear.
It was just George's reflection. Something came over him then. He knew that every time he looked in a mirror, he wouldn't see himself. He would just see Fred. It was like a costume. A mask he couldn't take off. For the rest of his life he was going to look exactly like Fred.
It was a mask he would wear for the rest of his life. The mask of his brother.
Mirror, mirror on the wall
I'm ready to leave the masquerade ball.
Molly ran up the stairs to George's room as there was a horrible, strangled cry of despair and a crashing noise. She threw open the door with magic to find her son cowering in the corner, his blue eyes wide and misty. "It's always gonna be there!" He sobbed, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
The mirror was shattered, the shards lying around the room. There was blood trickling down from George's hand, mingling with his tears.
"Georgie, what's wrong?" Molly asked, walking over quickly. She heard pounding footsteps as the rest of the Weasleys made their way down to George's room.
"He was in the mirror! Every time it's him! Not me! Not me...!" George sobbed again, holding his legs to his chest. "I just see Fred, dammit!" Molly looked at the shards of glass and realized what had happened.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall
Will you answer if I call?
"Fred? Fred, why'd you leave me?" George asked the empty room, sitting on his bed in despair. "Fred? Are you there?" He was crying now, silently.
"Why won't you answer?" He asked. So many questions, and yet he was no closer to the truth. "I'm calling your name! Why won't you answer?!" He broke down, sobbing into his hands. A skinny arm slowly wrapped around his shoulder and his head jerked upwards, tears glistening in the dim light.
"It's alright, George." Ginny said quietly, a look of sadness on her face. Her brother was broken, after Fred was gone he couldn't seem to keep it together. He had yet to return to the shop.
"No it isn't, Gin. He's gone. I don't know what to do anymore." He whispered, looking at the ground as tears blurred his vision.
"It'll work out. Give it time, it will heal." Ginny whispered gently, he was quiet for a moment.
"If someone ripped out your heart, and then put it back in your chest... would it heal, Ginny?" He asked softly, closing his cerulean eyes.
"George, which would you rather have?" She asked, "Fred as your twin for twenty years and dying... or Fred having been your older brother and living?" George was silent.
He wouldn't have given up having Fred as his twin for the world. And they knew it.
Mirror mirror, on the wall
You aren't real, after all.
George had gone mad. Or maybe he was Fred. The boy wasn't even sure by now. He just knew that something was wrong in his mind.
"Fred or George, Fred or George?" He laughed softly, "Which one am I?" He honestly didn't remember. His entire life, they had made a game of it. Confusing people, telling them they were wrong.
'I'm not Fred, I'm George!'
'Not really, I am Fred!'
'Tricked you!'
It never got old for them, a joke they kept playing. But who was he? After his twin had died, he just couldn't seem to remember.
The orange-haired boy let out a laugh that one might hear in a horror movie.
Fred, George, Fred, George, Fred, George! He thought, wondering which was his own name.
Mirror, mirror on the wall,
Who am I, I don't recall.
Suddenly, George shot up in bed, his face paper-white. It was a reoccurring dream, where George had gone mad after Fred's death. He couldn't remember which twin he was and always always that mocking voice, singing out the rhyme with a sneer.
George shuddered and made his way to the bathroom. "I'm fine." He mumbled to himself, splashing water in his face, trying to convince himself of something that wasn't true.
"I'm ok. I'm going back to the shop. I'm going to keep going, I'll do what Fred wanted me to. I'll be ok." He mumbled, looking up in the mirror.
He saw a boy who had lost all will to keep going on. The laughter that used to be in his eyes was dead and his face was pale. He looked like he was ready to drop dead at any time.
"I'm not going to die. I'm not ready to. I'm gonna be fine." He said, trying to keep his voice from breaking.
Mirror, mirror, on the wall
I'm not ready yet, to fall.
1 year later
George slowly opened the room to the flat above the shop. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Their pride and joy, and he'd abandoned it. After his brother had died, he couldn't seem to face it anymore.
"One year." He said quietly. That was how long it had taken him to get the nerve up to return.
Dust stirred up as George stepped forward and he sneezed. Wrinkling his nose he waved his wand and the dust was cleaned easily with magic.
The shop below had been ransacked and looted by Death Eaters, but the flat was mercifully untouched. He wandered from the kitchen into the bedroom, which had two twin beds. Sitting down on his he fought back tears.
George felt like he was a kid again, sad because their mother had decided it was 'unhealthy' to spend all their time together and sent Fred to spend the night with an Aunt.
George smiled, remembering that night. He'd gotten so lonely that he'd ended up crawling in bed with Bill. The next day Fred had arrived back home looking tired and forlorn. They had hugged each other in total tears and refused to let go for 5 minutes straight.
Their mom hadn't tried to seperate them again.
George shook his head, returning to the present abruptly. Looking around, he saw a picture on the bedside table. He leaned over and picked it up.
It was of him and Fred back in their first year at Hogwarts, both 11. They grinned identically up at the camera, waving their hands.
He stared at the picture for a long time, but he didn't feel sad anymore. No, staring at Fred's happy, smiling face... he couldn't be sad, not now. His pale face almost cracked a smile, but the command from his brain didn't seem to reach his face.
"Keep on trying, it'll work eventually." He said to himself. Those were the very words him and his twin had said when they couldn't get something right. When they were expiramenting with their jokes. When they were learning to ride a broom. Espeicially when they were finding the money to finance their shop.
"It'll work eventually." He repeated, staring at the picture.
5 years later
"How much for these?" An excited looking boy asked, holding up a bag of puking pastilles. He looked to be Japanese.
"10 shillings!" George laughed, a twinkle in his eyes. The boy grinned.
"Thanks! Hey, Yan! He says 10 shillings!" He turned and an identical boy looked up before running over.
"Great. Hey, are you George Weasley?" Yan asked.
"Yeah." George said, looking at the twins in front of each other.
"Your great! We want to be just like you!" The first one said, his brown eyes wide.
"Not just like me, no..." George said, the boys seemed confused. "My twin brother, Fred. He died. If you were just like me... well, it would be like ripping a soul in two, eh?"
"Oh... well, I guess not exactly like you." Yan reasoned.
"But still a lot like you!" The first one laughed.
"Boys!" A voice called, they turned and ran off.
"More admirers?" A voice asked, George turned with a grin to see his fiance, Nikki, standing there. [A/N alright, I know that he was supposed to get married to Angelina and have two kids named Fred and Roxanne, but I never liked Angelina much. And not because she was Fred's date, either. I don't know why, really... but I don't, so he's gonna marry Nikki instead. please don't be angry about this.]
"They want to be 'a lot like me' " George smiled at her, walking over.
"Oh, who doesn't? Your a wonderful man." She said, straightening his robes.
"Oh am I?" He asked, laughing. He kissed her on the cheek.
"Yes, yes you are." She said simply, before smiling and wrapping her arms around his neck.
"Ten days." He told her quietly.
"Yup! Ten days." She had the usual dreamy look on her face when she thought of the wedding. George laughed happily.
"I best be getting back to work, maybe you could help Verity out behind the counter?"
"Of course." She nodded, her brown hair catching the light. Nikki turned and walked towards the counter, George lost sight of her in the crowd.
George smiled in an absent-minded way. Ginny had been partially right. After awhile, it had started to heal. It took a long time to start, and even longer to finish. And it never truly closed. It would always be there, or rather, not be there.
His other half was still missing, but he had learned to live with it. He was alright, now.
He was perfectly fine.
Mirror mirror, on the wall,
Turns out I'm fine, after all.
Me: this took forever to write, thank my big sister Marcella for most of the rhymes! Not all of them, some I actually did.
Fred & George: not many!
Me: shush, you bookends!
Marcella: Seems like Fred is just doomed to... or wait, is he George? I never remember... they look so similar. I don't understand sometimes... What was I going to say?
Fred: reveiw or-
George: be put to death!
Marcella: Oh yes, that was it...