*Listening to The Cinematic Orchestra and feeling in such sentimental of moods. This is where it took me.
Angelina hated being pregnant. She had complained countless times that she felt like a beached whale, that she couldn't bend over to pick things up or paint her toe nails, that she couldn't lie on her stomach to sleep, that the baby always pressed against her bladder causing endless trips to the loo. I pressed my palm slowly against the giant bump, right bellow her belly button, which had in fact turned into a button, pushed out as it was. I felt my son's hand press against mine from inside the womb. This sent a jolt to my heart that was absolutely indescribable. That was my child. He kicked and I laughed, tears of joy filling my eyes. He was so energetic that I wondered how Angelina stayed asleep. I touched her belly ever so carefully for fear of waking her; it had taken so long for her to fall asleep and I didn't want to wake her up. We were very near her due date and I just closed my eyes and imagined holding my son for the first time, what his cry would sound like, whether or not he'd have the same freckles that dusted my cheeks, but most of all, I imagined how much I would love him and show him the world. I imagined how much he would learn about his uncle Fred who couldn't be there to welcome him into it…
Four months after Angelina gave birth, I was lying in the grass, the top of my head lightly touching Fred's stone as I looked up into the calm late May sky. I hadn't been to see my brother in a while. Life had just been so busy with the new baby and work. I was speaking calmly, telling Fred all about his nephew, who I'd graciously named after him. I held my wand in my relaxed right hand. I must've talked myself to sleep because my eyes were closed.
"George," a familiar voice called. I kept my eyes closed but I felt this presence that I knew so well but couldn't really believe it was there. He laughed and then I opened my eyes and looked up at him…Everything was in this soft glow sort of lighting, like maybe it wasn't real. But it was real. It was still the exact same field with the exact same trees and gravestone. I looked up at my brother's smiling face as he stepped forward at my feet, his hands in his pockets casually.
"Fred?" My voice wavered and tears dripped from my eyes.
"…Am I dreaming? This can't be real…it isn't real," I said, blinking as if I would wake up. Fred walked over to where I was resting and took a seat at my side in the grass where I'd sat up.
"No, it's not a dream, Georgie. It's more like an in-between," he explained, gazing up at the sun and then closing his eyes, breathing in the fresh air.
"Where are we? Am I dead?" I ask. I want to reach out and touch him, but I'm afraid that if I do and make sense of the unreal situation, he'll blow away in the breeze. Fred turns to me.
"No, you're not dead, George. You're right where you were lying two minutes ago. You're perfectly fine."
"Then…what is this? How am I talking to you? Are you real?"
"Blimey, bro. I've never heard you ask so many questions," he said, his eyes widening a bit. Another tear rolled down my cheek.
"Don't cry, George. This is all real. I've been here this entire time." Fred touched my hand, where I realized I was still holding my wand carefully. There was a strange glow about the tip of it. I had no idea what I was doing; I hadn't intentionally cast a spell or anything.
"Am I doing this?" I whisper. Fred nods.
"I wondered when you'd figure out how to visit," he said, rolling his eyes with humour. I couldn't help myself and laughed.
"This is magic," I said once I'd stopped laughing.
"No. It's love," Fred said. "You've just learnt how to tap into it…go on—nothing will go wrong if you touch me," he said, speaking the thoughts I was thinking. I hugged him like I'd never hugged anyone before. He hugged me back and I knew for sure that I wasn't dreaming, nor was I dead, nor was it some sort of illusion. I wasn't sure how, but it was real and I was hugging my brother as tightly as he was hugging me.
"It's alright, George," he said as I sobbed into his shoulder. I wasn't necessarily crying because I was sad, I was crying because I was so happy to see him after all this time.
"I'll never leave you, Georgie. I'm always there," he said.
After a long moment of holding each other, we let go and I found Fred's eyes as wet as mine.
"I never died in vain, George. Neither did anyone else. It's almost like…a different world, where I am now. There's no pain or evil. There's no more loss. And everyone you've ever loved and seemingly lost is here. I've been with grandpa and Lupin, Tonks, Sirius—even Lily and James. Speaking of which, Lily wanted you to thank mum for watching over Harry all this time, and to tell her that she's watching over me in return. They're really kind, Lily and James. I can see where Harry gets his traits from."
I could barely believe everything Fred was saying, but at the same time I knew it was all true.
"I've had some great conversations with Dumbledore. He's here, too. Even your ear, Georgie," he said grinning. I laughed again.
"One day, the two of you will be reunited," he joked on.
"Fred, I just wish you were here to see it. We were supposed to grow old together, you and me."
He nodded solemnly for a moment.
"I've had a son, with Angelina. I named him after you," I explained, nudging him in the shoulder casually the way we used to do. Fred smiled.
"I know. You think I wouldn't be watching over my nephew?" he joked.
"He'll be a great wizard, George. I can feel it. I'm so happy for you and Angelina. Say hi to her for me, will you?"
I nodded. And then I heard Angelina's voice. She was calling my name.
"Oh—there she is, Georgie. You'd better get back," Fred explained. I looked around and heard Angelina call my name again, except I didn't see her. But I felt her. I looked anxiously at Fred.
"You can come here whenever you like, and I'll be here," he said, placing his hand on my shoulder reassuringly.
"I love you, Fred," I said. He smiled brightly.
"You too, George. I always will."
I let go of my wand and found myself lying down where I was the entire time. When I glanced to my right, Fred was no longer sitting there, yet it was strange, I still felt him there. Angelina looked down at me from where she was standing, holding our son who was wrapped up in her arms. She smiled and sat down next to me as I sat up.
"Are you okay?" she asks as I blink awake.
"Of course," I said. I wasn't sure if I should tell her that I was just talking to Fred—literally talking to him, that he was there with us at that moment. Somehow, I had a feeling she already knew as she closed her eyes and smiled. My son wriggled and laughed, his face fat and happy. I took him carefully and Angelina opened her eyes. She placed a hand on Fred's stone and I knew she felt his presence. He was always there.