"Dear Mr. George Weasley,

You have been named in the will of Mr. Fred Weasley. The office of Churching, Hawkins, and Twittering request your presence in two days time, at 9:00AM, on the date of May 2, 2001 for the reading of the will. If you are able, please send a response by return owl at your earliest convenience.

Thank you for your time,

Aquila Malfoy"

George squinted at the name with some surprise. The name sounded slightly familiar. Most of his knowledge of the Malfoy family came from his father. However, Lucius Malfoy hadn't worked at the Ministry since the downfall of Voldemort, no surprise there.

The only thing he knew about Aquila Malfoy was that she had been educated at Beauxbatons. His father had mentioned it on one occasion while complaining about Lucius Malfoy and his "pompous, arrogant arse".

Refolding the letter at his desk, and quickly scribbled out a response on a spare piece of parchment. Tying it to the ankle of the tawny owl that sat waiting near the window, he sighed, and ran a hand through his hair as he watched the it take off into the sky.

"Why now?" he wondered. "Why now, after all these years?"

In a few days, it will have been 3 years since the Battle of Hogwarts and the death of his twin brother. 3 years that George had spent wandering around in a daze. 3 years of feeling as though he was missing a limb. 3 years of being truly, bitterly alone.

When someone dies, you're never really prepared. You keep suddenly remembering, as if the murder of a loved one is something you could possibly forget. In the beginning, George would turn and begin to open his mouth, a joke ready on his lips. And then at once, realize that no one was there. He would set out two mugs of tea in the evening, sinking slowly down to the floor while he stared at Fred's favorite chair and both cups grew cold. He would see his mother close her eyes and cry, every time she looked at him. It was better now, for his family. They had begun putting their lives back together and moving forward. George couldn't, however. He was still stuck in the same place he was 3 years ago.

Lurching back to the present, George rubbed the side of his head, in the spot where his ear used to be. What had once been a gesture of shock at his missing ear had since become a comforting movement. He sighed again and poured himself some Firewhiskey. Perhaps the liquid fire would unlock something from his memory. Massaging his temples, he thought more. Fred had never mentioned a will. Frankly, he didn't seem like the type to have one. Even when everyone feared for their lives during second war, Fred had never believed it would be them.

"Kill two handsome blokes like us? Never, Georgie." He'd say, with a wink and flourish.

George closed his eyes and downed the rest of his glass. Looking out the window, he was surprised how dark the sky was. His trip down memory lane had taken far longer than he had realized. George stood up from his desk and set the glass in the sink. The next day was going to be long ones, he thought, finishing his nightly routines and settling into bed. He tapped the bedroom lamp one time with his wand, switching it off.

"Goodnight, Freddie," he said softly, just like every other night since he could speak. And just like every other night since the Battle, he was met with nothing but silence.

—-

The clock began to chime 7 o'clock, waking George with a start. He had fallen into a listless sleep, tossing and turning throughout the night. His recurring dream had plagued him again last night, as it had done nearly every night since Fred has been killed. It was always the same dream.

George would find himself in the family garden, with Fred standing a few meters away, his back to George. The closer George walked to him, the more Fred walked away from him. No matter what he did or how fast he ran, George could never reach him, even when he stretched out his arm as far as he could, attempting to simply touch his brother's shoulder. He was always just barely out of reach. Sometimes he felt so close that George thought he could feel the fabric of Fred's sweater on his finger tips before he moved farther away.

George groaned and rolled out of bed. He had one hour to dress and have breakfast before the shop needed to be opened. Business had been good since the war ended. Great, in fact. With Voldemort and the threat of death no longer hanging over their heads, the wizarding population of England had come out in droves to the joke shop, eager to put the pain of the past behind them.

Flicking his wand, his robes flew out of the wardrobe and onto his bed. Shrugging them on, George busied himself with making breakfast until it was time to go downstairs and unlock the shop. Verity had already arrived when he made his way down, whistling happily as she restocked the Fainting Fancies.

"Morning, Mr. Weasley!" she exclaimed cheerfully.

"Good morning, Verity." responded George with a small smile, as he took his place behind the register. "Are we ready to open up?"

"Nearly, I've just got to make sure that the muggle tricks are fully stocked." Verity replied, straightening a row of brightly colored Skiving Snackboxes.

Upon her confirmation that the muggle magic tricks were adequately stocked, George unlocked the front door and welcomed in the first customers of the day.

The day passed quickly, thankfully leaving George with little time to mull over the letter. At 5 o'clock in the evening, Verity said a cheery goodbye and exited the store. George helped a few more straggling customers and walked them to the door, preparing to lock up. At that moment, however, his mother walked entered the store. George quickly shut the door behind her, flicking off the magically bright "Open for Business!" sign.

"Hi Mum", murmured George, hugging her deeply, as soon as he saw her.

She squeezed his shoulders and tutted to herself. "Oh George, dear, you're too skinny! You really need to eat more."

"Mum, I'm fine." said George, attempting to reassure his mother. "I eat plenty, I promise."

Molly Weasley shook her head and stepped back from his hug, analyzing his features. "You look like you haven't slept in ages, dear." she said, pinching his cheek gently.

"It's a busy life, running a business. After all, it is just me and Verity." he said, giving her a small smile.

His mother tutted again. "I've told you before, you need to hire some other staff members. You're working yourself to death, George."

"And I told you, I'm fine." he snapped harshly.

George immediately saw the hurt in his mother's eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mum," he sighed, taking a deep breath and turning his eyes to the ceiling. "You're right. I haven't been sleeping."

His mother patted his hand with her own. "You never could fool me, dear. I know you haven't been sleeping. I know you haven't been eating. And I know that you're wondering why Fred had a will that he didn't tell you about."

George jerked his head down and stared at his mother.

"How did you know?"

"We all received letters," Molly replied, with a sad smile.

"Even Percy?"

Molly laughed lightly. "Even Percy."

"I just...I just don't understand why he didn't tell me. Why he didn't tell any of us."

Frustrated, George ran his hands through his hair.

"I think that he didn't want to worry you. And Merlin knows that we all had enough to worry about during that time," Molly said softly, "Sometimes I think that the only thing that kept me from completely breaking down was Fred's unfailing optimism. He kept all of us going."

"He was my brother. And my best friend. He should have trusted me!" George cried, slamming his fist into the nearest display. Molly gasped a little, as the items went flying. "He should have trusted me." George said again, this time softly.

Molly took her son's hand in her own. "I know you're upset. But we can't change what's in the past. We can only look towards the future.

George shook his head.

"He should have told me."

His mother said nothing, just continued to look at him with concern in her eyes.

"I need to clean this up," said George, now staring at the display he had knocked over moments before. "You should go home."

His mother looked taken aback at his abrupt manor. She attempted to hug him one more time, however George quickly shrugged her off.

She looked at him sadly. Slightly ashamed, George couldn't meet her gaze.

Molly turned to leave. "Remember, Georgie, no matter how old you get, no matter what happens...I'll always be your mother. And I'll always love you."

And with that, she retreated out the door, turned on the spot, and disappeared.

George locked the door behind her. He felt guilty about his treatment of his mother. Waving his wand, he muttered a quick spell to pick up the fallen potions. Thankfully none of them had broken.

George finished cleaning up, and made a note for Verity of the store items that would need to be restocked before opening tomorrow. He wasn't sure how long the will reading would take, especially considering that all 8 members of the Weasley family were being called to the office.

He walked upstairs, again rubbing the side of his head. "Merlin, I'm not prepared for this," George thought tiredly.

Once in his apartment, he quickly pulled on his pajamas and got into bed, staring at a small bottle on his nightstand.

It had been there for three years. A sleeping draft. He couldn't bring himself to take it, though. The only time he saw his brother was in his dreams. Without seeing Fred in his dreams, it was like he was truly, completely gone. And that wasn't something George was for.

He closed his eyes.

"Goodnight, Freddie."