Harry was decidedly shorter than Fred had ever noticed before. He briefly entertained the thought as he pushed up the glasses that kept slipping down his nose. The knuckles of his currently unfreckled left hand were going white gripping the broom handle as he hovered a foot above the ground. He glanced over his shoulder down the line of Harrys that ran down the street. The Harry that was really George right behind him let out a slow breath and the twins in disguise exchanged a tense smile.

If all went to plan tonight, as it simply had to, then the seven Potters and their seven older escorts would all reconvene at the Burrow in time to return to their usual selves.

"Hold tight there, boys." Arthur muttered from beside Fred and nodded to his sons who replied in unison,
"Nothin' to worry about."

They all sat in silence but for the uneasy snorting of Thestrals for another full minute before Mad-Eye gave the word and as one, all took flight.

Flattening himself on his broom, Fred veered right, sticking close to his father's side and, for the briefest of moments, revelled in the wind roaring through his hair. He didn't fly enough anymore, and he should, Apparition was just far more convenient. But flight just felt so much more free, and when you had the talent, there was no sense in squandering it. Much to their mother's dismay in times past, that was an attitude he and George had never adopted where studying and schooling was concerned.

In a matter of seconds, chaos had erupted and adrenaline was replaced with sheer panic. As though they had been waiting in the very clouds, a flood of Death Eaters converged on the evacuation party from all directions. Fred heard one of the women scream, the roar of Hagrid's motorcycle and the maniacal cackle of a Death Eater before he and his father were diving.

Curses rained all around him and Fred groped wildly for his own wand, holding on tightly with his legs as he turned on the broom to send a curse at the spiral of dark magic hurtling toward him. They pulled up short as three more cut them off and forced them to shoot back up, going for Arthur. Restraining himself from crying "Dad!" in an effort to keep up the guise of being the real Harry, Fred sent a stinging jinx and was knocked back by a powerful shield charm, nearly losing his seat.

He needed have worried, his father could always more than hold his own as with a roar and a burst of orange light, two of the Death Eaters were sent screaming toward the ground.

In a mad rush of swerving and trying to avoid all manner of curses from both sides, Fred put his Beater skills to use as he turned suddenly and swung his wand like a club, repelling a jet of red light and sending it back to its caster who had lost his mask and revealed a mop of long white blond hair.

"Here! Now!"

Fred heeded his father's call and dived left, crying out in alarm as he felt a curse tear through the fabric of his jacket as it flapped in the wind. A Thestral swooped overhead and he heard Bill let out a war cry that was more of a howl as he passed. Was everyone else okay? There was a jet of green light and something large and white dropped like a stone past his head but he didn't have time to see what it was. There was so much screaming and cursing from human and beast alike that he was finding it hard to distinguish between the Death Eaters and their own.

Fred's head shot up as another Harry went rocketing by on a broom beside him and grabbed a hold of Tonks who was dangling by one hand and still firing curses with her other, her hair changing from blonde to red and back to bubblegum pink in the brief few seconds Fred allowed himself to see if she was alright.

Suddenly Fred shouted and his broom dropped with new weight. Augustus Rookwood had grabbed a hold of his foot and was readying his wand to strike.
But Fred was faster and shot a spell under his arm. "Reducto!"

"Cruc-argh!" Rookwood's curse was interrupted as he went spiralling back, his wand flying from his hand and disappearing into cloud.

They were starting to leave the others behind now, even the Death Eaters seemed to have lessened…which could have been good, or it could have meant they had found the real Harry. And that was when a blood curdling scream followed by a loud "No!" in the distance, set Fred's teeth on edge and made him prickle unpleasantly all over.

He shot a frantic look over his shoulder with eyes that were slowly beginning to return to their original electric blue but could see nothing. The twin felt suddenly ill and had to reach out and grasp onto his father's sleeve until the spontaneous dizzy spell had subsided.

"Are you alright?!"

Arthur, fearing his son had been hit, turned on his broom in panic and tried to keep Fred on track. They should have been one of the first back, well and truly back by now but they were still being pursued and couldn't risk leading any Death Eaters any closer to the Burrow. After several long moments, Fred recovered and tried to push off any terrible thoughts that they had just lost someone.
Still feeling ill he returned both hands to his broom and rolled in mid-air to avoid a Killing Curse. "I'm okay!" He cried back over the roar of the wind. "Who was that?!"

Another ten minutes passed until, having gone a far less direct route than they were supposed to, the two Weasleys shot through the protective enchantments and landed heavily in the grass just as Fred shot back up his original height. Both stumbling and trying to find their feet, father and son embraced each other and Arthur clapped his son on the back.

His fiery hair returned and Fred tossed the glasses aside as they wandered out into the clearing, both breathing sighs of relief to see most of their party outside waiting. Remus clutched onto his wife's hand and peered around Kingsley's shoulder at them.

"Are we the last back?" Arthur sighed as Kingsley stiffened and began to raise his wand. Fred paused at his father's side and glanced around quickly, counting heads and returning his gaze with wide eyes to the werewolf who swallowed and looked back at the twin.

"Fred-"

"Where's George?" Arthur asked before Fred could even find the words to ask it himself.

No. No, no. That scream, George hadn't- Fred began to shake and his face paled even more. If Remus was back George just had to be here too. He followed Lupin's eyes back to the open door of the house and shoved past Kingsley who started to step forward to block the way inside.

"I'll prove who I am, Kingsley, after I've seen my son! Now back off if you know what's good for you!"

Fred only vaguely registered his father's words as he ran inside, tripping over his own feet as he stumbled into the living room, overcome with the same dizziness he felt on the broom.

He nearly lost his stomach at the sight that greeted him and any blood he had left in his face rushed from it as he stared across the room at his twin lying bloody and unmoving on the couch.
His father staggered in the room behind him and slowly the others began to file into the house.

Molly looked up, her face wet with tears and gasped as she saw them. "Arthur, Fred…"

With a whimper of fear, Fred stepped forward slowly at first and then nearly fell over his feet again as he ran quickly to his twin's side.
"He's alive…"

He could have sobbed with relief when his mother said that and felt his eyes fill with frightened tears as he lifted a shaking hand to push George's hair back.
The side of his brother's head was scarlet with the blood that had run down his side and coated his clothes. The bleeding seemed to have been stopped but the wound was gruesome and the damage was irreparable. George's left ear was missing.

George suddenly stirred and his eyes cracked open slightly. He peered around blearily through heavily lidded eyes and reached up to grope at his head.

"Oh Merlin…" Arthur murmured, wrapping his arm around his wife's shoulders consolingly. "How is he?"

"How're you feelin', Georgie?" Fred asked softly, dropping his own hand back to the couch and trying to focus on his twin's face rather than the gaping hole where an ear should be.

"Saint like." George murmured as his eyes drooped closed again for a few seconds, his hand still groping in vain and coming away from his head covered in blood.

Fred swallowed a lump and tried to keep composed. He was very conscious of everyone trickling into the living room around them and glanced up briefly at his parents before turning back to George.

"Come again?"

George's eyes opened and his lips twitched upward toward his usual happy-go-lucky grin as he looked back at his twin, determined to show beyond a doubt that he was okay.
"Saint like-" He repeated and pointed lamely at his head. "I'm holey, Fred. Get it? I'm holey."

Molly burst into a fresh wave of tears and clutched at George's other hand while Fred let out a slightly watery attempt at a laugh.

"The whole wide world of ear related humour…and you go for "I'm holey"? That's pathetic."

"Reckon I'm still better lookin' than you."

xxxXxxx

"I won't hear another word of it, George Weasley." The reprimand was firm but had lost much of its usual harshness in favour of a gentle tone as Molly smoothed her son's hair back for the twentieth time and gently dabbed at the dried blood down his neck.
"I don't even want you standing. We'll let Remus and Tonks use your room tonight if they'll stay and Fred can share with Bill."

George whined but had lost the energy to argue the point any further. He was dazed and there wasn't a person in the room who wasn't sombre. Even the twins, who were never lost for words and always cheerful, were quiet and withdrawn. The death of one of their own had been a wake-up call to the younger members of the Order and to all the family, how real the chance was that they stood to lose a lot more than reputation in these dark times. It was time to stand firm and fight true and prepare for a real war.

Fred sat at his brother's feet at the end of the couch, his chin resting in his palm and his gaze fixed on the floor. Around the living room sat most everyone. Fleur, Ginny and Hermione sat silently opposite the twins with Tonks and Ron at their feet on the floor. Bill had gone with Lupin to recover Mad-Eye's body and Harry leaned tensely by the fireplace

"Then will you at least give me another Firewhisky?" The wounded twin tried, pushing himself up to lean in the crook of the couch between the back and the arm. "Dull the pain a bit more and all that?"

"George Fabian Weasley, I have dulled it as much as I can. If you think losing an ear will make me give you boys more to drink in this house…" Molly chided gently, not fooled by her son's appeal although she was deeply tempted to let him have it.

"It was worth a shot." George relented and slid down again.

Across the room, the girls smiled sadly at the joke and Fleur cast a longing look toward the front door, willing her fiancé to come back soon.

The room lapsed again into silence as Molly tore herself away from her sons and disappeared sniffling into the kitchen to prepare hot chocolates and tea for everyone. At once, Hermione and Ginny sprung to their feet and followed her to help.

"Who did this to you, mate?" Fred suddenly spoke up softly, looking over with slightly red eyes at George who reached out a hand to him and enlisted his help to sit up.

"Don't know." George stifled a yawn and tried to blink away the spots that danced before his eyes. Everything on his left side sounded fuzzy and muffled and he could barely move his head without feeling nauseas and dizzy. "I just remember the pain, and then I was falling. I must have blacked out pretty quick I can't remember Remus catching me."

Fred remembered the sudden wave of nausea he had felt on the broom and the way his head had spun violently in the same moment George must have fallen from his broom. He remembered the scream that he had realised had to be George the moment he and his father had landed.

His hand twitched on his knees and his jaw tensed as he thought of it.

"Snape." Harry said suddenly from his position by the fire and all eyes in the room went to him. "Lupin said it was Snape's work."

"Snape?!" Fred, George and Ron all echoed and three pairs of blue eyes glared at the fire.

"That foul git, I'll give him back as good as he gave me." George muttered foully and gently touched the clean bandage wrapped around his head.

"Not if I do it first." Fred muttered and matched his twin's glower exactly. But it vanished as George struggled to push himself upright. "What are you doin'?"

"I needa stretch out." George mumbled, slowly rising onto unsteady legs. The vertigo hit with full force a moment later and he swayed sideways dangerously with a low moan. An instant later Fred was on his feet and supporting his twin, wrapping his arm around him and George dropped his forehead limply onto Fred's shoulder with a groan.

"And you thought you could make it upstairs..." Fred scolded as he eased George back down onto the couch just as Molly, Hermione and Ginny appeared, carrying trays of hot chocolate and cups of tea.

xxxXxxx

The Burrow was quiet, dark and sadness hung over it that night, a weight that was so out of place on what should have always remained a happy, family home. Fred was sure he was not the only one lying awake that night as he stared up at nothing. Across the room he could hear Bill still shifting restlessly in his bed and knew he was awake too.
After a few more minutes he tossed the blankets off and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress and sat there for another moment before getting up.

He turned to see Bill looking at him and jerked his head to the door. The oldest Weasley brother nodded and rolled back over. He didn't need to ask.

Fred leaned over the railing and looked down as he let out a sigh, the door swinging closed behind him. He could hear someone whispering, but couldn't make out what they were saying and so took little effort to eavesdrop.

Starting down the stairs, he padded barefoot toward the living room where George had been tucked into the couch with a generous amount of blankets. He was awake and his blue eyes stared half lidded at the embers in the fireplace.

Sensing his twin was there, George turned his head just a little and arched a ginger eyebrow.

"What are you doin'?"

"I wasn't gonna leave ya down here alone all night, George. Besides..." Fred shrugged and lowered himself onto the little table. "…couldn't sleep."

"How brotherly of you." George muttered and stifled a yawn. He was bitterly tired and his head was throbbing so much, but try as he might he couldn't get the conjured image of Mad-Eye spiralling into nothingness out of his mind. He shuddered involuntarily at the thought.

George looked up again from the coals and frowned. Fred didn't look like himself, his eyes were wide and his mouth drooped sullenly.

"Fred?" He prompted, propping himself up on his elbow. "What's wrong?"

Standing up again, Fred reached for George's wand where it rested on the arm of the couch and, with a flourish and a flick, transfigured the table into a mattress and sunk down onto it.

"I'm sleeping here." He stated simply, leaving no room for arguments, though George wouldn't have argued it anyway.

"What's wrong?" George repeated, lowering his voice, mindful that not everyone was asleep.

Fred didn't respond immediately and made a show of getting comfortable, he was confident that George knew exactly what was up anyway. How could he not? After a minute he sighed and tucked one hand beneath his head.

"How many do you think we'll lose?"

"More than Mad-Eye that's for sure." George replied immediately. He knew what was bothering Fred because it was bothering him too.

They weren't boys anymore, they were grown men and part of a war that had to end one way or another. The twins were jokers, yes, they were cheerful and positive, yes, but they weren't naïve or stupid and they knew when it was time to be serious. War was no laughing matter. Death was no joke. And the risk of that was not a matter to take lightly.

But as soon as the call of duty sounded, they were more than willing to leap into it with both feet and come at it aggressively with everything they had. Brave and true, like their whole family, they were true Gryffindors.

"But it's worth the fight if we win, surely." He added quietly, not certain that he was convinced of that himself.

Fred nodded grimly and his vision was suddenly obscured by a blanket George had dropped on him. Tugging it off his head he looked over at his brother and at the bandage adorning his head. It had been changed just before everyone retired and was already reddening again.

"Is it still hurting, Lugless?"

George snorted and chuckled a little as he danced his fingers over the place his ear had once been.

"It's like someone keeps kicking it. Hurts like hell."

A surge of fury washed over Fred again and he wanted nothing more than to hunt down Snape and make him pay…one body part at a time. It killed him to see his twin in so much pain.

"Hey, at least I have a good excuse to pretend I don't hear Mum when she yells at us." George tried, dropping his hand off the edge of the couch and nudging Fred's shoulder who smiled obligingly.

"I could feel it, ya know? I guess when you fell. I felt like I was falling too. Everything spun and I had to hold onto Dad to stay upright. I should have known it was you that screamed straight away."

That scream would haunt him. Fred sniffed suddenly and wiped at his nose quickly.

Fred was a showman, and so was George but the younger of the twins didn't put on as much bravado as Fred did. They strutted about often as though nothing could hurt them, not caring at all what anyone thought of them. You had to look very hard sometimes to see that there was, in fact, some insecurity there.

The twins had rarely been apart. When no one else was around, they still had at least one person they could always rely on to have their back and to be there no matter what. Unlike almost everyone else, they didn't really know what it was like not to have anyone around and to feel completely alone, even if it weren't true.

And the idea of it terrified Fred. It was what he feared the most.

"Are you okay, Freddie?"

Fred snapped out of it and glanced over at his twin who was frowning at him through the dark. George already knew the answer.

"Doesn't matter, what matters is that you're not."

"Codswallop, it totally matters." George countered, propping up on his elbow. "Is it because nothin's ever gonna be like it was? Whatever happens, it's all changed forever. I'm scared of that too."

"I'm not scared." Fred retorted defensively and then saw the 'I know better than that' look George was shooting him and mumbled, "Not entirely…I just have a really bad feeling-"

"-after tonight, yeah, I know. I don't wanna lose anyone else either."

Fred sighed and rolled onto his left side, facing George's couch and closed his eyes.
"Let's just stick to bein' a team th-"

"-things don't go wrong-"

"-when we don't split up." Fred finished, curling up a little on his side like he were afraid of monsters under the bed again. On the couch, George mirrored his actions, drawing his knees up closer to him.

xxxXxxx

"Arthur…" Molly quietly waved her husband over to where she stood looking into the living room. Her brown eyes were shining with tears and her left hand was pressed tenderly over her heart. "Look…"

Arthur tiredly ran a hand over his thinning hair as he came down the stairs and wandered over to his wife. Tenderly pressing a kiss to the side of her head, he followed her gaze and smiled softly.

"Bless 'em…" He said quietly, shaking his head slightly and rubbing Molly's arm lightly.

Thinking only to find George curled up on the couch, neither Molly nor Arthur had expected to find what they did. Both twins were fast asleep in the living room. Fred had conjured himself a mattress right beside George and both boys slept, identically curled into themselves and facing each other. With the exception of George's ear, which meant it was far easier to tell them apart, Fred and George were the mirror image of each other lying there. Twins really were incredible, Arthur mused, not for the first time.

When the twins were much younger, and not too old to let their parents comfort them when they were scared, Arthur or Molly would regularly find them in the same bed after a nightmare. When they were upset, or frightened, or ill, they would each stick close to their brother. Even at a young age, whenever they were vulnerable, Fred and George seemed much stronger together than apart.

Molly sniffed as her mind travelled back to an easier time which now seemed far longer than twelve years ago. There were Fred and George, nineteen years old and doing just the same thing they did when they were children, as best they could. They would hate to hear it, and would adamantly deny it, but like all her children, to Molly the twins would always be her babies.