A/n: sorry about the cryptic summery… but it's necessary. This little ficlet has a surprise ending… and seeing as it's so short, I would give away the ending if I said more! Oh, and for the purpose of this fic, Fred and George live above their shop. I do not know if this is cannon or not, but I am too lazy to check…

Disclaimer: As much as I may wish, I do not own Harry Potter!

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"OI!" a voice sounded through the small shop. A head popped through the doorway that led to the storage room. The man's long-ish red hair was hanging in his eyes. "GEORGE! WE'RE ALMOST OUT OF PUCKING PASTYS!"

"No nee to yell, I'm right here!" George whacked his brother over the head with a rolled up newspaper that he had been carrying. "I swear Fred; sometimes you're too loud for your own good."

"Sorry!" Fred attempted to move his bangs out of his eyes, but they just swung back into place.

"Reckon its time to open?" George asked his twin, who nodded his head. He was always so excited first thing in the morning.

The shop was busy. It was after the war, and many people were happier, and therefore more willing to pull pranks. There were a number of Hogwarts students in there, stocking up on joke supplies to last them until the next holiday. The smell of autumn was in the air, and George remembered that it was almost time for the school year to begin.

"I miss Hogwarts." Fred said as he looked wistfully at a group of third years who had just purchased quite a few of their newly updated skiving snack boxes.

"So do I." George whispered. He looked over at Fred and sighed. "Well, we can always visit there! I'm sure Ginny and Ron and everyone wouldn't mind our company!"

Fred simply smiled and went back to arranging Pygmy Puffs. George watched his brother work, and realized that something was wrong. Something seemed out of place.

Fred.

There was something weird about Fred. But George couldn't put his finger on just what.

So he ignored it.

"OI!" Fred called from the storage room for the second time that day. "I FOUND SOME MORE PUKING PASTIES!"

"What did I say about yelling from the storage room Fred?" George asked. His head was starting to hurt, and the echoes of Fred's voice were not helping.

"Oops!" the tall red-head walked towards his twin brother. George stared at Fred as he did so. The feeling was coming back. Something was wrong! There was a difference in Fred. As if he didn't belong.

He didn't belong? Why did he seem like that? Why did he seem so out of place, when he was doing nothing out of the ordinary?

"George, are you alright?" Fred asked.

"Hmmmm? … Oh, ya. Sorry!"

Fred gave George a curious look, but walked away to help a couple with their purchase of canary creams. As he walked, George noticed him flicker. He seemed to dim, his colours became dull, and he almost disappeared for a moment.

Wait? Flicker? People don't flicker? George stared intently at Fred, but it didn't happen again.

Great, now I'm going crazy. He thought. Maybe I'm coming down with something.

"Fred! I'm not feeling well; I'm Going upstairs to lay down for a bit." He cried over the din of voices in the shop.

Fred acknowledged his statement with a nod, before allowing himself to be harassed by an annoyed customer who only spoke Portuguese.

Upstairs, George sunk into his bed without taking off his clothes.

Why did Fred seem so… weird today? Maybe it wasn't him. Maybe it was George. He was probably just getting sick, and that's why things seemed off to him.

He allowed his eyes to close as he was lulled to sleep by the too-loud voice of his brother trying to speak Portuguese (and failing epically).

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`George awoke with a start. He blinked his eyes a few times to refocus them and listened to the silence of the shop downstairs. The sunrise was shining through the window. He must've slept through to the next day.

Fred's bed was empty, which was odd. He was usually still asleep at that time. George stumbled, still half-asleep to the bathroom. He blinked at himself in the mirror and gasped.

There was a scar. On his cheek. Where did that come from?

Then he remembered the battle. The battle that had just taken place a few days ago. He had forgotten about it.

Rubbing his eyes, George continued on his way, searching for his brother along the way.

He wasn't in the kitchen. He wasn't in their small little excuse for a sitting room. Maybe he had gone down to the shop early?

But he wasn't there either. Nor was he in the storage room. And neither were the Puking Pasties.

But Fred had just said he found a box. George could see him standing there, calling to his twin about the found goods. Then he flickered. George had forgotten about the flicker.

And then he was gone. Because he didn't belong. Because something was wrong. Because he Fred wasn't supposed to be there.

And he remembered. The tower collapsing. Percy holding onto his brother's lifeless body. The laughter that was in his eyes until his last moment.

He remembered that his brother was dead.

And it occurred to him….

It had been a dream.

He had gotten his brother back for a little while, only to have him ripped away again.

How cruel the mind could be.

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Ok, so I haven't really been inspired…and this isn't my best, but meh! I decided to post it anyways. This is also unbeta'd

I actually cried a bit while writing this! I cannot think of Fred's death without it bringing tears to my eyes…

It is 2:15 am; do YOU know where your children are?