It had been seventy-three years, one month, ten days, twelve hours, eight minutes and fifty-three seconds since George had last seen Fred.
It had been much too long.
George was an old man, much too old. His face was lined with wrinkles and his red hair had long since faded to a fuzzy grey. He had lived a long time, but there had not been much life in his years since the final battle at Hogwarts. His life before the battle was all clear in his mind, but the intervening years between then and now were blurry and non-descript. He hadn't had a bad life, he had good times and memories to look back upon with his family, but he had missed his other half, his mirror image, his twin.
He spent most of his time alone now. Angelina had long passed on, as had all of his siblings. It seemed a cruel trick of fate that he, the one who wanted to reach the afterlife the most, was the one who had lived the longest. His children dropped by on occasions such as Christmas and his birthday, but other visits were few and far between. He couldn't blame them. Roxanne had moved to America, following her muggle husband. And Fred II had followed in Charlie's footsteps, and had fallen in love with dragons. So, at any point in time, he could have been anywhere in the world.
George stretched out his trembling fingers and pulled a faded photo album off of his nightstand. The pages were flimsy with age and wear. Barely a day went by that George didn't look at this photo album. The front was plain, with gold stickers spelling out Fred&George, put there decades ago by Molly. George slowly flipped through the pages. The pictures detailed their birth and every moment up until the final battle. George reached couldn't help but smile softly at the middle section, where the pictures had been pasted roughly and in a collage pattern, instead of the usual spread-out-so-you-could-see-every-detail way that Molly usually used. These were the still legendary pranks of the Weasley twins, though this was the early years. There was a picture of Ron's teddy-bear turned spider, and it even prompted a chuckle. Though, the chuckle quickly turned into a cough.
Curse old age.
George's fingers shook as he reached for the last page of the book. He had only been able to bring himself to look at this picture once every year. He had only looked at this picture on their birthday. But it was not April 1st, otherwise he would have been out with Roxanne and Fred II. Still, something was telling George to turn to the last picture ever taken of his and his twin. So, he obeyed instinct, and flipped the page.
To this day, George could not tell you which person in the photo was him, and which was Fred. It had been taken the night of the rescue of Harry the night George had lost his ear. They were wearing the same jeans, the same non-descript sweater. The two boys in the picture were constantly switching sides, daring the person looking down on them to point and go 'That's George' and be wrong. Every so often, they would get bored, and start to sword fight with their wands, sending a shower of sparks over the photo.
Absent mindedly, George wondered what Fred would look like now if they had both lived. Would they have held on to their identical-ness? Would they have developed wrinkles in the same places? Would they flare with the same old age diseases at the same time? George reached up to the left side of his head, where an ear was missing. They never would have been mistaken for each other, even if they had aged exactly the same.
Exhausted, George leaned back against his pillows, his old face seeming to collapse in on itself.
"Fred, I miss you."
When George woke, he knew something was different. This wasn't the room he had been living his life in for the past few years. This was an open space, and he could see a small village in the distance. George stood, bracing himself for the joint pain he had become accustomed too, but he bounded to his feet with a youth's energy.
George looked down at himself. The lines were gone from his hands. He touched his face, the wrinkles had disappeared. He shook his head, and a shock of red hair fell in front of his face. He slapped a hand to the left side of his face, and his ear had returned to him. He was clothed in the sneakers and jeans he had loved as a teenager. He even had on one of Molly's Christmas jumpers, clearly labeled with a 'G'. His wand was even sticking out of the place he had always kept it as a teen – his back left pocket. Until he had become a grown-up and kept it in his front shirt pocket.
It only took him a moment to realize he was dead. He felt a pang of sadness for Roxanne and Fred II and the news that they would soon be receiving, if they hadn't already. The pang quickly disappeared. Instead, he scanned the land around him, looking for the figure he knew would be there. After all this time, Fred would not leave him alone.
Sure enough, there were footsteps behind him. Before he could turn around, an old familiar voice washed over his ears. Like a song he had once known by heart and had just remember the lyrics too. "Nice to see you again Gred."
George spun around, smiling at the joke he had forgotten about. "Forge!" He cried. Fred was dressed the same, in jeans, sneakers and Molly's Christmas 'F' jumper. George knew that Fred's wand was in his back pocket. He remembered every freckle on his face, the way he smiled, and the mischievous light in his daring twin's eyes. His other half, his mirror image, his twin.
He grabbed Fred around the waist, pulling him into a tight hug. Fred hugged him back as tightly, making George feel as though he couldn't breathe. George didn't care. Fred was in front of him again, with the same youthful smile, the same sly grin.
"I missed you," George managed to say as the brothers released each other.
"I missed you too, more than you can imagine." Fred motioned for George to walk with him. Together they made their way toward the housing in distance. "So," Fred's eyes glinted with tricks and pranks and plans and ideas that George couldn't wait to here, "best way to figure things out is to learn on your feet. Got your wand?"
George pulled it out of his back pocket, brandishing it to the sky.
"Beware world," Fred looped his arm around George's neck, "the Weasley twins are back in business!"
I was hit by a sudden wave of Potter nostalgia and the tragedy of George without Fred. Thus, this. I don't own Harry Potter.
~TLL~