The cold wind blew into his face as he walked, threatening to blow off the hood of his jacket. He'd always had a fascination with muggle hoodies. Pulling it over his head tighter, he kept walking. Why did the graveyard have to be so far away? But deep down, he knew he liked nights like this one. It was December and extremely cold. He liked it that way. There was a slight wind occasionally blowing, making the trees howl when it did. It made him think of Remus. With a pang, he kept walking. It was cloudy too. The moon was occasionally hiding, making his shadow disappear. It was threatening to rain. Strange weather.
He was slightly jittery. He'd never gone to visit him before, let alone at night. He just hadn't been able to. He was scared that it would just make it all real. He had gone to the funeral, of course. But that was it. One year. He hadn't visited his brother's grave in one year. He hadn't volunteered a reason and his family hadn't asked. He was grateful.
The slightest noise made him jump and grip his wand in his pocket. It's nothing, he kept telling himself. Just a cat. Fred liked cats, his subconscious treacherously told him. Another pang.
Finally he reached the place. The gate creaked a little when he pushed it open. He had no idea how but suddenly there he was, standing in front of the hunk of rock that mattered to him. His brother's headstone. How did he get there? He hadn't been there before. He hadn't known where it was. But there he was.
He shivered. He read the words on the gravestone.
FRED WEASLEY
1978-1998
MADE THE WORLD JUST A LITTLE BRIGHTER IN DARK TIMES. BELOVED TWIN, BROTHER AND SON.
He read it again. And again. It was so simple. And yet it was beautiful. He shivered again, though it was not from the cold. He felt like something-someone- was watching him. He swallowed and looked around. There was nothing. He sat on the ground, back resting against the headstone.
"Hey Freddie", he whispered, "long time, eh?"
He shuddered again. Merlin, it was cold!
"I'm sorry I haven't been here before. I just couldn't, you know?", his voice caught. He swallowed the lump in his throat and continued, "I couldn't face it. I still can't, but I guess I should. You'd've liked it."
The wind howled through the trees again.
"It isn't the same without you, buddy. Yeah we all pretend it is. Things are safer now I guess. But frankly, I'd rather have old Voldy back if it means we can fight him together, side by side, like we always promised -"
George couldn't go on. He rested his head on his knees and he cried. Cried like he'd never cried before. His shoulders shook as sobs wracked through his body, tears streaming down his face. He still remembered that night, as clear as anything. It had been all he'd thought of since it had happened...
"YOU HAVE ONE HOUR."
It was all silent. And then the death eaters, giant spiders, giants and werewolves retreated. Just like that. Even in his tired, injured and befuddled state, George marvelled at the amount of power Voldemort had over his supporters. Shaking his head, he started to walk back to the Great Hall. His family would be there. He'd regroup with Fred and they'd take care of the others. Fred wouldn't be injured. He was the strong one. George was the injury-prone one. Fred would even laugh at his twisted ankle. And yet, he was unable to shake off THAT feeling. The feeling that something had gone wrong. He'd started to feel that way an hour back. It had come in a burst of emotion and caused his concentration to lapse momentarily. Momentarily. But that had been enough for the stupid death eater to tackle him and make him fall down the staircase, twisting his ankle in the process. He'd disarmed him and the man still wouldn't give up!
George entered the Great Hall, trying to shake that feeling off. He'd see Fred and everything would be alright. He saw his family. They weren't easy to miss, a flock of vivid red hair near the far end of the hall. He limped toward them as quickly as his twisted ankle allowed. He instantly knew something was wrong. Even before he saw it in Ginny's eyes as she ran towards him and hugged him. He hugged her back, looking over her shoulder. There was someone on the floor. Someone who-
His mother stood up. And he saw that someone's face.
His brother.
His TWIN brother.
Fred.
Fred.
FRED.
FRED- NO!
No. No. No. NO.
This wasn't happening. This was his worst nightmare. This wasn't real. This was a nightmare. This wasn't real. It wasn't real.
He rushed to his brother's side.
George didn't remember his mother crying. He didn't remember his father gripping his shoulder. He didn't remember Bill hugging him. He didn't remember Ron, Harry or Hermione not being there.
All he remembered was his brother's hand, so cold in his own.
So cold and lifeless.
George wrenched himself back into the present. He was still crying, the flashback having done nothing to calm him down.
"Fred, come back", he sobbed, "Fred please! I'm nothing without you, Fred. You're my other half! It was always 'Fred and George' not just George! I want you back, Fred!"
And then he felt it. The wind. It blew across his face. But something was off. It wasn't cold anymore. In fact, it was warm. And gentle. And it smelled exactly like (dare he think it?) Fred used to.
"F-Fred?", he whispered, hoping against hope. "Fred, is that you?"
The wind blew again and this time he definitely smelt it.
"Fred!"
But no one came.
He waited, his heart beating faster than it ever had, feeling more alive than he had at any point in the last year.
Then he saw it. It was just a shimmering white glow at first but then it moved toward him.
He knew what it was, of course. It was a patronus. And it was a hyena. Just like Fred's had been.
George stood there, feet rooted to the ground, fear and hope tearing through him in equal measure.
The hyena approached him. It circled around his legs several times and then it looked up at him.
George saw Fred.
No literally of course. He saw Fred in the hyena's eyes.
"Fred?", he whispered.
I'm sorry, Georgie. He heard the voice in his mind. The same voice he'd missed so dearly. He had no idea how Fred was doing it and it was terrifying. But he held his ground. I'm sorry I left you all by yourself. But it's your turn now. I may be gone but you're my legacy. Make me proud, brother. I love you.
The hyena vanished. The warm breeze blew across his face, almost caressing it, and died out.
Then it was silent.
George stood there, speechless. He knew that Fred had just spoken to him from beyond the grave. Was that even possible? Maybe he'd had too much too drink.
But deep down, George knew it had been real.
He blew out the breath he hadn't been aware of holding.
A smile crept across his face, a real smile, for the first time in a year.
"I love you too, Fred", he whispered back.