A/N: For one, I stuck to canon for most bits but you'll see that some parts, I did not stick to canon. Why? Because I like the other pairings better ._. Just a warning in advance, that's all.
Disclaimer: Anything recognized to be J.K. Rowling's work is not my work.
He rummaged through the kitchen cabinets and grabbed a piece of chocolate and chewed. He needed something in his stomach to feel better before he went. Dead of night, he had to be quiet as not to wake Angelina or their young son. They had gone to bed earlier than usual today. He placed all the things he needed on the island counter of the kitchen and ticked off his mental checklist.
He glanced at the clock above the dining table, sighing and composed himself before Apparating to an all-too-familiar place. Two bottles of Firewhiskey and a small blue box neatly tied with a red ribbon in hand, he Apparated away, gone with the pop. Whistling an empty tune, he walked with slightly shaky legs, as he always had. Springtime had always been good to him before but now… it felt different.
The new moon shone before him, illuminating the darkness of the night. Cloudless and starry, George looked up and a small smile played on his lips. The clanging sounds of the two Firewhiskey bottles knocking against each other in his hand chimed in the silence.
George had walked this path many times before, passing every tree, every stone monument, he could've traveled blindfolded. His feet made soft crunching noises with every step he took, accidentally stepping on a branch or too.
He stopped in front of a grave, placing the Firewhiskey and the box down on the dry earth. He squatted and brushed the gravestone, reading the epitaph silently- for the millionth time.
"Reckon I must be crazy, sneaking out like this all the time," George sat down, facing the gravestone. "I really missed you, buddy."
He pulled his knees toward him and hugged them. "Well, let's see. I've got loads to tell you, Freddie. Well, Fred II is doing great, you would've been really proud of your nephew. He can ride that toy broom Harry bought him like a pro. He tried the Wronsky Feint and all! And he's only three, mate! Wonderful kid, that one."
George smiled and looked up into the moonlight, staring into the dark abyss of the night.
"I think Angelina's pregnant again," George grinned at the gravestone. "She gets all pissy at me for no reason. Or maybe I shouldn't have implied that she's gained some pounds lately." A small laughed escaped his lips.
"Ginny's pregnant too, you know," George mumbled. "Harry's kid, of course! Their first but looking at them, I doubt it'll be their last. She's almost bursting, actually. They're really happy; I wish you were there on their wedding day. You know, it didn't feel right giving Harry the 'older brother' talk alone. It would've been better if you were there.
"Ron's engaged to Luna now, honestly, Loony Lovegood? I guess we were wrong when we said he and ol' 'Stick-in-the-arse' Granger would grow old together, eh? But Luna's nice. They're really good together, actually. She lightens Ron up when he's stressed. Speaking of Ron, he's doing fairly well as an Auror. Been beaten up a few times but he's a tough lad. He's rising up the ranks pretty quickly, almost as fast as Harry.
"Oh, Granger's been out and about a lot lately. Just about three weeks ago, she popped by the Burrow with her new boyfriend. Ron nearly hexed him on the spot, of course. Well, all of us would've done it, actually, since she brought Draco Malfoy back home.
"Ron started rambling on and on about how she was under the Imperius and how Malfoy wanted to kill us all. But he wasn't all that bad, surprisingly. Maybe that's what they say, time changes a man. I still don't understand what Granger sees in him, though. He's polite and shy too. Must've been ashamed of himself, no doubt. But Granger loves him, so he might not be all that bad.
"Moving on, Charlie's still with his dragons in Romania. Mum thinks he's never going to find a nice girl to settle down with. I offered my opinion that perhaps Charlie was dragonsexual but they didn't really get it. I bet you'd have gotten it. Percy has been… Percy. Ugh. I truly wonder how he'd ever gotten Audrey to marry him in the first place.
"Bill and Fleur are in France right now with their half-French kids. Their accents, Merlin, it's bad enough to listen to Fleur attempt English. Victoire's picking up the accent just nicely. Little Dominique, however, is still learning to talk and has been practically conversing in French with Fleur. Thank Godric Bill is still understandable."
George laughed softly.
"I've missed you so much, Fred. Nothing's ever the same without you. Even the shop's not the same. It's our shop but why do I feel all alone in it?" George put his face in his hands.
"You're never there to finish my sentences for me. Inventing things has never really been the same, Freddie. You're not there to give me remarks or to test the products with me. Of course, I have the helpers but they're not you.
"We're twins, Fred, remember that? We were born together. We were supposed to die together. Do you remember that, Fred? What happened? Why did you go so fast? Why didn't you wait for me? Born together, live together, die together. Dammit, Freddie." George slammed his fist against the ground, now sobbing softly.
"You were my best friend, still are, actually. You know, I still hate mirrors, after all this time. I can't stand looking into one and only seeing myself there. A shadow of my former self. I miss you so much, Fred. I – I can't even look at myself without thinking of you.
"I can't get over you, Fred. How am I supposed to? We spent nine months stuck in a womb together. There shouldn't be a stronger bond between two people like us twins. You're my best friend, my brother, my twin. No matter what, Fred." George sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"I'm so tired of all this, Fred. I wish I could move on. I guess I've taken your death the worst out of the lot. I don't know how to do it, Fred. I'm not strong like you. I've always been the weaker one among the two of us. I hate the fact that I never got to fight by your side, never got to avenge you. I miss you so much, mate.
"I'm not always like this, you know. Only when I'm here, with you. You're special, Fred." George's tears ran down his face. He let them. He wasn't bothered by them anymore. Grow up, George, he thought to himself every day. Growing up meant letting go, and letting go meant forgetting. He didn't want to forget. He couldn't.
A warm breeze seemed to engulf George. He felt a shiver run down his spine and the warm air tickled through his hair, messing it up slightly, like how Fred used to do. He felt the breeze go through all parts of his body, making him feel a little bit better than he was before. One last gust of warm air blew against his –lack of- ear, as if a hand was caressing it softly.
The bell of the clock tower of the church rang twelve times signaling midnight. Teary-eyed, George reached for the bottles of Firewhiskey and opened them. He placed one bottle against Fred's gravestone and took a swig out of his own. It burned down his throat, the familiar sensation.
George carefully took the small blue box and untied the ribbon. Inside was a small cake with one candle on it. He took out his wand and muttered a spell to light up the candle.
"Happy birthday to us, Freddie. Just you and me."
/FIN.
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