White. Everything was white, and George absolutely hated the color. There wasn't anything more boring, in his mind. That's why the shop he and Fred ran was filled with color. Bright, brilliant colors of blues and pinks and greens. There was always something fun going on at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. A joke shop, to fit every pranksters needs. It had been the long time dream he and his twin had shared, and it had come true.

Fred. He was laying motionless on the small bed, his body stretched out and covered in a thin layer of dirt. Clothes were ripped to shreds, and most of the fabric had fallen apart by the the time they got him to St. Mungos. It had been such a close call with his brother; his other half, that he could hardly believe it. When that wall had came tumbling down onto him, George was sure he was dead. Everyone was positive. But it had been Percy that found the weak heartbeat, beating just barely. It had been so faint, and it still was. The only thing that reassured George in the slightest was the barely noticeable rise and fall of his chest. The nurses were doubtful that he'd live. His bones were shattered from the wall, and had punctured quite a few organs. Though they were unsure, they came in every hour on the hour to hand feed Fred a nasty looking murky green and brown potion, to help heal up the holes inside of him.

It had been five days now, since he was brought in. Fred had yet to open his eyes, and it was driving the twin insane. He had been religiously sitting by his side, never moving except for a quick run to the loo. Percy brought him each of his meals, and would come sit with him for a few hours. After a few attempts, the older brother had realized trying to get the distraught George to talk was futile. Now, they would sit in silence while they ate. George only slept when it was from pure exhaustion, and could not stay up; but even then, he didn't leave. He slumped over his brothers bed, grasping his hand tightly. At best, he'd only get an hour or two. Just enough sleep to keep his brain functioning.

He was staring at the bed, when one of the nurses came in, leaning against the door frame. "You should prepare to say goodbye," She said softly. George turned, and recognized her vaguely as a Hufflepuff girl that had been a year under him. "He hasn't gotten better, and it's been nearly a week. It might've been too late," She spoke again, before biting her lower lip. "I'm really sorry, George." And with that, she left. George shook his head. No, he'd be alright.

Grasping his brothers hand again, he took a deep shuddering breath, before his lips moved, forming words that slowly started to grow louder. "Please, Freddie. You have to live. Don't die, you can't. I can't live without you; your my other half. Please, please, Fred. Who's going to finish my sentences? Who am I going to prank Percy with? I can't do any of it without you. Please, Freddie." By the end, he was openly crying, propping his head on his arm, which was on the edge of the bed. He kept muttering "Please, please..."

What George couldn't see, was the inner battle going on inside his brother. Fred could hear his twin's pleading, and was trying desperately to wake up. But he couldn't move, everything hurt. Like he had fallen off his broom while miles in the air. He couldn't make any of his muscles obey, and it frustrated him. He had to wake up. For George. For the rest of his family. He could clearly recall those last few moments before everything went black. He had lost focus, being taken by surprise when he heard Percy-Percy Weasley tell a joke. He hadn't heard him joke around since Percy was 10, before he went to Hogwarts. That was back when he was still their big brother, who used to play with them, and join in on their mischief, instead of scolding them for it. The twins had been one of the most heartbroken of the family when Percy chose his job over them, but they had also been one of the first to welcome them back with open arms.

Fred struggled harder, to do anything. Wriggle his fingers, open his eyes, anything to comfort his brother. He could hear him crying, and it made his heart clench. The two of them had always taken support from each other when times got hard. And they didn't often show their emotions like these, unless it was very bad. When no one had been around, he had cried when George lost his ear, certain he would die. The last year had taken it's toll on them. He willed his eyes to open, and it took a long time before they snapped open. A soft cry of anguish fell from his lips at the brightness of the room before shutting them tightly again. His breath grew slightly ragged, before attempting again, slower.

George's head snapped up at the cry, surprise clear on his face. "F-Freddie?" He asked, almost disbelieving. Sure enough, identical brown, nearly hazel eyes were staring back at him. He had to stop himself from throwing himself at his brother for a hug. He still had broken bones. He squeezed his hand tightly instead. "You're alive," He breathed. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

"Course I am," He rasped. "It's going to take a lot more than a wall to snuff me out," He smiled weakly, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. George nearly beamed From the small attempt at a joke. That was his Fred. The wounded twin tried to cough, the movement causing another bought of pain to shoot through him, causing him to groan.

"Water?" George asked softly. Fred gave a mere nod, and he stood up, going to the small table to grab a glass of water with a straw in it. He brought it over,vans helped him take a sip, biting his lower lip.

"George?"

"Yeah, Fred?"

"I wouldn't leave you behind so soon."

They spent the next few hours talking happily. George relayed the ending events of the battle, including the bit about Neville Longbottom and the sword of Godric Gryffindor. Fred had been quite surprised to hear that bit. But the part he was REALLY surprised at,cwas the act that their mum killed Bellatrix Lestrange (of course he knew his mum had it in her, he just didn't expect her to use such foul language!).
George had tried multiple times to convince Fred to let him grab a doctor, but the twin wasn't having it. George had been able to convince the nurses to let him feed Fred the potion, and they agreed happily, as it freed up their schedule. The hard part had been convincing Fred to drink it. It had taken a lot of begging, and promises to get better, before Fred would open up his mouth ("tastes worse than that polyjuice").

Fred gave a loud exhale, which made George look up questioningly. "I want to go home, Georgie," He said quietly, glancing around the white room. "I want to be in my room, in my old bed." George realized he wasn't talking about their flat about Wheezes, he was talking about the Burrow. He nodded softly, and Fred continued. "I don't want to be here, I don't want to hurt," He said brokenly.

"If you want to get better, we need the doctor. He'll give you something to fix you up really good, Freddie," He was pleading again. "Please, let me get him? Then we can go home, and everything will be better again." Fred was hesitant. He knew it was going to hurt more. But seeing the look on his brother's face, he sighed and gave a tiny nod. George beamed again, and gave a squeeze to his hand before running out.

By now, Fred was struggling to even stay awake. He knew George was trying to keep him up, afraid that if he fell back asleep, he wasn't going to wake up. But he was drained of all energy, and he allowed his eyes to drifted shut in the momentary silence. He used the measly minute or two to attempt to rest up, before George came in, doctor in tow, carrying a couple different vials. "Fred? The doctor's here," He said, loud enough to get his brother to open up his eyes.

The doctor gave a brief description of the vials, and mentioned a brief bought of pain-to which Fred made a noise that sounded like a whimper. George promised he could handle it, and the Doctor looked over the exhausted man standing next to him. Figuring he was alright, he passed the potions to him, before heading out. George sat down with the three vials, and bit his lower lip. "One every two hours, he said." He uncorked the first one. Unlike the potion the nurses had been giving him, this was a navy blue color, but didn't smell very pleasant. George placed it to his brothers lips, knowing he wouldn't be able to. Fred sighed again, before drinking it down obediently. It was gone in three swallows, and he coughed, a shudder running through him.

It happened only a moment later, Fred arched up off the bed, and a loud cry left his lips. It felt like his bones were breaking again, pain pulsing heavily through him. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hands clenching at the sheets.

It lasted for what seemed like hours, and he managed to curl up on his side after much difficulty. He panted heavily and ground his teeth together, body shaking as the pain slowly lessened. His body felt frozen again, his muscles having tensed up so much. He managed to open his eyes, and saw George in bed with him.

When they were younger, they would slip into each other's bed when they were scared or hurt. Like when Bill would tell them scary stories, or Charlie talked about Voldemot. They would take comfort in each other. They hadn't done it since they were kids, however. Right now, Fred felt smaller than he had in a long time. He gave George a grateful look, and they embraced.

"I love ya, Freddie."

"Love you too, Georgie."

George stayed by Fred for the next two potions, and for the months of physical therapy that followed. Though potions could fix bones, they couldn't repair nerve or the slight brain damage he experienced. He had to relearn walking, holding things, and other small things like that. It was frustrating for him, not being able to close his hands around something, or stumbling after walking two steps. It was a long road, but he had his family to help him each step.

He was alive, and the Weasley family was soon back to normal; Fred and George tossing jokes around and running their shop, and chaos still ensued while the family was all together. It was their life- What they grew up with, and what they loved.

Sitting at dinner one night, Fred looked around and knew there was a reason he didn't die yet. He couldn't leave this so soon.