I do not own the rights to Harry Potter. Although, that would be awesome.
The alley was deserted. All around lay signs of disrepair and abandonment, shop after shop boarded up, some with smashed windows or broken signs. The only new were the posters plastered over every available surface. They all showed the same picture; a young man staring forward, blinking into the street, his green eyes almost as vivid as the lightning shaped scar across his forehead. Although the posters had tried to make him look dark and dangerous, there was a glint in his eyes and a slight smirk of a smile on his face that seemed to show a disrespect and humor to what he was meant to be portraying. Below his picture, in large dark writing there was written: WANTED. Undesirable Number One. A fee in galleons for his capture or knowledge of his whereabouts was also listed, almost unspeakably high. In this street, his picture was the only thing that moved, the only thing that showed that life existed there at all.
Then there was a noise, a thudding that got closer and closer. George Weasley skidded round the bend of the alleyway and pounded up the street, robes flying out behind him. His breath gasped through his throat, his face stark white, and strained. He paid no attention to the posters as he hurtled towards the end of the alley, to where a large marble white building rose up against the sky.
Before he reached it he slid to a sudden stop in front of a shop. Unlike the darkness of the other buildings, this shop exploded with color, right down to the flashing letters that proclaimed it to be "Weasleys Wizard Wheezes". Reaching down, George thrust his hand into his pocket and pulled out his wand. In between gasping breaths, he muttered incantation after incantation, slowly removing the many spells and protection charms that he and his brother Fred had placed over their shop in order to protect it from harm while they were gone.
In the back of his mind a part of him that was far removed from his current situation coolly noted that not a single one of the terrible wanted signs had managed to be placed on the shops windows. He and Fred had deliberately covered the shop front with as many charms for repelling as they could think of, laughing together at the thought of the ministry trying to cover up their many colorful posters and jokes.
Finally, with a last muttered spell, George was able to reach out and yank open the shops doors. As he entered, the place lit up with a lighting charm that seemed to bounce of the many different displays and boxes, bursting against their vivid colors. Smoke popped and figures moved as joke and trick alike sprang into action, activated by the presence of one of the twins. George ignored all of this as he hurried through the shop, through the side curtain, past the displays of defensive merchandise and towards the cellar door.
Staggering slightly, he clattered down the basement stairs and into the cellar. "Lumos" he muttered, lighting the tip of his wand and he ran once more through the darkened cellar floor, past boxes and boxes of unsold merchandise. He knew where he was going, knew what it was that he had to find. At last he rounded a corner past a display and finally saw what he was looking for. There, sitting side by side, were two large, flat rectangular shapes, wrapped carefully in brown paper and propped against the wall.
Slowing he walked over and sank to his knees in front of the parcel on the left. For a moment more he hesitated, feeling the lump that constricted his breath, his lungs and his heart getting heavier. He had not cried, not once, since that moment when they had carried his twins body into the Great Hall. This had upset his family, he knew. He had felt their concern and worry as he had stood there, looking down on his twins face and feeling the lump inside him grow and grow. They would be looking for him now he was certain, had known it the moment Ron and Percy had chased after him as he ran almost mindlessly from the Great Hall. They had called and called for him to stop as he ran but he hadn't, he couldn't. He knew, even if they didn't, where he had to go, where he had to be.
With hands that shook and felt like ice, he reached out and ripped the paper covering the canvas in front of him, tearing it away in one terrible pull. No one ever really thought that the twins had considered things much. They had always been the larrikins, the pranksters, ever laughing, ever joking, never, ever letting anyone down for a moment. But there was so much more to them, more then anyone had realized. Even their parents.
They had known what they were facing, the hazards they were challenging, of what it was they could lose. And, so, they had prepared these in secret, prepared and then hidden them, here in the darkest corner of the basement. With any luck, they would never be needed again but the twins knew the possibility of the terrible truth. There was no way for a twin to be without the other, for what existence was there when your other half was taken forever?
So he ripped at the paper, tearing it away, tearing even as he felt his heart tearing in two. And there, blinking, raising a hand to protect his eyes from the sudden bright light, Freds' image gazed up at him.
"What? George what's…" Fred began, until he caught the expression on the face peering down at him. Suddenly, shockingly clear, understanding hit him and his face became somber.
"So, it happened, then." He said.
George managed to nod once, the great lump inside him swelling up so hard that, for a moment, he could only gasp. Then it broke, bursting forth from him in huge, gasping, gut-wrenching tears that blinded him to everything before him. For a long time, he crouched there, shaking in misery, rocking back and forth on the spot as his twin miserably gazed back at him, trying to whisper words of comfort.
"Why?" George gulped, as bitter tears ran into his mouth and down his throat, soaking his collar.
"No, Georgie, no" Fred said. "Not why." His painted face looked imploringly up at his twin, tears running down it. "It had to be this way. It had to."
"It had… Why?" George whispered in shock, trying to brush aside the tears that flowed so he could better see his twin.
"You don't know." Fred replied, miserably shaking his head, staring as though looking at something far away. He sighed and looked up at his twins face once more, his eyes resting on the gaping hole where his twin had once had an ear. He took a deep breath, "When that happened Georgie, when I saw what had happened to you..." He drew a shuddering breath and ran his hand over his eyes. "When I saw that and thought, when I thought you were dead, I knew. I knew it right then and there, at that moment. When I saw you, I knew that it would be me. I knew that it had to be me".
He looked at his brother, eyes expressing what he was trying so hard to say. "You, you laughed. When you found out what had happened, you joked, and it was all okay. You made it all okay. But if you hadn't, if you hadn't been okay, if it was something worse… I knew at that moment, right then and there, that I wouldn't have been able to cope. You can do this George, out of anyone, I know that you can do this. Which is why it had to be me." He tried to smile. "The plain fact is, bro, I wouldn't have survived without you".
George sat there, unable to speak, unable to move, just staring, staring, like he could never stop, at his twins face. "I don't think I can do this alone." He whispered at last.
"Tsk, tsk, George, I thought you knew better than that." Fred said, and waved his hands around the portrait he sat in. "That's why these were created remember? We made these so that we wouldn't be alone." He leant as far forward as the frame would allow. "And it's not just the portrait George, don't forget that".
George nodded, and finally managed to wipe his face clear of the tears that had swamped it.
Fred returned the nod, a glint of sadness and acceptance in his eyes, before raising his arms, indicating to George to get to his feet. "If you don't mind, bro, I'm finding this area insufficient to my needs. I am, after all," and here he raised a hand mock-arrogantly to his chest, "one of the founding partners of Weasley Wizard Wheezes and therefore deserve a place of honor".
At this George managed to give forth a watery chuckle. As he lent forward and carefully picked up his brothers' portrait, Fred whispered quietly, "Don't forget, George, it's only for now. There is after all two of us and one day when it's time, we will stand together once more side by side".
George glanced at his twin and then allowed his eyes to slowly stray down till they rested on the other paper-wrapped frame on the floor. From it, very faintly, he caught the merest hint of a snore.
Ever so carefully now he walked back through the basement, making sure to raise the portrait high whenever it was at risk of hitting one of the boxes. As he walked Fred cracked jokes about everything from the terrible way his skin looked up close, to the many things he wanted hung up over his portrait as a sign of his importance.
Up the stairs George climbed, the portrait feeling like a heavy but cherished burden. Once more he walked past the defense products and through the intervening curtain, now hanging slightly askew from his rush before. Into the shop he went but this time, instead of heading right towards the door, he walked left towards the counter. There, on the wall, in clear display, were two empty gaps, the exact size and shape to fit two portraits. Reaching over he dragged a chair into place and clambered aboard. Carefully, he picked up his brothers' portrait and turned it to face the wall. Pulling out his wand once more he pointed it at the frame and muttered "permento", before turning the portrait around and carefully placing it in the left-side gap.
"Hmm, yes very nice." Fred said, surveying the shop, "I'll be able to see any little buggers who try to swipe our stuff from up here. Plus, let's face it, I'm going to add a real ambiance and charm to the place." And he grinned wickedly at his twin.
George gave a half laugh and a nod, and started to climb down.
"Oy!" Fred said. "Forgetting something, are we?" and he pointed above his head.
"I don't think I could forget that." George said quietly, and pointed his wand at the frame. "Accio" and a small circular frame flew from its hanging on the top of Fred's portrait to his hand. Looking at his brother George took his wand once more, and muttering the permanent-sticking charm, stuck the frame to the top of the gold watch he wore on his left arm.
"Ready?" Fred called.
"Ready." George nodded. Fred smiled and walked out the side of his frame to appear moments later much smaller on the portrait now permanently stuck to his brother watch.
"Bit cosy, but it will do." He said with a grin, patting the inside of the portrait. George smiled and, without another word, turned and walked back out of the shop. He had to go find his family and reassure them that all was well. He could do that now that he was no longer alone.