Dear Fred,

I solemnly swear that I am up to no good…

Did you know...I had a twin once?

Are you still a twin when the other one is gone? I'm not sure I really want to know.

Fred, where are you? I wake up every morning and look for you in the bed next to me, but you aren't there. You're never there.

Mum said if I write to you, I'll feel better, but so far, I'm only feeling worse.

What are you doing right now?

I bet you're playing loads of pranks on everyone. Is Dumbledore there? Have you tried to give him one of our joke Lemon Drops? You know the ones, where they turn your socks into snapping turtles? No, I suppose not.

I'm sorry I'm not there with you, Fred. Some days, I wish I were…At first, I had wished it was me that was gone, but then you'd be where I am right now, wouldn't you?

Everyone always had trouble telling us apart, but you and I knew we were both very different. You were always the smarter one. You came up with the best ideas and you always knew just what to say. You were better in school, too. You could have aced all of our classes, even with that troll of a woman taking over, but you left because of me, didn't you? You saved me, like you always have, but I couldn't save you, Fred.

I couldn't save you…I'm so sorry…

What do I have going for me now? Sure, I have my looks, but all that gets me is a wife and maybe a kid or two...it doesn't bring my twin back.

You were more than just my brother, you know? You were my best friend. I told you everything I had ever thought and felt; I talked to you about everything. Well, there was one thing I never had a chance to tell you, Fred. I never got to tell you 'I love you.' Can you believe it? I had all those years with you, and I never once said it. I guess I thought I would have a lot longer with you than I did.

The day you died, a piece of me died with you. Sometimes, I'm not even sure which 'me' I am. Am I Fred? Am I the one who died? Is that why I feel so much pain all the time? It never stops, George. When I'm sleeping, when I'm eating, even when I'm you, I still feel it. When I'm speaking to others, sometimes I won't finish my sentences because I'm so used to you doing it for me. I'm only half a man without you. Please...come back to me?

I promise I'll tell you I love you every day…

I'll clean your socks, I'll iron your shirts, I'll even do it the muggle way, if I can find out how to do it…

Just...please come back…

I'm sorry.

Enough of that drivel, right mate? Let's lighten the mood a bit.

Harry's doing better every day. He's been walking a bit, I hear. I haven't been to see him yet, but I plan on going some time soon. If I don't, I imagine he'll come looking for me himself. Can't have him collapsing halfway here, after all!

Ron and Ginny miss you. We all do, but I think besides myself, they miss you the most. They're the youngest ones, you know? They don't know how to deal with losing their brother. Then again, neither do I…

I hear mum's been crying almost every night. I don't think she's gotten a decent night's sleep in years, not since you...and dad has trouble handling it, too. Sometimes, he won't even go home until early the next morning. I don't expect he's drinking or anything; he's probably just tinkering with some muggle toys or something, but I wish he would go home sooner. Mum really needs him.

You remember Snape? He's alive too. I'll bet you're happy to know that! You won't have to see him where you are. It's too bad you won't get to pull any pranks on him, though, and I've been too busy to even try.

I've been experimenting on a few new potions for our shop. One is supposed to make ears grow all over your body! That one's still got a few bugs to work out...I think there's still a couple of ears on my...well, moving on…

I also tried making a potion that shows you images of people you're looking for, kind of like that Erised Mirror that Harry always talked about. I thought that maybe I could see you again...one last time.

My last potion you might not like, but it's one I've been working the most on, the one I need the most. It's called Forget Me. Can you guess what it does, Fred? That's right. It makes you forget. I love you so much, but I can't take the pain anymore. I thought...that maybe, if I can just forget...Well. You might not like it, but it's what I need to do, otherwise...well, who knows what I might do? I might even see you sooner than you'd like, mate. This really is the best option for me. I hope that some day, you'll understand, and when I do see you again, I hope you won't be too cross with me. I do love you, Fred. Please, remember that always.

George yanked the parchment off of the table and ripped it into pieces before setting it on fire with a concentrated 'Incendio!' He just couldn't get himself to continue the letter. What else could he say? Fred was gone. It wasn't like he was actually going to read it, anyway. "This was a dumb idea."

He pushed himself away from the table and glanced around the small room he had been staying in since he left everything behind. His cot took up one entire side of the room, and a decently sized desk the other, which left the center of the room for his cauldron. The remaining two walls were lined with cabinets for storage, which currently contained ingredients and small gadgets that he had been tampering with to pass the time between brewing. Apart from the loo in the back, that was about all he had, now. Well, it isn't much, but it's enough. He was about to return to his potions, when his pensieve caught his eye. He had forgotten the memory he'd left in there from the previous night...he should probably put it away…

He stepped over to the pensieve, nudging old granola wrappers out of his way as he went. Eventually, he'll find the will to clean. Leaning over the rim, he watched silently as his memories swam around the bowl like Goldfish in a pond. Maybe Just...one more time.

Letting himself become immersed in the memory was sweet to say the least, but he was always afraid that he'd never want to come out again. I'm sure it will be fine. One last look, then I'll put it away.

He closed his eyes, held his breath, and allowed his memories to swallow him once more.

When he again opened his eyes, he was blessed with the familiar surroundings of his room at the Burrow, before it had been set on fire.

"George! She's coming, quick!"

A little seven year old Fred slid into the bedroom right through his corporeal form, his twin close behind. He stepped to the corner of the room and watched in amusement as the two young boys hurriedly returned all of their secret pranks to their hiding places, finishing just before their mum entered.

"What have you two been up to? I heard a crash!"

Both boys had their hands behind their backs and were staring up at their mum innocently as they rocked on their feet.

"Whatever do you mean, mother?" Little George inquired.

"Yes, mother, I can't imagine what noise you might have heard!"

Of course, she didn't buy it one bit. "Where's your brother?"

"He's right here!" The twins said in unison, pointing at each other.

"Not that one! You know which I mean! Fred, tell me now!" She looked at one of the boys crossly, hands on her hips in a no-nonsense manner.

"I'm not Fred!"

"I am!" George raised his hand.

"Honestly! And you call yourself our mother!"

"Sorry, George dear." Their mum sighed, placing her hand on her forehead in exhaustion. "Go outside, will you? And stop testing things on Ronald!"

"Sure thing! We'll be good-"

"We promise!" The boys responded.

Before Fred followed his brother out of the room, he turned to his mother and tugged on her apron. "I'm only joking...I am Fred." He grinned and ran after his twin.

Before he could see anymore, George found himself thrust into another familiar memory, this one much more intimate.

"George?"

George looked over at his brother from his side of the room. He couldn't see him through the darkness, but he didn't need to. Even if Fred hadn't spoken, he always knew where he was. "What's up, Fred?"

"When we get older, what do you wanna do?"

George smiled as he watched his twelve year old self mull it over before answering. "Well, I suppose I'll keep doing what we've always been doing."

"Playing pranks on everyone?" He could hear Fred's grin in his voice. Oh how he missed that voice…

"Yup!"

George heard his brother rustle around in his bed as he tried to get comfortable. He'd always wondered what made him so restless that night. It would just be another of the many things he would never get to ask.

"What's wrong, Fred?"

"George, what happens when we get married?"

"Well, I reckon we'll play pranks on our new families, too!"

"Together?"

"Of course!"

George was surprised to feel tears trail down his cheeks. He hadn't cried the last time he viewed this memory...Time to go.

After pulling himself out of the past, George couldn't hold it in anymore. He slowly sank to the floor, buried his face in his hands, and cried. How long had it been since he cried over his brother? Weeks, surely...He didn't understand. Every day, his family seemed to handle it easier and easier, but for him, it was like it would always remain as fresh as it was on the first day. He would never get used to a world without Fred. Not as long as he could remember him.

That's why...he had to do this.

He allowed himself another few seconds of tears before pulling himself together. He needed to finish the job. Rebottling his memories, he placed them back into a small wooden crate he kept underneath his desk that was already bursting with all things Fred. Thank Merlin for magic.

His cauldron was just finishing up it's last hour of simmering. It should be about ready, he just needed one last thing. He stepped over to his cabinet of supplies and rummaged around until he found it. Fred's old stirring rod. He remembered getting it for him in their third year when he accidentally made the first one explode. He had felt so horrible about it, but Fred just laughed it off, saying it had been the best explosion he had ever seen.

He returned to his potion and stirred counter-clockwise once, twice, three times, aaaand done. He carefully dried off the stirring rod and set it aside. All that's left is to let it cool. I suppose I'll just take a nap until then. George was about to settle back into his cot, when he remembered the letter he had tried to write to his brother. "This will be my last chance to write it..."

With new determination, he sat at his desk, dipped his quill, and wrote:

Dear Fred,

Mischief Managed.

George.