A/N: Giant thanks to everyone who reviewed: Aris1013, chocolateMnMs, MaddyGervais, snitch-bewitch, TeamGredandForge, midnightstar19, ncis-lady, runeaglerun, SlyDevil. COOKIES, and Dimcairien. Your lovely reviews made me very happy, plus helped me finish a chapter I've been struggling with for the past few days. So really, thank you from the bottom of my heart :) Right so onto this chapter… Gah, I personally don't like it. It doesn't flow and it's depressing and… just not good. But I have no idea how to fix it, so I decided to just put it up and get it over with so I can get to the next chapter. Feedback would be much appreciated!

Oh, and SlyDevil. COOKIES: Haha, I looked it up and apparently Rafiki said it in Lion King 1 ½. I had no idea, but wow, good memory!

Chapter 10

As it turned out, George didn't have time to deal with Fred. Molly, delighted to have two of her sons back for a week, kept them busy, although she constantly fussed over George, making him rest and lie down.

"Don't want to upset your ear, dear," she would say. George, who quickly grew tired of the mollycoddling after a day, would glare at Fred, who would be sniggering behind her, finding the whole situation very amusing.

George could tell Fred was itching to get back to fixing their shop though. He too was feeling the same way; knowing there was so much to do and being forced to stay away from their shop for a week was pure torture. However they both stayed put, knowing how heartbroken their mother would be if they cut their stay short. Plus, spending time at home had its advantages; they saw their mother and father every day, plus they didn't have to cook.

It was with a great deal of happiness a week later however that they finally returned to their own flat. Opening the door to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, they saw that the shop was just as they had left it, which was a relief but also a painful reminder of just how much work they had to do. Verity had left; they could hardly blame her. She had signed on to help run a joke shop, not be attacked by Death Eaters.

The first night they were back in their flat was a strange one. It was the first time they had slept in their own beds since the attack on Diagon Alley, and the reminders of that night still lingered nearby. George eventually fell into an uneasy sleep, waking up again at two in the morning for no apparent reason. Groaning softly, he tried to get back to sleep but found his mind wasn't willing to cooperate. Instead, he found himself wandering into the kitchen, searching for a snack.

As it turned out, he wasn't alone. Fred was seated on the kitchen counter, munching on a chocolate frog. He looked up, startled by George's unexpected appearance.

"Couldn't sleep?" George asked as he grabbed his own chocolate frog from the box beside Fred, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Yeah," Fred said quietly. "You too?"

George shrugged tiredly as he heaved himself onto the kitchen counter next to Fred. They sat in silence for a while, feasting contentedly on the chocolate frogs. Eventually George could feel the tiredness creeping back in. He barely noticed until he found his head was resting on Fred's shoulder.

"I think you're ready for bed George," Fred commented with a smirk. George punched his arm lightly as he got off the counter and headed back to bed, yawning. He paused and turned to Fred questioningly.

"You coming?" He asked. For a moment Fred looked as though he was going to refuse; then he nodded, sliding off the counter and following George.

The following day, the twins got to work restocking their shop. It took a while for them to get into the rhythm. While they still had the basic recipes for each of their products recorded, Fred and George had fallen into the bad habit of adding new ingredients to increase the effectiveness of their products without recording them down. As a result, their attempts to recreate their products involved a lot more experimentation than either had planned.

"Fred, I'm positive we added lacewings in that one."

"No, we added lacewings to those ones. This one had salamander blood."

"No, I'm sure this one had the lacewings."

"Well fine, add it in then."

A loud explosion later…

"Okay, I'm gonna go with the lacewings for this one."

"Told you so."

In a way, George was grateful for this extra work though. It gave them both something to do, keeping them busy, keeping their minds off the war in an extremely effective way. Sometimes, after spending hours rediscovering the recipe for a product, George would almost feel like they were back in school, away from the dangerous world, just him and Fred planning how to make mayhem at Hogwarts. The elation both he and Fred felt every time they successfully conquered a recipe was a pleasant break from the pains of the war. And as their shelves slowly began to fill up with products, George finally allowed himself to believe that they could do this. Together, he and Fred could bring their joke shop back.

While the daytime kept them carefree, the night brought with it fears and uncertainties. Fred was not the only with nightmares; too often George would wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding. The nightmares varied; sometimes it was his family, being held prisoners, being tortured. Occasionally he would see a world where Harry was defeated and Voldemort ruled. More often than not though, George was plagued with visions of his family, dead. These were the worst; he would wake up yelling, his pillow wet with tears. He would wake up Fred in the process, but it hardly bothered Fred; the few nights George didn't have a nightmare, Fred would.

It eventually became an unspoken ritual for both twins to meet at in the kitchen at 2am every morning and snack on whatever they could find in their cupboards. They would occasionally speak, but the majority of the time was spent seated side by side, eating until one of them fell asleep. For some strange reason George found this comforting.

George's ear was still bothering him too. It was quiet most of the time, but when things got too loud, when he moved too suddenly, or when he apparated with Fred, it would flair up, and George would find himself curled up on the floor. Fred tried talking him into taking the potion, but George refused, too scared he would become dependent on them.

With all this on his mind, it was several weeks before George remembered to ask Fred what had been bothering him before.

"Nothing, George."

George sighed. He had been getting the same answer for the past two days and he was sick of it. Fred lifted a box of Puking Pastilles, intent on distributing them onto the newly repaired shelves. Instead, he found himself blocked by George, who was wearing a determined expression. Fred groaned.

"Fred, I know you were hiding something." George told Fred sternly.

"George, it's noth-"

"It's obviously something if you're going to such lengths to hide it."

Fred let out a frustrated huff, obviously realising that George wasn't going to let it go. He placed the box on the nearest shelf and turned to face George.

"I was just upset, okay? It's our shop, and they destroyed it." Fred said, jaw twitching. He picked up the box and turned to George. "I told you it was nothing," he mumbled as he walked away. George was left staring thoughtfully at Fred's back. He could understand Fred's anger; the shop had almost become a second home to them, the place of happiness and joy that they had strived to achieve since they were children. To see their work so brutally destroyed in a single attack was hard. With that thought in mind, George bent to collect his own box of Fainting Fancies, determined that he would work twice as hard to ensure their shop was restored to its original condition. For himself and for Fred.

One morning George was levitating a box of self-checking quills onto a high shelf when he heard a little tapping on the door. He turned around, thinking that perhaps his ear was playing up but Fred, who was standing near the counter, was also looking at the door. Evidently George hadn't just imagined it. Pulling out his wand from his pocket, George slowly opened the door, peering outside. To his surprise, he found a young boy, no older than eight years old, gazing up at him.

"Can- can I help you?" George asked, slightly bemused as he pocketed his wand.

"I'd like to buy something," the young child informed him.

"I'm sorry, we're not open yet," George told the boy, who looked heartbroken.

"But I saved up all my birthday money to buy something," the boy said, his bottom lip trembling. George could feel Fred approaching them and he turned helplessly to his brother.

"What do I do?" He whispered. Fred's eyes flickered between George and the boy standing before them. He eventually crouched in front of the boy.

"Hey, what's your name?" He asked softly.

"Bill," The boy replied, sniffing.

"Bill? Well how's that for coincidence! We have an older brother named Bill!" Fred exclaimed, looking at George.

"Are you an older brother, Bill?" George asked, crouching next to Fred. Little Bill nodded, eyes widening when he realised that the two men in front of him looked exactly the same.

"I got two sisters," he mumbled shyly. George exchanged a glance with Fred

"You know what Bill? We'll make you a special deal," Fred began, standing up.

"Just for you, because your name's Bill. If you promise to be a good older brother and look after your sisters, we'll let you come buy something. How does that sound?" George asked. Bill's face lit up.

"Oh yes please! I promise I'll look after them, I promise!" He said excitedly. Fred beamed.

"Well then, dear Bill, welcome to our shop," he declared, stepping aside so Bill could enter. Which he did, his eyes wide, mouth hanging open.

"You ever been here before Bill?" George asked as the young boy ran over to the nearest shelf. Bill shook his head vigorously.

"No sir," he said, running to the next shelf. His eyes widened as he found the trick wand section. He picked up one, and burst out laughing as it turned into a rubber chicken. George felt his heart flutter slightly at the sound; it had been so long since they had heard someone laugh in such a carefree way. Lord knows he and Fred hadn't for weeks.

"Can I buy this?" Bill asked, still grinning. Fred took it and walked to the counter.

"You sure can! It costs four galleons. Do you have that much?" Fred asked, slightly worried. Bill carefully counted the coins in his hand.

"I got four galleons, seven sickles and two knuts," he said proudly as he handed Fred the four galleons. Fred handed him the trick wand, grinning. Bill accepted it enthusiastically, giggling when it changed into the rubber chicken again.

"Thank you!" He exclaimed, turning to leave.

"Um Bill, where are your parents?" George asked, slightly worried at the idea of letting a young child roam the streets in such dangerous times.

"Outside. They're waiting for me," he informed them.

"Well then, you have a very good day Bill." Fred said as he joined George.

"You too, misters!" Bill ran out the door, grinning.

It was their first sale since the attack, and the fact that there were still people out there wanting to buy their products filled Fred and George with a renewed vigour. They would spend hours focusing on recreating their inventions, and their efforts were rewarded; slowly but surely, the shelves were filling up, the shop was beginning to feel as it had before.

On a night near the end of November, Fred and George were stocking shelves when there was a knock on their door. Exchanging a glance, Fred climbed down from the step ladder he was on while George put down the box he was carrying. The two drew their wands and cautiously approached the door, pulling it open slowly. A figure stood before them, wrapped in a thick jacket with a scarf covering their mouth so most of their features were obscured. There was no mistaking those laughing eyes though.

"Lee!" Fred exclaimed, pulling the figure- their old friend Lee Jordan- into a hug.

"Hey guys," Lee laughed as George did the same moments later, pulling him into the shop and closing the door, shutting out the cold.

"What are you doing here?" George asked, surprised.

"Visiting you. What does it look like?" Lee asked.

"Ha, you probably have an ulterior motive. Come to steal our newest inventions, haven't you," Fred joked.

"Oh yeah. I plan on opening up a rival joke shop next door and kick you guys out of business," Lee replied, eyes sparkling. The three broke into peals of laughter, and George couldn't believe how happy he felt to see a familiar face.

"Well it's great to see you mate," Fred said sincerely.

"It's great to see you too. George, how's the ear going? You never did explain what happened to it properly," Lee reminded. George began explaining the events that had occurred as they led Lee up to their flat, making sure to lock the shop door and put up protecting wards.

"I suppose its Snape's way of paying you back for that atrocity of a potion you made in our fifth year," Lee commented as they sat in the twin's living room, sipping firewhisky.

"Oh, you mean the Draught of Peace?" George reminisced.

"More like the Draught of Puke!"

"Yes, it did end up turning into a rather disgusting colour. I don't think he appreciated it exploding on him," George said thoughtfully.

Shame it didn't match too well with Snape's robes." Fred's eyes were gleaming.

"Or his hair," Lee added, grinning.

"He couldn't get it out for days," George continued, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"I don't think he took it well when McGonagall offered him a witch's hat-"

"With a stuffed vulture on top!"

The three howled with laughter, recalling Snape's murderous expression.

"I have some news for you lads," Lee said after their giggles had finally ceased. "I've just started my own radio broadcast."

"Lee, that's brilliant!" George exclaimed, leaning forward.

"Knew that Quidditch commentary would come in handy!" Fred declared. Lee beamed.

"Yeah, it's called Potterwatch. I'm going to try and tell listeners the truth about everything, unlike the rest of those Ministry controlled shows on air," Lee said, wrinkling his nose in disgust.

"We don't even bother turning the radio on anymore, they're playing absolute rubbish." George commented.

"What have you got planned so far?" Fred asked, eyes gleaming.

"Oh you know, just try and dispel rumours about You Know Who, report on deaths that have been hidden by the Ministry, and any other news." Lee looked excited at his new opportunity, and George didn't blame him in the slightest.

"Hey, you should have some segment where you get other people on to talk about Harry. I mean, he is the front man for our side. I'm sure that members of the Order would be willing to help," Fred suddenly said.

"Yeah! Lupin would definitely be interested. And maybe Kingsley too." George contributed.

"That's a brilliant idea! We could call it…" Lee paused, trying to think of a suitable name.

"Pals of Potter," Fred offered.

"Yes!" Lee leapt to his feet, face glowing. "I knew it was a good idea to come to you two!

"I knew there was a reason you came!" Fred declared, grinning.

"Yeah well, make sure you listen to my broadcast. You need a password to access it; this week's is going to be 'Fawkes'. It should be on Tuesday," Lee told them.

"We'll be listening," George promised. Fred nodded in agreement.

"Hey, you guys should come on one day! I'm sure the listeners would appreciate some light hearted humour," Lee said enthusiastically.

"We'll be there," Fred declared, raising his goblet of firewhisky in a toast. George and Lee raised theirs too, and there was a clunk as the three goblets hit each other, finalising the promise.

Next chapter: It's Christmas at the Burrow. Need I say more?

I also have a question for you all: Where would you like me to end this story? Because I can't quite decide, so I was hoping you guys could help me. I'd love to hear back from you!

Thanks for reading, and please review! :)