A/N: I'm updating super fast for this story mainly because so many of you guys have asked me to update ASAP. I'm not saying that I'm going to do this all the time, but since it's the weekend, I figured I'd do a second update today. You're so very welcome!

Review please and thank you!

Once again, George found himself faced with two letters inside one envelope. As he pulled out the separate pieces of parchment, he noticed that the handwriting on both was similar, though he could tell that two different people had clearly written these. The writing on one was big and girlish, with swooping curves and small hearts dotted above the "i" 's. The other letter was more refined, the writing curled and elegant, and George finally recognized it as his sister-in-law's.

George remembered the first time he had seen Miss Fleur Delacour. It was during his sixth year when the Triwizard Tounrament was announced and the whole of Hogwarts watched excitedly as the Durmstrang students marched in, and then there came those lovely Beauxbatons girls, led by the utterly, astonishingly enormous Madame Maxime and Fleur Delacour. She was beautiful, French (part Veela, according to Harry) and of course, married to his older brother, Bill. She had changed quite a bit from her flouncy, flirtatious ways as he had known her before. Now, so long after the war with three children, she had changed into George could really see loving, truly loving, his elder brother.

That had been his and Fred's first concern. That she wasn't really in love, that she was only into him to spite her family, perhaps, or because she thought he was interesting and wanted to change him. It didn't make sense that a girl like her would be drawn to Bill, the rebel red-haired curse breaker who came from a huge family of boys and a house held together with patchwork knitting patterns and magic.

So he and Fred had made it their mission to discover why this beautiful French woman would be mingling with their Burrow. They had looked into her family (mother, father and a sister, all beautiful, and all incredibly lovely people), and her friends (she only had a very close few). Finally they looked into how she was with Bill, and George remembered thinking that it was too late. He may not have trusted Fleur at first, but Bill, he could tell, was head over heels in love with this girl. Fred had looked at him, and he had looked at Fred, and they had silently agreed to let things be. It was Bill's choice, anyway.

As time went on, George noticed that Fleur was so much more than her looks and her accent. She was funny, and she was incredibly kind and caring, and she was in no way shallow. She connected to Bill in a way he had never seen his big brother connect to anyone before. His mother was slow to come around, but eventually she saw what they did: that Bill and Fleur really and truly loved each other, and there was no stopping their life together.

George looked at this well scripted letter, the cursive swimming over the small sheet of parchment.

Fred,

Je suis tres desolee, mon cher frère. Excuse moi pour mon francaise. Pardon, I sometimes slip back into my French, even in writing, when I am sad. And I am so very sad, Fred. I know you and I have never been close, and now we shall never be. But from the time we did know each other, those few short years, and became family, I thought you were wonderful. During the tournament, you and your brother always made me laugh with your antics and your silly cheers and your dancing. I thought it was lovely how you brought so much laughter to a place I thought rather damp and grey. Not to mention when you told me that you rather enjoyed my bouillabaisse. I know it was dreadful that first trial, but it was kind of you to say otherwise. You were always very kind to me. You and George.

And Bill also tells me that you were the one to convince him to talk to me at the end of the tournament. I know how shy he can be, especially nowadays with his added scars, so I wish to say thank you. So very much. Because of you, we fell into a grand love the likes of which I had only barely imagined for myself and that survived an unspeakable war. Because of you, we have Victoire, and then Dominique and our Louis. We have a family, a real family together.

Thank you, Fred. I do love you, and I do miss you terribly.

Your sister (in law)

Fleur Weasley (prev. Delacour)

George looked at the short letter, wondering how his sister's feelings had been hidden from him for so long. He had always figured that Fleur had only ever mourned because Bill had mourned. Never had he though that maybe she mourned for a brother she never got to really know.

"If this was Fleur," George muttered to himself, now looking at the second letter, "who might this be…?"

Bonjour mon frère!

Do you remember me, Fred? The last time we met, I was perhaps eleven years old. I have grown to be almost twenty-nine now, very different from the little French girl who, to be honest, had a crush on her future brother, Harry Potter. I know, I was silly! But in my defense, he had saved my life in the Great Lake and I simply swooned!

I realized that I never really had the chance to call you my brother, nor did you have the chance to properly call me your sister. How sad, is it not?

Fred, my dear sister says that you were the one who helped her find her husband. Thank you for helping her find her happiness, and her family.

Everyone says you were a hero. I do not know much of what happened, for I was not there. My sister had ushered me and our parents out to France, far away from the danger. But that doesn't matter because I know that you are a hero, Fred. I didn't need to be at the Battle of Hogwarts, and I don't need the stories everyone tells. I know you were a hero because I look at my sister's husband, and I look at George, and Ron and Ginny and I know you are their brother, and I take how brave and strong they are, how strong my whole new family is, and I know you were the same.

I am proud to be a part of this family. I wish we could have spent more time together. Don't tell Fleur, but I always secretly wanted an older brother. You would have been the best.

Your little sister,

Gabrielle Delacour

P.S - Isn't my English divine! Bill and Fleur taught me well, no?

"Gabrielle." George said her name like a sigh, recalling the little blond French girl, now a lovely adult, and her sister. Now, they bother were his sisters, he reminded himself. Gabrielle spent most of her time in America teaching at the American Wizarding school, Ilvermorny, and running for a small position in their MACUSA Ministry. She really was something. George reread the last line of her letter.

You would have been the best.

"He was the best brother." George said. "He was the best."