The fireworks created a ray of color so beautiful the two boys were silent for a moment, just watching, waiting. For what, though, they didn't know. It was magic, and it was wonderful. They both knew it would look great over the fields of Hogwarts, glistening in their names. Fred and George. George and Fred. Twin brothers.
They let them go again, their brown eyes watching every little explosion, alight with glee and mischief and wonder. They were seventeen, but they could still enjoy the little things, right? It wasn't like anyone else would find out. Besides, it was too great not to love. The boys wondered why they hadn't tried the fireworks before now.
Three years later, he was twenty, and the other was forever nineteen, six feet below. George let the fireworks go, and he watched with brown eyes, alight with the sense of freedom and love. He could almost imagine his brother crouching next to him, watching, waiting, and smiling. For a moment, George thought he heard his brother's voice.
Fireworks always brought out the best in you. Let them bring it back.
