Thanks for being patient with me while my time was otherwise occupied this past weekend! :)

I want to preface this chapter by saying: I am a big fan of the bond between Fred and George, and I like to imagine that they hold quite the soft spot for each other. I've already been asked what I meant when I referred to their "bond" in my last update, so I just want to say right now that you won't find me writing any twincest hanky-panky. :P So, just rest easy and enjoy the playful, adorably sweet interactions between Fred and George. (Well, I think they're adorably sweet, anyways.. I suppose I'll have to wait until I get your reviews to let me know if I actually succeeded in portraying them that way) :D But, again, just to be clear - nothing inappropriate goes down between Gred and Forge.

PhoenixPhlames - there is a tiny reference in here to your Human Element story. Let's see if you can find it! Hehe :P (Hint: it's nothing major.. but something that I found vastly amusing towards the beginning of your story.)

I hope you all enjoy this chapter.. I'm not sure it turned out quite the way I wanted it to, but I still think this may be my very favorite so far. But, um.. remember the saying that it always gets worse before it gets better?... Yeah... ;)

Please forgive any typos you find.

Still don't own anything.

So, here goes! A special, one-time-only chapter from Fred Weasley's POV :D

As soon as Hermione was gone, I went to check in on George, again. He was still lying on his bed, though he had managed to partially find his way under the covers and was now lying on his side, snoring very softly against his pillow. I made my way to him, gently disentangled the blanket from his legs and pulled it up to his shoulder. He never stirred and, given how drunk he'd been, I reckoned he'd be totally out of it until the next morning, so I turned out the lights and made my way back to my own bedroom, leaving my twin to slumber peacefully while he could. I had a feeling that Hermione was going to let him have it for the way he'd acted and, remembering how she used to go off on us for testing out our products on the younger students at school, I certainly didn't envy him.

George and I had always rather enjoyed our run-ins with the feisty, bushy-haired prefect, but she was certainly no ray of sunshine when she was angry, and now that George had gone and done something to personally hurt her? I shuddered to think of the long-winded, shrilly-delivered lecture that he would likely face in the morning. Or, perhaps, if her reaction tonight had been any indication of what was in store, she might just look at him with tears in those big, pretty brown eyes of hers and tell him how deeply disappointed she is, and for George, the poor love-sick lad, that would probably be a far worse punishment. Yep - it looked as if Georgie would be in for a rough morning. And I couldn't decide if he deserved it or not. On the one hand, it was very stupid of him to go get so completely plastered by himself. On the other hand, something had clearly happened to George to make him want to go get so completely plastered by himself. He was hurting over something.

I sighed. Not bothering to turn on the light in my room, I pulled off my jeans and socks and collapsed onto my own bed, folding my arms behind me to assist the pillow in cradling my head, but with a string of anxious thoughts constantly looping through my mind, I knew that sleep wouldn't be finding me any time soon. Staring at the dark ceiling, I sighed again. There was no way I could ignore it any longer; something was definitely wrong with my twin. The once high-spirited, cheerful bloke, whom I'd always proudly referred to as my other half, was now something like a shadow of his former self. I roughly rubbed my face with the palms of my hands as I began to check off a mental list of the changes I'd noticed in George's behavior since the night of the final battle, but my thoughts were interrupted by a soft thud coming from the room across the hall - George's room. I removed my hands from my face, pushing myself up onto my elbows and listening intently, and after a brief pause, I heard quiet footsteps moving down the hall, and George's shadowy figure was standing in my doorframe just a second later.

"George? You alright?"

He didn't respond but, as he made his way into my room, I deducted that the sobering potion must have done it's job because his steps were much more confident and well-balanced than they'd been earlier. Still, he stumbled slightly when his knees hit the edge of the mattress, and it was only then, when he reached out to steady himself, that I noticed he had his pillow tucked under one arm.

"George?" I asked again when he continued to stand there.

"Move over," he said, his now impeccably clear words indicating that he was, indeed, sober, and then he began to climb onto the mattress.

"What?" I laughed a little but then quickly scooted over, rolling onto my side and just narrowly avoiding being crushed as George let his body drop onto the bed. "What're you doing?"

George slipped his legs under the blankets and then positioned his pillow, fluffing and then flattening it before turning on his side and lying down. "What's it look like I'm doing?"

Our faces, though supported by our own pillows, were mere inches apart and there was just enough light in the room to allow me to see my twin. George's eyes, identical to my own, stared back at me like a living mirror, only differing in the slightly-off rhythm of our blinking. A slow grin spread across my lips and George perfectly imitated the smile. I made a goofy face, sticking my tongue out to one side, and George did the same. I reached a hand out, ruffling the ginger hair on top of George's head, while an identical hand came up to ruffle the identical hair on my head for a second before we each pulled back, the action still perfectly mirrored. I let out a warm, amused chuckle as I let my hand fall back to the mattress.

"Don't you think we're a bit big to be sleeping in the same bed?" I asked, a gentle humor still evident in my voice. George must not have noticed it, though, because I watched as the lingering smile slipped from his face.

"Um. I just... I didn't..." he stumbled over his words, sounding dejected and maybe even a little embarrassed. "Yeah, I suppose." George sighed and the mattress bounced slightly as he began to get up.

"Oh, come off it, Georgie," I said, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him back down, feeling mildly annoyed that he would think I'd turn him away when he was so obviously seeking comfort. "You really think I'm kicking you out? I just meant that we're literally too big for this bed."

George settled back against his pillow and laughed softly before saying, "The bed's twin-sized, isn't it?"

I snorted. "Good one. But I'm not sure they meant that literally, mate." To prove my point, I tried to move my legs to a more comfortable position and only succeeded in kicking George in the shin.

He hissed in pain. "Ow. Watch it!"

"I told you we don't fit," I said, trying not to laugh. I pulled myself up and reached across George, fumbling in the darkness for my wand which was somewhere on my bedside table.

"Fred." George's voice was muffled as I leaned over him. "Ger'off me!"

Grinning to myself, I purposely (but gently) pressed my elbow into his cheek. "Sorry? What was that?" I had my wand in my hand now, but was thoroughly enjoying irritating my brother. It was for his own good, really; if he was busy being annoyed with me, he couldn't be thinking about whatever it was that had him so down.

I began to pull back, retreating to my side of the bed, but at the last moment I let myself fall on top of him rather roughly, and I couldn't help but laugh at George as our ribs connected, forcing the air out of his lungs in a loud, "Oof." I finally rolled away from him just as he started grumbling and trying to push me off, and then, still laughing, I touched the tip of my wand to the mattress and muttered the incantation to make the bed wider. I could feel the vibrations beneath me as the mattress and frame stretched, and there was a rough sound of wood sliding against wood as the bed grew, forcing the little bedside table out of its way.

I turned to George who was a little further away than he'd been a moment earlier and gave him an innocent smile. "See? Now we won't be kicking and elbowing each other all night."

I began to reach back over George to return my wand to the table, but he yanked it from my hand and placed it on the table himself, mumbling something about not wanting another bruised rib. I laughed again as I repositioned my pillow and laid back down on the bed.

"But, I'm warning you, Georgie," I said in a more serious-sounding tone. "If you start dreaming about being in bed with Granger and you start getting fresh, I'll hex your arse out of here faster than you can say Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs." There was a short pause, during which I could see George raise one eyebrow at me, prompting me to quickly add, "or, you know, a bit faster than that."

George snorted and I chuckled, and then we both fell silent and stayed that way for several long minutes. I could see that George's eyes were closed, but I could tell from the sound of his breathing that he was still awake.

"George?"

"Yeah?"

No need to beat around the bush, I told myself. "Do you want to talk about it?"

There was a long pause and I watched as my twin slowly opened his eyes to look at me. "Do I want to talk about what?"

"Knitting patterns," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Do you want to talk about what's bothering you?" I added, more gently.

George stared at me, blinking a few times before speaking. "Nothing's bothering me."

"Right," I scoffed. "So what are you doing in my bed, again?" We never shared a bed unless one of us was really upset about something. George knew that as well as I did.

"Can't I just want to be close to you, Freddie?" George said in a suddenly syrupy sweet voice as he began to wiggle towards me.

"Ha." I put a hand to his chest, firmly preventing him from pulling me in for a cuddle. "No."

George sighed dramatically and flopped back onto his side of the bed. "Oh, you wound me, brother," he said, and then started laughing.

I rolled my eyes at the dark ceiling. "Come on, George. Don't play with me. I'm worried about you."

George sighed again, though this time it sounded much more serious and exhausted. "There's nothing for you to worry about, Fred. I'm fine."

"Really," I said, dryly, propping myself up on my elbow to get a better look at him. "Then explain to me, please, why someone who rarely drinks suddenly felt the need to go drain the Leaky Cauldron's stores of fire-whiskey all by himself."

George didn't answer.

"And why would you put yourself in a compromising situation with your ex-girlfriend and risk what you're trying to build with Hermione? You're typically a bit smarter than that, Georgie."

At this turn in the conversation, he groaned, reaching up to cover his face with his hands. "I can't believe I was such a prat."

Unfortunately, I couldn't disagree with him. "You realize you started talking, right in front of Granger, about how Katie is still in love with you because you were the 'best shag she ever had,' right?"

"Yes, thanks," George grumbled against his palms. "That sobering potion does a smashing job of un-fogging drunken memories."

I reached out and pulled George's hands away from his face and waited for him to look at me before I spoke again. "You really hurt her."

George sighed and then turned his head to stare up at the ceiling. "You think I don't know that?"

I stayed silent for a moment, carefully considering my next words before finally deciding that George and I had always been completely honest with each other about everything, and I wasn't about to be the one to change that. Still, I tried to speak as gently as possible and I took great care in making sure that I didn't sound accusatory when I voiced my thoughts. "You hurt me, as well."

George's head tilted towards me again and our identical eyes stayed locked as he slowly rolled his entire body onto his side to face me. "What?"

"Tonight, after the wedding," I started to explain. "One minute everything was fine and the next you're staring at me like you don't even recognize me." I paused, hearing a slight hitch in George's breath. "You pushed me away," I continued, my words slow and deliberate, like I was still trying to convince myself that it had really happened. "Why would you do that?"

George shook his head, never breaking eye contact. "I'm sorry."

"I don't need an apology, you git. I just want you to tell me what's going on."

George continued to look at me for several seconds, and I was surprised and pained to see his eyes tearing up. He finally opened his mouth to speak, only to immediately shut it again without ever making a single sound, and then he rolled over onto his other side, turning his back to me and effectively putting an end to the conversation. I just laid there, staring at his back and not knowing whether to feel angry or hurt or even more concerned by his actions.

"Fred?" George asked, his voice low and rough with choked-back emotion.

"Yeah?"

There was a long pause and I held my breath, waiting and hoping that George was finally going to let me in on the secret of why he'd been acting so unlike himself lately.

"You know I love you," he said, and then fell totally silent again.

I let the air out of my lungs and my closed my eyes, fighting back the surge of disappointment I was feeling. Not that I didn't appreciate the sentiment, because I did. It just wasn't the confession I'd been hoping for. "I know. Love you back, George."

******

My eyes popped open as I was jolted awake and I laid there for a moment, waiting for my brain to catch up and explain what had startled me from my sleep, but everything was still and quiet. Then, just as my eyes began to drift shut again, the mattress shook beneath me.

"Nooo," came a loud, broken wail from beside me.

I sprang up in the bed, turning to look down at my twin who was thrashing about, moaning and shouting, though still completely asleep. When I realized he was only having a nightmare, my muscles relaxed considerably, and I reached over, grabbing George by the shoulders and shaking him gently. I knew he'd been having nightmares since the night of the final battle; I heard him almost every night through the thin walls in our flat. I still had them myself, occasionally. It was probably safe to assume that we all still had them.

"George," I whispered.

He whimpered, jerking his head to the side, but still didn't wake up.

"Come on, George."

"Fred," George managed to choke out, though he still didn't wake. A pitiful, weeping noise escaped him, and my throat constricted painfully at the sound of it.

Grasping his shoulders more firmly, I tried again. "George. Wake up."

And he did. His eyes shot open, and he struggled to control his heavy, labored breathing while his gaze darted wildly around the room before finally focusing on me. "Fr-Fred?" he asked, panting.

I let out a relieved sigh and then nodded at him before letting myself fall back onto the bed. I laughed breathlessly. "You scared the bloody hel-"

My words were cut off as George suddenly rolled over and my body tensed in surprise as he tightly wrapped an arm around my midsection and laid his head on my chest. He scooted down just a bit, repositioning himself so that his good ear was pressed firmly against the center of my ribcage, just above my heart. I was too afraid to even speak and George just stayed there, perfectly still for a moment, simply listening to the hard and steady pounding in my chest...

And then he sobbed. It was a shattered, gut-wrenching sob, that immediately caused a sensation like sharp, prickling ice to spread throughout my entire body, and the feeling only intensified as I felt my shirt becoming damp with my twin's tears. I attempted to sit up, but this only made George cry harder and he tightened his arm around me, keeping me pinned in place.

"G-Georgie?" My voice trembled and I struggled in vain to hold back my own tears.

My twin sounded completely and utterly heartbroken, which I supposed was only natural, because that was exactly the way I felt as I laid there and listened to him.

Ahhh! :( So sorry to do that to you guys! I'm not sure if y'all were as depressed by this chapter as I was, but man, it was a bummer to write! To get myself in the right mindset for that last scene, I watched these two specific Fred/George vids on youtube which never fail to make me cry and feel miserable over Fred's death and George's loss of his twin.. I typically refrain from watching those types of videos (since I'm in complete denial and will continue to believe that Fred somehow lived..) but I allowed myself to watch them and wallow in despair so I could write this chapter. I'm not usually affected by my own stories but I was having a hard time not tearing up at the end of this chapter. :(

Sooo... let's all remember - happy endings are coming!! Promise, promise, promise. :D

And, please review. It makes me happy :D And if you do review, please keep in mind that I'm promising to leave you happy at the end! Don't hate me after this chapter, please :( Hehe.