Takes places after the Battle of Hogwarts. Just felt like writing... Hope you like it!
George gently pushed the shop door open, holding his breath as the shopkeeper's bell tinkled. The sound cut through the still air, making him jump. He stood in the doorway for several long minutes, unable to take the first step over the threshold.
It had been six months. Six long months had passed, and he hadn't had the strength to return here until now. He knew it would only remind him of … him, and his heart just wasn't in it anymore. His heart wasn't in anything anymore.
He stepped inside and let the door close behind him. Dust moats swirled around in the sunlight that shined through the high, shop windows. George took one deep, steading breath and closed his eyes.
He wasn't sure, exactly, what he was doing back here. He didn't really intend to open the shop again – he knew he couldn't handle the business on his own and he had never even entertained the idea of looking for a new partner. He supposed it would be good to check on the merchandise – to make sure the store hadn't been ransacked – but, he didn't really care. He would have given it all away if it meant …
No, he thought to himself. No, he needed to stop that. Nothing was bringing him back, no matter how much he wished it. He had to move on. He would move on. There was no use getting emotional anymore.
He took another step inside, but as he did so, a sudden gust of wind engulfed him, whipping his robes all around. George gasped and looked around as he heard someone roaring with laughter.
"Who's there?" he called, struggling to find his wand in his tangled robes. "Who's there?" he shouted, again.
Just then, he felt something like a hand grasp his trousers. He looked down just in time to see two bodiless hands yank his pants down to his ankles. George gave a shocked cry and bent over to pull his pants back up. But as soon as he stooped down, something, or someone, kicked him hard on his backside, making him fall flat on his face.
The laughing voice grew louder. George stumbled stupidly as he tried to get to his feet. "What the bloody hell – "
"I see London, I see France!" sang the voice, merrily.
George froze. He knew that voice – knew it better than he knew his own – even after all this time. "Fred?" he said, a grin spreading across his face.
"I see thieving underpants!" Fred's voice sang.
The wind whipped George around so that he was facing the front door of the shop. The invisible foot that had kicked him before gave him another sharp boot in the rear end, throwing him headlong into the door and out onto the cobblestone street of Diagon Alley. The shop door slammed behind him.
George rolled over onto his back, his pants still down around his ankles, and doubled over with laughter. He laughed and laughed, not caring that passersby were staring. It wasn't until someone shouted at him, "Oy! What's the matter with you boy? Stop that bloody racket!" that he finally got to his feet, wiping tears from his face.
He couldn't remember the last time he had laughed like that. His cheeks hurt from it. Of course, he knew that Fred had placed a charm on the shop to keep people out when it was closed, but he had completely forgotten about it in his time away. He chortled again. Leave it to Freddie to make him laugh even after he was gone.
With a hopeful smile, George flipped the Closed sign to Open.