Hello again! I have finished my second year of university so now I have so much time to write! I promise to write more over my summer holidays! Please enjoy this chapter. There's quite a lot of angst. It's fairly short compared to some of my other chapters, but there's a longer one coming, I promise! xx


Apologies

"I like what you've done to the place," Charlie nodded in appreciation at the small apartment.

"Angie made a few changes." George smiled, pointing to the large, brown couch in the middle of the room that was covered in a display of brightly coloured cushions. New curtains, a vibrant purple, hung from the windows, giving the place a warm and secluded feel. Charlie laughed at the subtle hints that a woman was now living in the flat. Although he hadn't seen it before Angelina moved in, he knew his brother's wouldn't have opted for bright purple curtains.

"Want anything to drink," George offered. "I think I've got some mead lying about."

"Sure. Whatever you have."

George bent to look in a few of the lower cupboards underneath the kitchen counter and retrieved a dusty bottle of mead. He uncorked the lid and sniffed it.

"I think Lee gave me this last year sometime," he said as he pour a generous amount of the golden liquid into two glasses. "Can't remember what for."

He handed Charlie a glass and the two brother's clinked them together, "Cheers," and took a large gulp each.

"Business going well?"

"Yeah," George nodded. "We increased our sales this year by 16.7%, which isn't too bad for a small business like ours. We're thinking of buying Zonkos and expanding into more of a chain. Our clientele are mainly Hogwarts students, so a branch in Hogsmeade would definitely be worth it."

Charlie nodded and took another sip of his drink.

"How about you? How's Romania?"

"Same as ever," Charlie shrugged. "I've been promoted. You're looking at the new Senior Carer of the Romanian Dragon Reserve." He puffed up his chest proudly, large grin on his face.

George smiled. "Good on you," he congratulated him. "It's about time you got promoted. You've been there…?"

"Just over 8 years," Charlie supplied.

"Merlin! It's been that long?" George had only been twelve when Charlie had graduated Hogwarts and moved to Romania to work on the dragon reserve. Since then, his brother had only come home at Christmas time to spend a week or so with the family before returning. It suddenly hit George that he had only seen Charlie once a year since he graduated. He also realised that this was the first time he had conversed with his brother alone. Usually, it was a large family discussion, where his mother interrogated him and fussed over the newest burn scar he'd received. The two of them had never really… talked. Not properly, anyway.

Charlie shrugged and sat back, shifting some cushions out of the way to make more room. As he slowly surveyed the room, his eyes fixed upon a closed door. At first, he thought it was the loo, but then he remembered that the bathroom was next to George's bedroom. Putting two and two together, he turned back to George, whose solemn face showed that he had saw where Charlie was looking.

"Is that - ?"

George nodded slowly.

"May I - ?"

He hesitated, before nodding again. Charlie put his drink down and approached the room slowly. As he reached out his hand to grasp the doorknob, he paused. He was unsure of what he would find. A part of him felt as though he was intruding on something very private and personal. Another part of him felt uncomfortably sad. George's eyes followed his movements gravely, but he didn't move from where he was sitting. He was frozen in place, as he watched his older brother enter the bedroom of his dead twin.

The first thing Charlie noticed when he opened the door was the staleness of the air. It was hot and stuffy, and there was a scent of dust lingering in the air. He wondered if George had kept the door shut since his twin had died, for it certainly didn't look as though it had been touched. His eyes slowly surveyed the room, taking in the broomstick propped up against the wall in the corner, the box of Fanged Frisbees resting atop the bedside table, the Montrose Magpies poster above the bedhead, the navy Weasley jumper hanging over back of a chair facing the window and the stash of Fireworks hidden underneath the bed. The room was such an adequate representation of Fred, even the way the duvet had been roughly pulled over the crumpled sheets in that casual, lazy manner that was so familiar to Charlie. He took cautious steps further into the room and his gaze fell on the dresser. There, smiling within a plain frame, were Fred and George. They looked quite a lot younger there, perhaps fifteen, and they were dressed in their Gryffindor Beater uniforms. Each held a bat in their hands and their arms were around each other, laughing and throwing their heads back. It was such an innocent photo – just a joyful memory – that Charlie felt his heart clench painfully inside his chest at the sight. He heard a sniff, and turned around to see George standing in the doorway, his blue eyes glistening with tears. A few of them leaked out of the corners and slid silently down his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose.

"Lee took that," he said softly, voice cracking as he choked back tears. "Fifth year. I think we'd just made the semi-finals or something."

Charlie put the photo down before he became a bubbling mess. "I'm sorry," he muttered, keeping his head towards the ground.

"S'not your fault," George countered immediately, but Charlie shook his head.

"I'm sorry I ran out on you. On Fred. On Mum. On all of you. I didn't realise how much I'd miss. If I'd known…" he broke off and sank down on Fred's bed, burying his head in his hands. "I just wish I'd gotten to know him better." Charlie looked up and met George's eyes. His expression was the most serious George had ever seen him wear. "Known both of you better. And Ron and Ginny as well."

George sat down beside him, still silent. He didn't know what to say, because everything Charlie said was true. He had missed a lot. He'd missed Ginny starting her first day of Hogwarts. He'd missed Ron becoming a prefect. He'd missed the opening of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"I was young – selfish. I saw an opportunity to get out and prove myself, to chase my dreams – so I took it. I didn't realise what I was leaving behind."

George frowned. "Stop," he growled. "You can't just come back here after years and expect to win us over with flimsy apologies!"

Charlie paused and furrowed his eyebrows. "Well, what else am I meant to say?"

George sighed and stood up. "You have no idea what it did to our family. I understand you had your job, but even Bill managed to visit more than you ever did."

"Look, I said I was sorry about that," Charlie began, his voice rising but George cut him off.

"Eight years, Charlie. Eight years you were gone! You think a simple 'sorry' is meant to make up for the last eight years."

At this, Charlie got to his feet and threw his hands in the air incredulously. "I couldn't leave!" he protested. "You don't understand. For most of those years I was only an intern! I had terrible hours and they never gave me holidays!"

"What about Christmas?" George roared. "You weren't an intern then, yet you still didn't show. We needed you; Mum needed you here and you left her!"

"I couldn't leave! The egg had just hatched!"

"YOU'RE BROTHER HAD JUST DIED, YOU SELFISH BASTARD!" George couldn't contain himself any longer. His unresolved anger at his older brother had resurfaced and he exploded with rage. "FRED HAD DIED AND WE NEEDED YOU AT HOME!"

"I told you – "

George punched him in the side of the face before he could continue his sentence. Charlie groan in pain and stumbled backwards a few paces, clutching his cheek. He glared at George, whose face had turned red with rage.

"I didn't know dragons were more important than family," he hissed.

Charlie lunged at him with a snarl and the two of them fell to the floor, kicking and punching at any piece of flesh they could find. The sound of their tussle echoed downstairs and soon, Ron burst into the room, horrified to find both of his brothers in a brawl. Without thinking, he reached in between them and pulled George off Charlie, slamming him into the wall by the collar of his shirt.

"What the bloody hell is going on here?" Ron shouted, turning his head towards Charlie, who had gotten to his feet and was glaring across the room.

"He attacked me!" Charlie glowered.

"You abandoned us!" George yelled, though his speech was impaired by his broken nose and bleeding mouth "You never cared about Fred. You just ran away because you couldn't face it. You're a coward!"

"SHUT UP!" roared Ron, slamming George back into the wall again. "Have you gone mad?"

"Look, Ron, it's not – " Charlie interrupted.

"And you!" he shouted at his other brother. "What is wrong with the lot of you? You're meant to be brothers!"

George looked at the ground, sheepishly, as a silence ensued among the three of them. "What would Mum think if she saw you behaving like this? She'd be in a right state – her two sons laying it in to each other. Pull yourselves together, for fuck's sake!"

Ron sighed and released George, running a hand through his hair. He hadn't anticipated this. Something was seriously wrong with George. His aggressive behaviour, his lashing out – Ron was seriously worried for him. He turned to Charlie.

"Look, could you leave us alone for a moment? Go and see Angelina downstairs, she'll help you clean up."

Charlie nodded and slowly left the room. As he passed Ron, he patted him on the shoulder and sighed. "I'm really sorry," he muttered. "Truly, I am."

Ron nodded and then shut the door behind him. George had slumped to the floor, blood dripping down his chin onto his shirt, and his right eye was puffy and red.

"What was that about?" Ron asked after a while.

"I don't know," George admitted. "Something came over me and I – " he broke off and buried his head in his hands. His body shook with violent sobs. "I just snapped."

Ron sat beside his brother; it was all he could think to do. He wasn't Hermione. He wasn't good at handling things like this. Hermione always knew what to say to make things better, but Ron? Words weren't his friend. They failed him almost every time and he just ended up looking like a complete arse. So he just sat, in silence, waiting for George to get a hold of his emotions. After a few moments, he seemed to calm down, and soon his breathing began to slow with more even, deep breaths.

"I'm sorry."

Ron sighed. "George. I… I think you need to see someone."

George looked up in shock. "What?"

"I think you should see someone. You're not coping. It's not good for you."

"Fuck, not you too," George grumbled. "Angie's been on my case about seeing a Healer for months."

"Well, I agree with her," Ron encouraged.

"I'm not seeing a fucking Healer. I'm not crazy."

"I never said you were."

"She thinks I'm a nut job. You both do, don't you?" His temper began to rise and Ron feared that he might go into another fit of rage.

"No one thinks you're a nut job," Ron assured his brother. "We're just worried about you. All these outbursts – they're not good for you. They're affecting your relationships."

George rolled his eyes. "So I got a little angry when my brother shows up after abandoning us – "

"Charlie didn't abandon us," Ron reminded him, sternly. "He chose to do something he loved and chased his dreams. He tried his best to visit. But he didn't abandon us. Percy abandoned us, and you had no trouble forgiving him."

"Yeah – that was before – " George stuttered, his words failing him. Tears formed in his blue eyes and he choked them back, refusing to cry again.

"George," Ron reached out to touch his brother's shoulder. "It's not Charlie's fault Fred is dead." He said the words softly, as though he could hardly bear to utter them himself. But he needed to be strong. For George.

"I know," George whispered softly. "Of course it's not his fault." He stood up and walked towards the door. "I should apologise to him."

"George."

He turned.

"It's not your fault either.

George nodded and went downstairs.


Please read and review! :) xx