Right below me, six feet down, rests the body of my brother. Not just my brother, but my twin, and even though I saw him in the casket, watched him be lowered into the ground and covered in dirt with magic, I still could not fully believe it. My fingers trace his name on the white gravestone too similar to all the others in this graveyard, my heart breaking all over again, and the horrible thought that it should have been me, no, that it should have been Percy repeatedly coursing through my mind.
The blast, the rubble, Fred's lifeless eyes while Percy's still held life... Horror filled them, but at least emotion still showed. They were so close to each other, so close that they could have so easily been switched… Percy had abandoned the family, something Fred never purposely would have done, and yet I lost him just the same.
I'd trade one brother for another in a heartbeat. It makes me feel like a monster, and yet I can't seem to make the thought stop.
Mum can't even look at me now. None of them can. It's been ten days and she still turns away crying when I draw near. I know she needs time, but it's not fair. She couldn't even tell us apart, only barely getting us right once I lost my ear. After all these years of caring for us, she still doesn't know that Fred's eyes are a shade paler, I am a hair taller, his smile lifts up higher on the right side whereas mine lifts up on the left. She doesn't realize Fred is the more funny one between us, the one better with magic and inventing our wares, how he is the one who makes her, and me, laugh and smile the most… and I still can't come to terms with the fact that what once is now… was. He's gone, and it's to somewhere I can't follow. Not yet. Part of me wants to, but I know my family can't lose another son so soon. What they don't understand is that I lost my other half, my better half. In their grief and pain they are leaving me on my own. It's crippling.
I haven't reopened our joke shop. I don't know if I can, but I have to. Besides being our… my livelihood, it's the best place for remembering him. Each product on the shelves comes with its own memory of us thinking it up, experimenting, and ultimately creating it in its sellable version. It was our dream, our business, our passion. Somehow I'm going to have to make it solely mine. The day after he died I'd rushed to the shop, screaming his name.
Fred, Fred!
Surely he'd become a ghost and was haunting his favorite place. He had to be. He wouldn't leave me alone like this, I'd thought. I'd expected him to appear behind a shelf, maybe setting off some of our Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, but there was nothing.
Fred, this isn't funny anymore! Come out!
The only sounds that greeted me were my own voice echoing his name back at me like knives, and my sobs.
Fred, no… don't leave me for good...
He wasn't and isn't there. It's just an empty building, a shell of a business to match my shell of a man.
Mum and Dad had wanted him buried on the grounds of the Burrow, but I'd insisted he was buried in the plot in a wizarding graveyard near Diagon Alley we'd bought on a whim at the start of the second Wizarding War. There's room enough for him, me, and our families, something he'll never have now. Maybe I won't either. A family means happiness, and I don't think I'll ever be happy again, even if he would have wanted me to.
There's a crunching of twigs from behind me. I don't turn to look, nor do my eyes leave Fred's name when I feel a hand on my shoulder. Whoever it is stays still for a few moments, commiserating with me, I like to think, before their voice breaks the silence, "You've been standing here all day. Come on. Let's go get some food and maybe a drink." Harry's about the one person I think I can stand right now, so I'm glad it's him, even if I shake my head at his words. He's the only one who could tell us apart every single time.
"I'm not hungry." I slowly spin to face him, not bothering to hide my puffy eyes. There's no shame in crying, or if there is, I'm past feeling shame for being devastated. He's dressed similar to me, Muggle jeans and a t-shirt, though his is a bright yellow whereas mine is a faded gray. It's warm enough to finally be without a jumper, and the slight breeze from the wind would be pleasant if life was good.
His green eyes meet my brown ones and a small sigh escapes his lips. "You've not been hungry in days. Come on. Please come eat a little?"
He doesn't invoke Fred's name to get me to do things, and I am eternally grateful for that. The few times my mum has spoken to me lately has been to tell me things that Fred would have done, or comment about how since I lived and Fred didn't, I need to make the most of it. I don't think she's being malicious on purpose, but every time she says something like it I want to slap her across the face. If it wasn't for the fact I'm afraid of what could happen if I'm all alone lately, I would go back to living at the flat above the shop. I haven't returned since Fred died, and instead have been staying with my family, even if they like to pretend I am not there most of the time.
"Where to?" I don't want to go, but he's right. I should eat something, even if I really don't feel like it.
Harry's hand finally leaves my shoulder after giving it what I assume is supposed to be a comforting squeeze. "My place. You want me to apparate you there?"
I shake my head and he nods before disappearing from my sight. A moment later, and the familiar feeling of being squeezed, I find myself standing in the middle of Harry's flat. It's a small one he bought just so he could be alone, and it doesn't have much except a bed in his room, a bed in the spare room, and a dining table with chairs in the kitchen. The blue paint is peeling from the walls, and there's a faint musty smell to the place. Harry could buy something so much better, but he's waiting for the world to heal more before truly finding a place, or so he says. He's already in the kitchen when I make my way in there, dropping into one of the wooden chairs.
"I don't have much, I'm afraid. I don't like going to the store, even the Muggle ones. Witches and wizards follow me everywhere." I've seen it the few times we've been out in public together. Most of them praise and thank him, but a few blame him for the deaths of their family members. I know he takes it to heart, and though I've tried to tell him it's not his fault, I know he blames himself for Fred, too.
"Whatever you have is perfectly fine, thank you." He's been trying to sound chipper, but my voice still sounds hollow. If he notices, which I'm sure he does, he doesn't comment on it.
Harry nods, going silent as he throws something together. A few minutes later and a PB&J sandwich is before me, as is a glass of water. "I thought about giving you something stronger, but it's still a little early in the day for that, I think."
"It's never too early for that anymore," I mutter under my breath. The days I don't leave the room Fred and I used to share at the Burrow I've spent drinking, trying to make the pain go away. It doesn't work. I really should move, and Harry keeps offering to let me have the spare bedroom. "Can I move in? Is that offer still on the table? It's too hard being there, but I can't go home."
He sits across the table from me and waits until I take a bite prior to replying, "Of course."
The peanut butter sticks to the roof of my mouth, the combination with the jelly and bread is tasteless, like ash. I gulp it down with a drink of the water. "Thanks." It's silent for longer than is comfortable and I finish the sandwich as Harry watches me.
I try again. "I'm thinking of reopening the shop. I… I don't know if it'll help. Might make everything worse, but people need a reason to laugh, you know? Voldemort is gone, Fred is..." my throat tightens, forcing me to pause, and I cough to try and clear it. Harry looks at me with sympathy, which only makes it worse. "Fred is gone," I choke out, "but people need to see his products, remember how amazing he was. It's like a memorial to him, my own personal one, not like that pretty but cold black tower at Hogwarts with everyone's names on it. The Ministry might think the somberness is necessary for the war, but that's not who Fred is."
'Was,' I correct myself silently. I'm truly never going to get used to that.
"Sounds brilliant, mate. If you need help, I'm in the market for a job." Harry smiles, and I attempt to mirror it. I'm sure it looks flat.
"Weren't you going to go into the Auror program?"
His smile falters just a bit, and he reaches a hand to scratch the back of his head. "Yeah, but I think I need a break from fighting dark wizards. Something more lighthearted, like a joke shop, sounds more appealing right now."
I nod. "You'll bring in good business, too, I suppose. There was a new product Fred wanted to unveil before... well, you know."
"A new product?"
It's Fred's pride and joy. Or, was, and there's something akin to excitement mixed with my misery as I think about it. "Remember that swamp we left for Umbridge to deal with before we took off from Hogwarts our final year?" I don't wait for him to acknowledge before I continue, "Well, it was Fred's favorite invention of all, and he wanted to tinker with it. Now we've got it so that instead of just being an extremely difficult swamp to remove, it now evolves into different parts of nature when you try to vanish it. My favorite is the desert, but Fred's is the volcano. It can't actually hurt anyone, but it does leave anyone who comes into contact with the lava feeling extremely confused. The first time I touched it I wandered around for hours spouting nonsense. Honestly, the amount of work he has put into it is incredible! He did it all himself, too, while I was working on some other projects. Most we do as a team, but that one, that one he did all himself, and I was so proud." I still am proud, even if it hurts to think about too much.
"Sounds amazing. I'm sure people will love it. What are you going to call it?"
I shrug. "Fred named it. I'll have to go through the paperwork to find it, but I'll name it what he wanted. I can't imagine naming it anything else."
He nods. "That really was fantastic. I don't think I'd ever seen Umbridge that angry, except maybe when she caught me sneaking into her chambers. You guys were the heroes of the whole school. I think McGonagall even enjoyed it."
"She did. She mentioned it at the funeral." It had been one of the nicest parts of the second worst day of my life.
"Mr. Weasley, you have my deepest condolences." McGonagall's voice interrupted my thoughts. Everyone else seemed to have returned home or to their lives, Fred now in the ground and the funeral over. The little church situated in the graveyard was my escape. No one else had come in, and though the religion held no appeal to me, there was something almost consoling about the high noon sun streaming through the stained glass windows depicting scenes from the Bible. I'd even managed to quell my tears for the time being. I was surprised anyone had come looking for me and I turned to look at her, silent.
She sat beside me before continuing, "You both were quite the pair in your school days. Real terrors to handle sometimes, but I never doubted you two would make something of yourselves. That portable swamp of yours was a nightmare. Clever, though. I haven't seen a finer bit of joke magic in many years."
Those words broke down my walls. Tears flooded my cheeks. "It was his idea, you know. To leave it as a parting gift. We'd never fully tested it out before, but it worked so well from what I've been told. It was amazing. He is... was.. amazing."
McGonagall's arms came around me and I cried into her shoulder. Her hug was more soothing than my mother's had been since everything had fallen apart. "Oh George, he was, and so are you."
She held me and let me cry until night had fallen.
I sigh, shaking my head free of the memory. "Anyway, I think it's time for some sleep. You sure you're okay with me staying here?"
Harry laughs and I realize just how much I've missed the sounds of people being happy. That's what Fred and I dedicated our lives to. It really was time to reopen the shop. "Of course I'm okay with it, roomie. I'll owl your parents. Get to bed."
I rise with a grateful nod, reaching out to clasp Harry's shoulder. "Thank you. Really." He returns my nod and I turn, leaving the room to head down the hallway to the spare bedroom. Sleep genuinely did sound good.
Harry turned out to be extremely useful in getting Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes back into action. Considering our stunt with U-No-Poo and Voldemort, the shop had fared well during the war. Most of our products were moved to various locations when we'd gone into hiding, and the interior was easy to fix with a few flicks of our wands and mutterings of "Reparo." Hermione had come to help, too, but none of my family did. That hurt at first, but then turned out to be a relief. Harry and Hermione had done their best to make me smile, even pulling a small number of pranks, and two weeks after we started both the store and my heart felt lighter.
Today is the reopening, and I'm nervous. My heart is beating faster than normal and my fingers keep grasping at my wand, my robes, small things in sight so that they aren't empty. Holding something is calming somehow. The shop is full of our wares, the brilliant purple of the walls making the room look cheerful. It's such a tall building, and I remember now why we loved it so much when we bought it. I've charmed the staircases to move like the ones at Hogwarts. The smell of sweets like the Canary Creams and Skiving Snackboxes fill my nose. We've set off some Aviamobiles around the room, the little flying cars, careful not to knock boxes of goods like Fanged Frisbees and Trick Wands off their shelves. Right near the door is a huge display of our Portable Swamps, renamed Destination Combination, and I just know they'll sell out by the end of the day.
Hermione stands by the register, having offered to run it for me today. Harry is by the door, waiting for my signal to open it. I can see the line waiting to get in. People have smiles on their faces and I force one onto mine. I tap my wand against my throat, muttering the modified Sonorous charm, and begin my speech for those waiting outside.
"Hello, everyone. Thank you for coming out today. As we rebuild our society, we need to find the ability to laugh again. That's what my brother and I aimed for when we started this shop, and in reopening, his memory lives on in each laugh our products provide. Fred would have wanted this to be a joyous day, and with that in mind, I welcome you all inside!" I end the spell and Harry opens the door. People rush inside and the chaos begins. I alternate between helping Harry explain products and catching Hermione up on the register. Though it shouldn't surprise me that we make such a great team, it does, though no one can make as great a team as Fred and I did. It's such a fast-paced environment that I can't believe it when it's time to close.
Many customers expressed their condolences throughout the day, and even more stopped to tell me their favorite story about Fred or the products we'd sold them in the past. I didn't realize just how much I'd needed that. Fred would have been pleased, and that pleases me. As the last customer exits the store, I leave Harry and Hermione to lock up and finish the till. There's a gift for me in the back, or so they've told me, and I head to the office, unlocking the door with a wave of my wand.
The two desks inside are the same as they were before the war, mine more organized whereas Fred's is a mess. My papers are at least in piles, but his are scattered everywhere. Finding anything takes at least thirty minutes. I should organize it, but I think I'll leave it the way it is for a while longer. In the back left corner of the room there's two red plush chairs next to a fireplace, our place where we'd sit and throw ideas back and forth over a glass of Firewhisky.
There's something different about that area now though, something that makes my eyes tear up. Above the fireplace is a painting of Fred. He's wearing jeans and one of those sweaters Mum always knits for us, his hair a mess, and he's smiling at me, beckoning for me to come over.
I do, legs shaking. I sink down into my chair before him, eyes never leaving his face. "I've missed you." There's tears falling down my cheeks. I know it's not really him, but I know how our paintings work. It's going to be exactly like him. They say the essence of a person lives on after they are gone in the places they frequented, the objects they held dear, and Harry and Hermione must have found something with enough of it to bring to a painter to make this gift. I know it had to be incredibly expensive given the process, and I've never been more grateful for them in my life.
"I heard the joke shop did amazing today! You should put another portrait up in the store so I can check in on it!" It's his voice, and my tears fall harder. "Oh George, don't cry! I know I was always the better looking twin, but there's no reason to cry about it!" His teasing words are quickly followed by a softer, " I've missed you too."
Even though I'm thankful for this gift, I can't stop my sobs. I ignore his joke. "Fred! Fred! I don't know how to do this without you! I can't do this without you!"
His painting sits cross-legged as close to the surface as it can get. "You can do this, George. You've always been the stronger twin. I'm still here for you, even if it's in a different way. And the real me is looking down on you, so incredibly proud of what you've done today. He loves you. I love you."
"I love you too." I don't feel like the stronger twin, but the way he says it leaves no room for arguing. "Fred?"
"Yes, George?"
"Every time I look at Percy..."
He cuts me off, finishing my sentence just like we used to do to each other all the time, "... you think it should have been him, not me. I know. But you love Percy, and he loves you, even if he is a stuck-up prat, forever the goody two shoes. You don't really want to trade us. You just wish nobody had died. It's okay, George. It's all going to be okay. Maybe you should sit down and talk to him about it, though I wouldn't exactly tell him you think about trading us. Just talk about my death. He's hurting, too. They all are."
"They don't want to see me right now. I remind them of you."
His smile turns sad. "I know, but you guys will make it through in time. I promise. Harry and Hermione love you too."
"I know. Those two are the reason this place is up and running right now."
"Don't count yourself out. You've done a lot of work yourself, and I know you'll keep working just as hard."
Fred's words warm me just a little. We fall silent, just staring at each other. Even though I see him daily while looking in the mirror, I am not him, and he was not me. To see him as he truly was is the best present anyone has given me.
"Hey, Fred?" I break the silence.
"Yes, George?"
I turn my head to show him the left side, pointing to where my ear once was. "I'm feeling holey better."
It's the first joke I've made since his passing, and his laughter is a balm to my still broken heart. "That's my George."