A/N:

To my dear readers,

Chapter Five is currently in the works. I have had some rather unfortunate things of my own happen since this was last updated, all of which (in combination with my studies at the local university) have kept me from writing. However, I've been listening to "Deathly Hallows" in between classes and realized that even though I'm not really big in the fanfic scene anymore… I can't abandon Fred and George. How many laughs have they given me? How many tears have I shed for both of them?

The least I can do is finish this.

I plan to write a fifth chapter and go back to flesh out the older chapters and make them a bit better and longer. I suspect there will be at least… hmm… five more chapters of this fic, because one has to remember it is not only George that Fred is going to have to let go of (and not just Weasleys!). I want to do this story justice, damnit.

And also, I've been writing snippets of George's twin story to this one. I also have to admit that I am an adamant anti George/Angelina shipper, so there may be a story for that sometime. I like to think of George with Alicia, Katie, or Verity. Angelina, though? The thought makes me a bit queasy (hello mental problems for both parties!).

I digress.

I want to finish all of my works starring Fred and George, and hopefully add one or two more. The chapters will be slow to appear (though not nearly as slow as this pending one has been!), but I *have* to do this. For me. For Fred. For George.

Now, so this chapter won't get deleted for having no "story content"…

In life, Fred had considered himself to be perfectly in tune with George. They were, as the two had often joked, two parts of one soul. Every little thought George had was clearly written in the air for Fred to read, each little word heard in his mind before George spoke it. Each dream that danced through George's slumber was often startlingly similar to Fred's. Sentences finished for one another, thoughts exchanged silently, dreams shared…

But now, sitting here on the floor next to his shattered twin, Fred could not understand him.

There had been the time when the twins had fought over leaving Hogwarts—oh yes, they had fought. It had been a brief thing, shouting about abandoning and hating Umbridge and other trivial aspects. Yet, George had been quite adamant, at least for a moment, that leaving was the wrong thing to do. How could they abandon their brother and sister? Harry? Lee? Katie? He had yelled at Fred, startling several paintings to life, until whatever magic it was that coursed between the twins took hold and brought him around. The fight had lasted all of two minutes.

Fred understood that.

There had been a night, so long ago now, when Ginny had disappeared. They had feared the worst. Surely there was no escape from the Chamber of Secrets? Fred and George had remained quiet in the common room, but they both wept that night. George had been more audible than Fred, and Fred remembered that George hadn't cared who heard him. His grief had consumed him and it was for the world to see.

Fred understood that, too.

Fred had known George to yell and to cry. But… to break things?

As George struggled to calm himself, to stop shaking with emotion, Fred glanced around the room. The paper littering the floor had once been pages of The Daily Prophet. Fred moved away from George, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at the tiny print. He noticed half of his own face looking back at him, laughing, from one page that was covered with shreds of another. He reached down and tried to move the paper, but to no avail. He looked to James.

James looked to the window and then sighed. A breeze no stronger than James' sigh flitted through the open window and blew away the shreds of paper covering Fred's interest. George sniffled and rose shakily, closed the window, and then fell back into a sitting position with a blank look on his face. Fred looked back to the paper on the floor.

"ONE HALF OF WEASLEY WONDER TWINS LOSES LIFE IN HOGWARTS BATTLE

"Frederick Weasley, identical twin to George Weasley, was amongst the deceased at Hogwarts following a battle between Harry Potter and You-Know-Who last week. The young man, Fred to his friends and family, was one of the owners of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, a popular shop in Diagon Alley and the only one that continued to make a profit during the height of the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named fright. Mr. Weasley was a boisterous young man who loved life and all it had to offer.

" 'My brother was a bit of a card,' George Weasley wrote The Daily Prophet, citing his desire to mourn in private as the reason for not interviewing in person. 'He was an excellent wizard, much smarter than many gave him credit for. More than anything, though, he was my brother. I love him and I miss him very much.'

"This reporter was able to reach Harry Potter for comment, a feat nearly impossible at this time. While Mr. Potter expressed his sorrow over the deaths of many of his friends, he expressed himself more vividly while speaking of Fred. 'Fred was like a brother to me and I wish I could have done something to save him. The Weasleys mean the world to me—they're my family now—and Fred was part of that. It was like losing a brother.'

"Fred was the son of Arthur and Molly Weasley, who refused to comment. He was also the brother of William Weasley, Charles Weasley, Percival Weasley, George Weasley, Ronald Weasley, and Ginevra Weasley. Percival, or Percy, Weasley, left us with this remark about his late brother: 'I never understood Fred. He and I were so different. I lost sight of a lot of things for a while, and he was one of them. When I came back, I hoped maybe we could find each other again. I… I want the world to know that Fred died laughing.'

"Mr. Weasley was nineteen years old at the time of his death. He was caught off-guard during an explosion that left him buried in stone rubble. His funeral is closed to the public and will be held at the residence of his parents."

Fred looked up at George, who had his head in his hands.

A loud crack made both Weasleys look up. Their dad had appeared on top of the couch, looking quite solemn. He was dressed in somber black robes, but when he sat down and crossed his ankles, Fred noticed the loudly colored socks he had gifted his dad when he was fifteen years old. George took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, shuddering as he did.

"I can't do it, dad. I can't go and… see him like that."

Arthur sniffled and a tear dripped down his face. "I know it's hard, George, especially for you. But think of how you'll feel if you don't go."

George broke down into sobs then, and Arthur slowly crossed the room to him, taking a seat beside him and putting an arm around him. George collapsed into his father's chest and let out a guttural noise.

"Why did it have to be Fred?" George demanded of nobody in particular.

"Nobody knows, son."

The room was filled with George's sounds of grief and Arthur cried silently beside him, tears dripping into George's hair. Fred sat at their feet, wishing he could add his own tears to the mix. After nearly ten minutes, Arthur steeled himself and looked down at his damaged son.

"We best be going now, George. It's almost time."

George had lost all will to fight, and so stood beside his father, holding onto his arm for the reason, Fred surmised, that he did not trust himself to apparate without splinching himself. With a crack, the two Weasleys vanished.

Fred looked around the flat again.