I have to tell you all that I may not be able to update next week, as I am a band geek and have band camp. I tried to write two this week, but that didn't really work out. Hopefully I'll have another chapter for you all sooner than that, but if not, I'm sorry. Okay, on with this chapter!

Disclaimer: Writing these things bother me almost as much as the fact that I will never own Harry Potter.

"Frederick Joseph Weasley!" Molly yelled up the stairs to her son. " Get back down here right now!"

"You can't tell me what to do, Mum. You might be able to banish George, but if you think I'm going to listen to a bloody word you say, you've got another thing coming!" Fred shot back. He heard Molly start to say something else, but be cut off by Arthur. He stormed up the stairs on the way to his room. Before he could reach the safe haven of his bed, Ginny cut him off.

"What's happened?" She asked, eyes wide.

"Mum found out. She…she caught us. Merlin, I'm so fucking stupid. George said we shouldn't…I should have listened. This is all my fault!" Fred said, punching the wall he was now leaning his arms against, burying his face in them. His voice dripped in anguish as he spoke.

"What did she do?" Ginny said, putting a hand tentatively on her brother's shoulder. She wanted to make him feel better, make everything okay again. He looked like he was about to cry. She had never seen Fred cry, and that scared her a little.

"She sent George away." Fred said in a broken voice, and his shoulders shook. Ginny cringed.

"Where?" She whispered.

"I dunno, Ginny, I dunno!" Fred sobbed, turning to look at her, his eyes as wide as hers and red. He clutched at his hair. "I let him down, I told him everything would be fine. I told him I would make sure it was, and look what I've done. He's somewhere out lost in the cold, alone. Without me. This is all my fault."

Ginny launched herself forward and seized Fred around the waist. "No, no it's not your fault, and I know George doesn't think that. Mum'll get over it and feel bad eventually. I'm sure she didn't send George to someplace too awful. It'll…it'll all be okay. You'll see."

"I don't know, Gin." Fred said, rubbing her back, thankful for the effort in trying to console him. At least he knew everyone in his family didn't hate him.

As soon as the thought crossed Fred's mind, a door in the hallway opened, and another red haired boy came out. "My God, Fred!" Ron said nastily, snatching Ginny out of his embrace. "What're you trying to do now, get Ginny to do it with you?"

"What?" Fred spat.

"Ron, no. Give it a rest, come on!" Ginny said to him, kicking at him as he pulled her away. "Sorry, Fred!" She yelled as he dragged her into her room.

"You're disgusting." Ron said venomously.

"Could say the same about you. When's the last time you showered? First year?" Fred said quietly, trying weakly to lighten the situation.

"Shut up, you fag. I don't need to listen to you make fun of me. Not anymore, not now that you aren't the infamous and flawless Fred and George that no one can find anything wrong with now. Now you're just homos, the both of you." Ron said before slamming the door to his room in Fred's face.

Fred moaned quietly as he walked the rest of the way to what used to be his and George's room. Once inside, he cast a locking charm on the door and sat down on the floor in the middle of the room, cross legged. What was he going to do? He needed to find George, but he couldn't think of any way to accomplish that. He didn't have an owl of his own, and there was no way anyone in his family was going to let him use theirs. He vaguely wondered when Harry would be coming for the holidays. He always did, but this year he was going to Hermione's for the fist few days of break. Fred cursed, Harry would have let him use Hedwig. He couldn't let George just wander around out there. There were dark wizards out there. Voldemort was out there for God's sake. He shivered at the thought of his brother getting attacked by a Death Eater and bit the inside of his lip a little too hard. He let himself flop back against the cold wooden floor and stayed there, not caring how uncomfortable it was. He stared at the ceiling as though it held the answer to finding his brother until he fell asleep.

He awoke the next day to hear the racket of his family waking up and calling to each other along the stair case. His arms were wrapped around himself and he felt a pang as he realized he had dreamt of George. He stood, stretching and cracking his back from the awkward position he'd fallen asleep in. He walked downstairs to the smell of gingerbread cooking in the oven. It was Christmas Eve. He'd forgotten. It sure as hell didn't feel like Christmas. He walked into the kitchen, his eyes falling on the mistletoe over the doorframe with a sting. This would be his first Christmas without George. His nostrils filled with the decadent scent of gingerbread and he grimaced. Gingerbread was George's favorite. His mother froze from over the stove as her eyes took in the slightly disheveled appearance of one half of the set of her twins. Fred looked back with stony eyes.

"If you assume you're going to spend Christmas with your family, you seem to have forgotten that I no longer consider you a part of this family." Molly said coldly. Fred glared at her.

"Good, why would I want to be a part of this manky family?" Fred said, kicking open the refrigerator and taking a swig of orange juice straight from the carton.

"Kindly don't drink from the carton." She ordered him, in a tone most like that of Dolores Umbridge.

"You never had a problem with it before. What? Afraid I'll get some of my diseases on it?" Fred made a face and threw the carton to the floor, causing the juice to cascade everywhere.

"You will pick up that mess right now, Frederick."

"No, I don't think I will." He said, his anger bubbling over the surface. He reached out and knocked the tray of cooling gingerbread cookies onto the ground as well, not caring as his hand burned. He watched as the gingerbread men fell, taking a swim in the river of orange juice on his kitchen floor. He folded his arms and watched his mother gape at him.

"Right. Shouldn't leave things lying around on the floor like that, someone might slip." He said, nodding to the mess on the floor and leaving the kitchen.

Admittedly, knocking those things over wasn't that much of catastrophe, she could just clean it up with two flicks of her wand, but he thought he got his point across with it. He couldn't take the looks, the whispered conversations, he was on the receiving end of. At Hogwarts, the jeers were one thing, but at home they were completely different. Wasn't home supposed to be somewhere you could go to be safe and not fear what people thought of you? Wasn't family supposed to love you and support you no matter what? Yeah, unless you're in love with your brother. Fred thought bitterly. He was sitting in his room again, listening to his family celebrate the holiday without him. He sat on the edge of his bed, hands buried root deep in his hair, staring balefully at his brother's empty bed across the room. He wondered where his other half was, if he had found someone they knew, if he was warm and safe on Christmas Eve, and how it was his fault if he wasn't. Fred reached behind him and wrapped his blanket around his shoulders. He was shivering, even though his room wasn't cold. His teeth chattered and tears fell down his face, stinging like they were made of acid. He had never been without his brother for this long before, not ever. He felt selfish, letting himself break down like this, when for all he knew George was still out lost somewhere and just as alone as he was, if not more. At least Fred still had Ginny. He moaned, rubbing his palms against his face, scraping over his cheekbones and up to his eyelashes. His hands lingered on his forehead, covering his face as he leaned back onto his pillows and curled into a ball, the ratted comforter falling gently over his shoulders. Fred fell asleep to the conversation Ginny and Ron were having in the hallway, consisting of mostly Ron talking about the new broom he hoped to be getting for Christmas. He heard him ask Ginny what she wanted as their voices and footsteps faded up the stairs. George. He thought bitterly. All I want for Christmas is him in my arms again. His eyes slipped closed.

Fred awake much the same as he had the day before, cold and alone in his bedroom, though this time he was not on the floor. He sat in bed and listened for what could have been a few minutes, or a few hours. Screams of glee and laughter erupted intermittently from the living room and wafted up to where he lay. He heard Ron let out a yell and promptly say he was going outside to test it out. He must have gotten his broom. He heard Ginny give a squeal of excitement and vigorously thank her parents over and over. And she must've gotten whatever she wanted. He listened as his parents exchanged presents and thanked each other in turn. Everyone got what they wanted. But me. Where's my Georgie? He rolled over, covering his face in the musty smelling blanket. He stayed there until his stomach would no longer let him, screaming it's discomfort at him, stubbornly begging to be fed. His trek down the stairs was an agonizing one. He didn't want to face the people in the living room. He couldn't rightfully call them his family. Not anymore, anyway. He didn't speak to anyone in the room as he hastily grabbed some food and drink from the cupboards and retreated back into his room.

Fred spent the next few days in a very similar fashion to the first; staying in his room, coming out only when absolutely necessary, not talking to anyone (aside from the occasional conversation he had with Ginny), and setting off pranks and traps for anyone misfortunate enough to let their guard down. It was the least he could do, after all they were being so accommodating to their fourth oldest son. He spent his nights curled up under his blankets, the only comfort left in the old house. Sometimes he slept in his own bed, others in George's. When he could sleep he dreamt of his brother, and when he couldn't he sat up thinking feverishly about where he was or what he could be doing. After being in constant contact with someone for the past sixteen years of your life, even as small an amount of time as a little under a week may be seemed like an eternity.

While sitting up on the fourth night with out his companion, he heard his mother and father whispering about Harry and Hermione's scheduled arrival for the morning. He closed his eyes, content that he would finally have a few more semi-friendly faces around the house, and the fact that he could use Harry's owl. He dropped off to sleep, thoughts swirling serenely through his brain.

I'll use Hedwig tomorrow. I'll tell her she has to find George, and she will. I know she will. And I'll tell him that I'm sorry. That this whole thing is my fault. That I broke my promise, and I love him, and I miss him, and I'm sorry.

Gah. That took me forever to write, I don't even know why it was so hard! But it was. Ick, I don't feel like it was very long, especially since I won't be updating next week, but this is all I've got for you. I'm really terribly sorry, and I hope you liked this chapter, though I really did not.