A/N: Hey, I think this is about the half way mark! I'd like to say a massive thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: runeaglerun, Aris1013, SlyDevil. COOKIES (sorry for the space, but if I put it together the whole thing disappears for some reason), Dimcairien, ncis-lady, Carkey, MaddyGervais, chocolateMnMs, midnightstar19 and cutietrp. You guys are brilliant. Honestly, I adore you all. It's really touching that you guys are all still following this, and I really appreciate all the feedback. I hope this chapter is okay! It continues straight off from the last one.

Chapter 8

Bill returned several minutes after he had gone upstairs, carrying a stack of blankets and pillows. Fred offered him a small smile as Bill placed his load on the floor beside Fred.

"Thanks, Bill," he said sincerely.

"If you need anything, you let us know, alright?" Bill said. Fred nodded as Bill left.

At that moment, George stirred slightly.

"George?" Fred asked hopefully but George didn't awaken. Sighing, Fred bundled the blankets until they made a soft pile. Taking one of the spares, he draped it over George, tucking in the corners, making sure George was warm.

"Night, George" he murmured as he curled up on the pile of blankets, his face turned towards the sofa.

There was no response.

The next morning, Bill was up quite early. On a normal day, he would lie in bed next to his gorgeous wife and try to think about a future where there was no war, where they could start a family without fearing for their lives. This particular morning however, he was out of bed almost immediately, heading downstairs to make sure that both Fred and George were still okay and that nothing had happened while he was sleeping.

Once downstairs, he peered into the living room. The fire that had been lit the night before was now gone, and the room temperature had dropped several degrees. Fred was sprawled on his stomach, head tilted to a side. The many blankets Bill had provided were strewn haphazardly nearby; in the cool room, Fred was shivering slightly with only one blanket covering half his body.

Apparently he'd had a restless night.

George on the other hand had barely moved from the position Bill had left him in the previous night, his body stretched out on the couch. Bill noticed that George's hand had fallen from its position on the couch, and was now lightly brushing against Fred's hair. He couldn't help but smile at George's unconscious attempt to seek comfort from his twin. He was tempted to wake Fred up- the number of times he'd been rudely awakened by one of their pranks- but eventually decided against it, as Fred seemed to have had a rough night, and could probably use all the sleep he could get. It took a lot of self-restraint on Bill's behalf though.

It was several hours later, when both Bill and Fleur had already finished a quiet, peaceful breakfast, that Bill noticed both Fred and George beginning to stir.

George felt… strange. His eyelids felt as though they were being held down by weights, his throat was dry, and there was a dull ringing noise echoing in his ears. Moving his head slowly, he paused as he sensed that several people were staring at him. It took a great deal of effort, but he somehow managed to open his eyes. Fred's bloodshot eyes were staring back at him.

"F-Fred," George somehow managed to get out, wincing at the pain it caused his throat. Behind Fred he saw a slight movement, but he didn't know what caused it.

"George," Fred whispered back, looking as though he was on the verge of tears.

"What-" George started to ask, but couldn't get any further.

"We were attacked at Diagon Alley, do you remember? There was an explosion, and you… you collapsed, so I brought us here," Fred said, his hand moving to grasp George's.

"Where-" George swallowed.

"We're at Bill and Fleur's house," Fred replied, and it was only then that George noticed his oldest brother standing behind Fred. He smiled down at George.

"Hey buddy," he said quietly. "How are you feeling?"

"My…" George gestured to his throat weakly, when suddenly Fleur was kneeling beside Fred, offering George a glass of water. He took several sips gratefully, feeling his cracked throat soften.

"How long have we been here?" George asked once he had finished the glass, glad that his voice sounded somewhat normal again, although the slight hoarseness made him cringe.

"You came last night," Bill replied, perching on the armrest by George's head and stroking George's hair gently. "You were in bad shape, we were worried about you."

George bit his lip and looked at Fred. His brother was in a poor condition. George could still make out faint scars on his face, and his wrist was bandaged. But the damage went beyond just physical injuries; Fred had a slightly haunted look about him, and George didn't miss the way Fred's eyes would constantly return to him, as though making sure that George was still there.

"M'okay Fred," he mumbled quietly. Fred got that look on his face when he was about to make a joke to try and diffuse the emotional tension, and sure enough:

"Next time you try and become the holey spirit, you warn me beforehand alright?" He remarked with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. Bill groaned, and swatted Fred's arm lightly.

"No holey jokes here," he said warningly, although the smile on his face spoke otherwise. "Well, if you're okay George, I'm off to write a letter to Mum. No doubt she heard about the attack and is worried sick about both of you." He hurried up the stairs, leaving the twins and Fleur.

"I shall prepare ze breakfast," Fleur said with a smile, heading towards the kitchen.

"Thanks Fleur," Fred called out. She acknowledged this with a wave. Once she was in the kitchen, Fred turned to George, dropping his cheerful mood immediately.

"Are you alright George?" He asked seriously. George, knowing better than to respond with 'I'm fine', instead pondered the question for a moment.

"My head's still sore, and there's a ringing in my ear," he answered honestly. "But I feel a hell of a lot better than I did last night."

Fred dropped to his knees beside George's couch. "You ah… you remember last night?" He asked, slightly cautious. George frowned.

"Yeah, there was the attack… and then we were lying somewhere soft. You were hovering over me, saying something. I can't remember what though," he said, furrowing his brow. Fred looked slightly relieved. "All I can remember is that my head felt like it was going to explode. Worse than it's ever felt, Fred, I… I honestly thought I was going to die," George said solemnly. Fred's relieved look vanished.

"The way you were lying there… so did I," he replied gravely, and George felt that he finally understood just why Fred had looked so haunted.

"But I'm not." George said firmly, as thought trying to convince both himself and Fred. "I'm still here."

Fred nodded, gripping George's hand within his own. "Yeah," he whispered. There was a slight pause. "George, I-"

"Breakfast eez served!" Fleur declared with a flourish, presenting them with two hovering plates stacked with food. Both Fred and George's eyes grew wide and their stomachs growled in unison.

"That looks marvellous, thanks Fleur," George gushed gratefully as he took one of the plates eagerly.

"You're amazing Fleur, you really are," Fred agreed, taking the other plate. Fleur looked quite pleased at both comments.

"Well, eet was nothing," she said with a smile. "I 'ope eet eez to your, how do you say, enjoyment."

The twins tucked in, soothing their stomachs. Within ten minutes, both plates were clean. George turned back to Fred, eyebrows raised.

"You were saying?" He prompted. Fred looked lost.

"What?"

"You were going to say something before." George reminded him.

"Oh! It- it was nothing," Fred tried to stand up, but George grabbed him, forcing Fred to look at him.

"Fred, what?" He asked forcefully. Fred gave a regretful little sigh before dropping to the floor, crossing his legs.

"George, I don't- I don't know if I can do this anymore," he said nervously. George felt rather confused.

"Do what?" He asked.

"This. Be- be a part of this war. Fight for the Order," he said, still wearing the same sad, vulnerable expression.

"What? Why?" George asked, utterly confused. Fred, not wanting to be a part of something so big, so important? What could possibly change his mind so suddenly? "Who are you and what have you done with Fred?"

"I'm seriously, George," Fred said solemnly, and George dropped the act.

"Why?" He repeated.

"Because."

"Because what?" George snapped, growing impatient at Fred's evasiveness.

"Because I have too much to lose!" Fred shot back, rising to his feet. George did the same, although he kept a hand on the couch to maintain his balance.

"Too much to lose?" He repeated incredulously. "Since when have you ever had too much to lose?"

"Since forever!" Fred said, turning his back on his brother. "I just didn't realise it until recently."

"Oh well, if you're too important for this war, I suppose that gives you a good reason to just walk out on all of us," George threw back, his voice growing louder, anger clouding his mind.

"I never said I was important!" Fred snapped.

"You clearly value what you have to lose more than you value anyone else-"

"You git, you are what I have to lose!" Fred yelled, face flushed. George fell silent, mouth open.

"What?" He finally whispered.

"You heard me," Fred replied, his own voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Fred-"

"I can't. I can't, George. I can't handle everyone being in so much danger all the time. George, we could lose anyone in our family at any second and I can't do anything to stop it and I'm so scared." Fred had once again dropped to the floor, resting his arms on his knees, his head cradled in his hands. George wordlessly took a seat beside him, not knowing what to say. Out of the two of them, George was the one who tended to be more emotional, to cave into tears, never Fred. At least until now.

"Dad's at the ministry all the time and Mum's alone at home. Bill's already in hiding, Charlie is somewhere in Romania and we barely hear from him, we don't even know which side Percy's on, Ginny's at Hogwarts where Snape is the headmaster and Ron-" here Fred gripped his hair tightly in his hands, knuckles white. "We don't even know if Ron's alive, George. He could be in so much danger with Harry and Hermione right now and I can't do anything to help anyone." Fred buried his face in his hands, and George had a strong suspicion that Fred was fighting back tears.

"And you!" Fred suddenly exclaimed, head flying up again, eyes bright. "I can't even protect you and you're my twin! Even when I'm with you, you still manage to get yourself injured!"

"Fred, what happened to me isn't your fault," George tried to reassure him, but Fred barrelled on.

"I can't lose you, George," he said quietly, his eyes dark. "I can't lose anyone in our family but I cannot lose you." Fred was looking at him despairingly, and at that moment George was willing to do anything to make Fred feel better, even if it was agreeing to something that he had no control over, because he had never seen Fred look so despondent in the nineteen years they had been alive. He pulled Fred into his arms, making soothing noises.

"You won't, Fred," he whispered, stroking Fred's hair. "You won't lose me. You won't."

Fred seemed to find comfort in George's words, however meaningless they were. He drew back from George, his eyes wet.

"I just wish I could take everyone away. Take them all somewhere safe, away from this war. Our entire family and Harry and Hermione and Fleur. Everyone I care about. I wish I could keep them safe." Fred said sorrowfully. George gently squeezed Fred's shoulder, feeling a small part of his heart break at the obvious pain Fred was feeling.

"That's some hero complex you've got there mate. And I thought Harry was bad!" He said jokingly, and Fred laughed weakly, rubbing his eyes. George sighed, knowing it would take more than a joke. He wasn't sure how to reassure Fred, but he decided to do his best.

"Someone once reminded me of something we heard. That when the time came, we would have to choose between doing what is easy and what is right," George said, voice cracking slightly. "That same someone told me that the war we're fighting is by no means easy, but it's definitely right. I would think that if our family had to risk their lives for anything, it should be this."

Fred was quiet, obviously remembering the moment as well as George. After a few moments, he opened his mouth.

"Was this someone a devilishly handsome, incredibly intelligent, amazingly suave double of yours?" He finally asked, the hint of a smile lingering on his lips. George raised an eyebrow.

"More like an annoying tosspot that has nothing on his twin brother," he replied, laughing as Fred gave him a shove.

"Is everything alright?" Bill's voice asked from the top of the staircase. Fleur peered around from behind him, looking worried. "We heard yelling…"

"Everything's fine," Fred reassured them. "Just reminding dear George here of exactly who is the better twin."

"Clearly me," George said.

"Is not!"

"Is too!"

Bill groaned. "I thought you two grew out of this stage when you were seven!" He moaned.

"Well clearly we haven't," George told his disapprovingly. "Honestly Bill, don't you ever pay attention?" With his hands on his hips, brow furrowed, he reminded Bill strikingly of their mother.

"Always had his head in the clouds, that one," Fred told Fleur in a loud whisper. She laughed, tossing her hair.

"Wherever 'is 'ead eez, I still love 'im," she said, gazing adoringly at her husband, who shot the twins a triumphant look.

"How much did you pay her to say that, Bill?"

"Oi!" Bill lightly threw a pillow at George, mindful of the fact that George had only recently woken up. Fred watched on, laughing as George tackled Bill, who easily picked up his younger brother and deposited him back on the couch, ordering him to rest because Bill 'didn't fight invalids even if they were asking for it'. But Fred couldn't fight off the lingering despair he felt despite George's words, the feeling that not all of them were going to survive this war. Luck didn't seem to run strongly in their family when it came to injuries; Ginny, Ron, George, Bill and Arthur had all been wounded already, and Fred wasn't quite sure how much longer what little luck they had was going to hold up.

Next chapter: Fred and George return to Diagon Alley to find their shop is not in the state they left it. At all. Meanwhile George deals with the repercussions of the attack, and a trip to the Burrow leaves Molly slightly hysterical.

Thanks for reading, and please review! :)