A/N: Gargantuan (I got sick of the word massive :D) thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: ncis-lady, cutietrp, SlyDevil. COOKIES, runeaglerun, Dimcairien, midnightstar19, Aris1013, MaddyGervais and chocolateMnMs. As always, I really do appreciate the fact that you guys take the time to leave such awesome reviews I hope you all like this chapter; I'm actually quite proud of it. Oh and just to answer a query: no, there won't be any twincest in this story. Just lots of brotherly moments. Anyway, hope you have a good read!

Chapter 9

George swallowed as he observed the wreckage of their shop.

It was now two days after the attack on Diagon Alley. Fred and George had spent one more night at Bill's house before leaving with the promise that they would be more careful. They had immediately headed to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, intent on seeing just how much damage their shop had sustained.

Compared to other premises he had seen across the street, George knew they were lucky. They had passed several shop owners outside who were staring in horror at their own utterly destroyed property. One poor shop keeper was sobbing on his knees in front of a burnt out hollow that was all that was left of his shop. But still, as George's eyes swept over the shattered windows, the fallen shelves, their products strewn across the floor in massive heaps, he couldn't help but feel regret at the destruction of their hard work.

"Bloody hell," he heard Fred mutter from a few metres away. Turning, he saw that Fred was standing near the shelves which had held skiving snackboxes; all that remained now was a hole in the wall, with the charred remnants of their masterpieces scattered nearby.

George took a step forward, cringing as he heard a crunch. Glancing down, he spotted the remains of one of their love potions, the liquid slowly spreading across the floor, darkening the floorboards. Clearing the mess with his wand, George continued forward until he reached the backroom, peering through the curtains. The area was not as badly damaged as the rest of the shop; there were several scorch marks on the floor and walls, however only a few objects had fallen off the shelves.

"How bad is it?" Fred suddenly asked, popping up behind George.

"Easily fixable." George replied. "Our defence line is fine; none of the spells reached it. But the rest of it…" They both turned to look back at the main segment of their shop. Fred sighed.

"Guess we'd better get started then," he said, rolling up his sleeves and removing his wand from his pocket. George did the same. They got to work, repairing the windows, the door, the walls, the shelves. Fred began sorting their products into piles: those which were fine, those which were slightly damaged but could be repaired, and those which were to be discarded.

Hours later, they stood back and observed their handiwork. The main features of the shop had been repaired, the walls now intact, any gaping holes closed. The windows had been fixed, the shards of glass removed from the floor. To their dismay however, the number of products which they had to discard clearly outnumbered the products they could fix. Fred vented his anger by kicking at the large pile, sending the objects tumbling across the floor. George completely understood his anger; they both felt as though the attack on their shop had been a personal attack on them, and it put a damper on their usual lively spirits.

George was not only facing an emotional challenge but also a physical one. His ear had been playing up ever since they began cleaning, and had only gotten worse as the hours passed. To his frustration, the dull ringing in his ear still hadn't left either. George had resorted to discretely rubbing it when Fred's back was turned. Apparating into Diagon Alley had been particularly painful; after having grown used to the uncomfortable sensation, George once again found himself collapsed in Fred's arms, struggling to fight off the nausea and dizziness as several passersby eyed the twins wearily, unsure whether to offer a hand.

"Come on, let's go." Fred said suddenly, heading for the staircase leading to their flat.

"We're not done yet," George said, confused. The shop may look better than it had, but there was still a lot of work left to do.

"You're done for today. Don't think I haven't noticed your ear's been bothering you," Fred replied, tugging on George's jumper. "Come on."

Well, so much for being discrete.

George silently followed Fred up the stairs. It was only when they were near the top that he realised with a start that they had no clue whether their flat had been raided during the attack. Their shop showed no sign of being looted, but it was quite possible that the Death Eaters had found no value in their products and instead had headed for their living quarters. Fred seemed to have come to the same conclusion; his footsteps grew more hesitant as they reached the door, as though dreading what he would find. It was with a deep breath that he flung open the door and stepped inside.

To George's utter relief, their flat was just as they had left it. One of their newest inventions was still resting on the table where they had left it; their dirty dishes were still in the sink from the last meal they had eaten. George even spotted his pillow resting on the ground, from when he had hurled it at Fred who had been singing loudly at six in the morning.

"They didn't come up here," George said, reassured. Fred nodded as he wandered out of their bedroom. "Not that you'd be able to tell, with the mess we leave."

"You're beginning to sound like mum," Fred said warningly.

"Well one of us has to," George muttered back as he cleaned the dishes with a wave of his wand before putting them back in the cupboard.

"No no, no more cleaning for you," Fred declared as he pulled George over to his bed.

"Fred, I'm not an invalid," George protested as he was forced under the blankets.

"Well you're not a perfectly healthy person either. You've been rubbing your ear constantly, and judging that you've occasionally missed what I've said, I'm guessing that your ear is still ringing." Fred raised an eyebrow at George as though daring him to say Fred was wrong. George had no response.

"Right. So you stay in bed, okay? Try and get some rest if you can. We'll go visit mum and dad for dinner." Fred patted George's shoulder as he turned to leave, and despite his earlier protests George felt his eyelids flutter shut almost immediately as he drifted off to sleep.

Two hours later, George awoke, struggling to breathe. Something was covering his nose and mouth, preventing his from getting to the much needed oxygen. Struggling, he eventually managed to throw off his assailant and jumped out of bed, grabbing his wand. He looked down as saw that his assailant was none other than… his pillow.

George lowered his wand, feeling rather foolish. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was 5pm. His stomach gave a loud growl, reminding him that neither he nor Fred had eaten anything since breakfast at Bill's house. George walked to the kitchen, searching for Fred (and food) but couldn't find the former. He found plenty of the latter however, and loaded several chicken sandwiches onto a plate before heading downstairs. If he knew Fred- and he did- then Fred would be downstairs, clearing their shop, and most likely having completely forgotten to eat, being so caught up in the task.

Sure enough, Fred was exactly where George knew he would be. Fred's head shot up the moment George reached the last step, and a grin spread across his face.

"Alright there, sleeping beauty?" He asked, eyeing the sandwiches hungrily.

"You told me not to clean and yet here you are, doing just that," George reprimanded, offering a sandwich to Fred, who took it hungrily.

"Yes well, I couldn't sit around listening to you happily snoring all day, could I?" He asked, voice muffled by the sandwich. "So I decided to make myself useful. What do you think?"

George glanced around. In the last few hours Fred had managed to achieve a great amount of work. Fred had repaired a number of their products which were now resting on the new shelves. The floor was fairly clean, and the scorch marks had been removed. However without the mess, it became so much clearer to Fred and George just how much work they would have to do. The shelves, which had been packed with their products, were now mostly empty. The barrels containing their trick wands and other items were only half full, and there was only one box of skiving snackboxes left.

"It looks so… empty," George finally said wistfully. Fred nodded, finishing off his third sandwich.

"Don't worry," he said, slapping George on the back. "We'll get it filled up soon enough."

"Maybe we could add some of the new things we've been working on," George contemplated, eyes sparkling slightly.

"Now you're getting it!" Fred said with a wide grin. The two headed upstairs, arguing over which new products were ready for sale.

An hour later, after washing up and changing, they were ready to leave. Fred increased the wards around the shop and their flat as they walked outside, in a weak attempt to prevent any further attacks. The two pulled their scarves tighter around their necks as the fierce wind blew through them.

"Ready?" Fred asked, shivering slightly, his breath forming a slight puff of smoke. George nodded wearily, offering his hand to Fred. With a loud crack, they disapparated, reappearing seconds later just outside the Burrow. George doubled over immediately, the pain in his head as strong as it had been when they left Bill and Fleur's place. He had no idea what the attack had done to his ear, but it had definitely made apparating a hell of a lot worse.

"Easy George," Fred said softly as he gently wrapped an arm around George's body, preventing him from toppling over. George, struggling to cope with the dizziness, queasiness and now pain, couldn't do anything other than lean into Fred's embrace.

"It hurts," George managed to gasp out, and he could sense Fred frowned.

"Your head?" He asked, although George barely heard him through the pain.

"Mmhm," George mumbled. Fred dropped to his knees, bringing George down with him, reminding them both of that first time at Bill's wedding reception. George felt the same lurching in his stomach that he had experienced the first time, and tightened his grip on Fred's arm. He felt Fred stroke his hair in response, avoiding his missing ear.

"Okay, okay, just breathe George," Fred said, pulling out his wand, and a moment later George felt the pain lessen. His breathing grew steadier as he struggled to focus on Fred, who was still swirling before his eyes.

"What did you do?" He asked. Fred shrugged.

"Just a spell. I've been reading a few books since we found out about your ear. There was nothing for dizziness or nausea, but pain…" Fred helped George get to his feet, resting a supportive hand on his arm as the wooziness slowly left.

"Ready?" Fred asked gently. After blinking several times, George nodded.

"Yeah."

The two headed for the door. As soon as they walked in, Molly came rushing at them, pulling them both into her arms.

"Thank goodness you're both alright!" She cried out.

"We're fine mum," George reassured her. Over her shoulder, he could see their father looking at them with a worried glance.

"Bill send us a letter explaining what happened… oh George, you could have been killed!" Molly sobbed, releasing Fred and instead wrapping both arms around George. Fred, grinning slightly at his escape, moved to hug their father.

"Ello dad," He said as Arthur pulled him into a warm hug.

"Are you okay Fred?" Arthur asked quietly, his hand moving to Fred's still bandaged wrist.

"Oh yeah. Bill fixed me up. I'm right as rain," Fred said cheerfully, removing the bandages before Molly could see them.

"Good. Molly, let George go, the poor boy probably wants to breathe," Arthur reprimanded lightly. Molly let go of George with a little sob.

"Attack on Diagon Alley…. anything could have happened… so worried," she muttered as she ushered them into the kitchen where dinner was being prepared. They made small talk as they waited to eat.

"What happened?" Molly eventually burst out once the food had been placed on the table. George began explaining what had happened, stopping once they reached the explosion, where Fred took over. They both downplayed George's injuries slightly and didn't mention Fred's at all, not wanting to cause Molly any further concern. She already looked horrified by what they did reveal to her.

"So your ear is worse now?" Arthur asked between mouthfuls of his pasta.

"Unfortunately, yes." George replied.

"Are you going to St Mungo's again?" Molly asked worriedly. "Because I really think it would be best, I mean-"

"No mum, I think I'm just going to deal with it," George interrupted. Molly's eyes widened.

"Oh but dear-"

"They can't do anything to help, mum." George's voice was firm, his eyes resolved. Molly sighed.

"Very well. But both of you please promise you'll be careful next time!"

"You make it sound like we go looking for trouble mum!" Fred said, laughing. At that moment the light overhead shifted on Fred's face, revealing the numerous faint scars that had yet to heal to Molly.

"Fred," She gasped, eyes wide. "Fred!"

"What?" He asked, bewildered at her sudden change in tone. Molly rose from her chair, ran across the table and pulled Fred into her arms, looking horrified.

"Your face!" She cried out, and realisation dawned in Fred's eyes.

"Oh mum, it's just a few scratches," he laughed lightly, batting her hands away.

"A few?" She demanded, pitch rising.

"It's fine! They'll all heal in a few days; Bill's a really good healer-"

Molly seemed to swell with anger. "Bill knew about this?" She shrieked. "He knew and he didn't tell me? He said you were both fine, just needed some rest! This is not fine!" She squawked, grabbing Fred's face in her hands.

"Molly-" Arthur began, having also risen from the table. "Molly dear, Fred's fine-"

"Don't tell me Fred is fine Arthur, this is not fine! One of your sons has been hurt and you're just standing there telling me its fine?"

"Molly, we're at war here. Considering the situation, I'd say Fred was very lucky to come out with a few scars and an injured wrist."

Fred and George both winced.

"INJURED WRIST?"

It took over an hour to calm Molly down and convince her that both Fred and George were unharmed. By this time, she had broken down in angry tears several times and pulled the twins into her arms more times than either cared to count. Thankfully they had convinced her that sending Bill an angry howler was not the solution, and to distract her, they both swore to stay at the Burrow for a week where she could keep an eye on them. This seemed to appease Molly, who after serving them mugs of hot chocolate headed upstairs, giving them each a kiss on the forehead.

George closed his eyes as his mother gently pressed her lips to his brow, basking in the love she seemed to emit. In the midst of the war, he was glad that their mother was so caring, however much he protested otherwise about her worrying ways. Slowly opening his eyes, he sniffed his hot chocolate, taking a sip. The liquid slid down his throat easily, warming him from the inside.

Arthur sat opposite Fred and George, cradling his own mug as he watched them carefully.

"Have you been to see your shop?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah, we went back this morning," George said as Fred sipped his own hot chocolate.

"How was it?"

"Terrible," Fred said moodily. "We managed to fix most of the exterior damage, but more than half our stock is gone. We'll have to start from scratch again."

"They didn't get into our flat though," George added, glancing at Fred in surprise. Of the two, Fred tended to be the more optimistic one. So why was he suddenly so down?

"Well that's good. And don't worry, if anyone could get their business up and running again, it's you two," Arthur said with a proud smile.

"Thanks dad," George replied, feeling his heart warm at their father's words.

"Say dad, do you have any news about Ron?" Fred asked curiously. "Any rumours circulating the ministry?"

Arthur began discussing the possible whereabouts of Ron, Harry and Hermione. George found himself drawn in despite his concerns about Fred. Shaking his head, he focused on his father's words. He would have to deal with Fred tomorrow.

Next chapter: The twins struggle to get the shop back to normal. A customer and an old friend help raise their morale. (Sorry, that sounds bad, but it's really hard to summarise the next chapter!)

Thanks for reading and please review!