The air was thick with dust and smaller rock particles, blotting out the silver light of the slim moon and dim stars above, and he who had once been laughing found himself coughing, unable to finish his sentence.

Too distracted by his inability to breathe, he didn't notice the rock, but even if he had, it would have been too late. Contrary to popular belief in weeks later, he didn't die instantly.

A severe pain could be felt on the left side of his head, and his vision began to swim, but not with the black of approaching unconsciousness. Instead, before him, Fred saw memories of days long past, when no one had to worry that what they said to someone would be the last thing between them.

It was one of the first things he recalled, if anyone asked him to look into his earliest childhood memories. His earliest memories were from the War, he could remember his parents with anxious faces, looking distracted as they would read to him and his twin every night before finding his older brothers.

He remembered them always taking pains to comment how much they loved Fred and his brothers, of how much they loved each other, and he'd never understood. He had thought it was silly, ridiculous, he thought they should already know.

So Fred had never been big on expressing his emotions through words, but chose to show them through his actions and facial expressions, thinking that would be enough to indicate to people anything that could be stated.

When he was happy, the whole world laughed with him, when he was angry, the world fled from him. It was that simple, everyone knew how he felt; nothing was hidden, even if he never attempted to articulate his feelings. He was just one of those people; why waste words on emotions when they could be better used as jokes?

But as he thought and felt himself pulling away, he knew what was happening. He knew he was dying, and he was half alive and half dead, even if his body had become still. His soul still watched the dust whirling above, and he tried to hold on, tried to revive himself.

There was too much left unsaid between him and everyone he knew. Fred wanted to stay long enough to say good bye, but nothing more. He wasn't the type to tell people what they meant to him, he expected them to already know, but he felt that everyone should have a chance to say good bye.

Yet even as he thought that everyone should already know, he felt doubts that they could ever really understand.

Even though his body was quickly becoming cold, Fred could still feel the pressure of his elder brother's hands on his shoulders. The dust was still too thick to see, and some stones were still falling, the final pieces crashing to the ground. He could feel himself slipping away, leaving his body, faster, faster. He knew he wouldn't get the chance to say goodbye, not even to Percy, closest to him.

Focusing all his energy, his tried one last time to hold on to himself, to make himself move. Everyone had always commented on the twins' iron wills, and so the force of Fred's this time was enough to move his body, but just a bit.

He could do no more than put a smile on his face, a normal one, as if he'd been laughing. Too long had he left things unsaid and lived through actions and not words. He knew why adults commented on things that kids dared not waste their breath on, and so he smiled, hoping that it would be enough to make up for all that he had left unsaid.

A/N:: Well, Shire Baggins, I don't even know where in StarClan this came from, I mean, does it even make sense? You can totally laugh at it if you want, I most certainly am, and I wrote it. Actuallllyyy, I think I'm going to redo this chapter and change characters but keep the concept.
Er, anyway: Disclaimer: DON'T OWN POTTER SERIES.
Thought for the Day: fanArt ideas rock until you realize you can't draw, then they taunt you.