A/N: I own nothing but the story line. All belongs to the one and only JK Rowling.
Dear Fred,
It's been a total of forty-eight hours since your funeral. I'm really sorry about leaving halfway; I just couldn't bear it anymore. The hollow space in my chest seems to grow bigger and bigger with each minute I spent standing there, staring into the hole they call a grave.
Remus and Tonks are right beside you, by the way. Send my regards to them for me. Do tell them Teddy is doing really well and that they should be proud of him.
Remember when we were twelve, we would joke and muck about that we would die together? And that we ended up making promises that our graves would be next to each other? What happened to that promise, Freddie? Why did you have to go before me? Couldn't you wait for me then?
Losing you has been hard on all of us, me especially. You already know that, don't you? We're two peas of the same pod, you and I. Still are. Nothing can change that, ever.
Oh, Mum told me to write a letter every time I miss you. Makes it easier, she said. I guess it's quite comforting. For a moment there, I contemplated on owling it to you, but it occurred to me that Errol wouldn't know where to find you.
Your spoon on the family clock still points to 'On Vacation.' It saddens me every time I look at the clock, with your face on the spoon. I always expect to see it moving along behind me when I come home to the Burrow.
Oh- the joke shop.
Funny I should mention that. Diagon Alley was the Ministry's first priority to be restored. you know. Our shop's safe, of course. You're silly to think it'll be harmed in any way possible, Freddie. Don't forget, I am your twin, after all; I always know what you're thinking.
It's now well past one in the morning. I miss your presence in the bed next to me. Did you know Mum hasn't stopped crying and crying and crying; Dad's distracting himself with the Ministry; Charlie, the wimp, flew back to Romania and Ronnie's with him. Bill- well, you know Bill. Harry and Hermione has been staying over, helping Gin. Poor Ginny: she's been crying her little eyes out, too, you know.
Me?
I miss you, Freddie. So much.
Forever your twin,
George W.