Fred died during the Battle of Hogwarts. This has lasting effects on his surviving twin.

The Other Twin

Hermione once mentioned that if a Muggle loses a limb, he or she might continue to feel pains where that limb was – a phantom limb. George lost more than a limb. He lost his twin. It was always the two of them, getting into mischief. Until that fateful day when only he was left.

Fred lying there on the cold stones, eyes glazed and unseeing in death…

Days, weeks, months slipped by. The ache remained. He threw himself into the business they had built. The magic was more muted now. The colours faded. He tried to make it work. It had to work. It must work.

A bad batch of Puking Pastilles sent some children into St Mungo's and their angry parents to his door. The Wonder Witch range of products was taken off the shelves when a bill was passed against the sale of love potions to children. A lawsuit brought against the company by the parents of a child injured by their prank telescope. New products introduced after Fred's passing did not quite take off.

The laughter was dead. He would never hear his twin laugh again.

He married Angelina Johnson, who had been walking out with Fred before his demise. They were married barely six months after Voldemort's defeat.

"Too fast, too soon…" his elder brother Percy had warned. He wished they had listened. After all, they had witnessed how badly Potter's relationship with Cho Chang went after they hooked up too soon after Cedric Diggory's death.

A son was born to them within a few years of marriage and quickly named Fred. George insisted on it. The daughter that followed was named Roxanne to his mother's chagrin. It was not English enough for Molly. He had promised his wife after all she could name the child after having gotten his way in naming his son.

By now the cracks were showing. He spent days and often nights at the shop, trying to make Fred's ideas work.

Ron had left his job as an Auror to help raise his own children at home when Hermione's career took off in the Ministry. When the children were old enough, he helped at Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes. It had been an uphill battle for him to accept Ron's working in the store. Ron was not Fred.

"George, perhaps some of these ideas weren't meant to work. How about you look at the Shield Boots you were working on before the War? The Ministry is still interested in funding that…" Ron stared at the mess of discarded parchment and spilled ink.

"Have you even gone home this week? It's almost Christmas. Mum has ordered me to bring you home for dinner," Ron warned. He shook his head and waved his wand over the mess, stacking up the parchment and cleaning the ink off. He all but shoved George into the fireplace after he tossed in the Floo Powder and shouted out their destination - the Burrow.

At the Burrow, there were always too many people. Teddy Lupin often dropped by with the Potters. So did Bill and his children. Hermione was often busy, but Ron brought their children every weekend. Percy had his own little family by now. George felt oddly unsettled that all the places at the dinner table were all filled, yet there was no place for his twin. Fred Weasley was gone from the Burrow forced out by the growing number of grandchildren.

There was never any trace of Fred in the house George shared with his wife and children, bought after their marriage. Fred never lived there. The twins had lived above the store in Diagon Alley. George always returned to that suite of rooms to be close to his twin.

Fred II was too different from his late uncle. His hair and colouring a shade too dark. He preferred chess to Quidditch, to George's dismay. Angelina blamed him for putting their son on a broom when he was far too young. The ensuing fall broke not only little Freddy's leg but any confidence he had in flying. Even in Hogwarts, Freddy staunchly refused to go any higher than a couple of feet off the ground at a snail's crawl while his sister was turning loops in the air. Roxanne would go on to captain her House Quidditch team. Freddy broke the Weasley's Gryffindor streak by being Sorted to Hufflepuff. George could not help but feel a bit disappointed when he got the news. A yelling match had ensued with Angelina and ended with him leaving the house. He did not quite understand why, but it had mattered to him. Angelina did not mind. Her father was from Hufflepuff.

Angelina's patience eventually ran out. George arrived at their house one evening after much urging by Ron and Percy. It was empty and he was too late. His wife had taken both children and gone to her mother's. An owl from the lawyers soon followed with the divorce papers.

George found he was too numb to care by then. His father tried to speak to him. His mother yelled at him for neglecting his own family. It was always Angelina who took the children to visit. Not long after the divorce, Angelina started going out with Oliver Wood. They had joint custody of the children, but George had no idea what to do with them on the weekends he had them. He left them with his parents and went back to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

"Skiving Snackboxes are going out of style. You need something new, or we are going into the red…" Ron pointed out.

"But they're Fred's favourite product…"

"Look, Fred would not want you to bankrupt the business. Blisterpods are not as cheap as they once were with the Spottedleaf Disease. Let's cut back on the production. What about we do some work on the Flying Spy range? Have you been to see the kids this month? Dad's been picking them up from Angie's. Seriously, Freddy's not Fred. Stop expecting him to be," Ron slammed the ledger down on the desk.

"Roxanne's all in for her mom marrying Wood so she can have a real father. Where have you been all this time? Do you have any idea how Hermione makes time from her busy schedule to be with our kids, even if it is just a quick stopover between meetings to take them for ice cream or to the Muggle library. She tries to be there for them."

"But Fred… It hurts so much. I cannot let go…" he looked about the back office - Fred's old worktable buried under piles of prototypes and plans, covered by a layer of dust. He had snapped at Ron when his younger brother tried to tidy it up for his own use. Ron settled for a tiny desk in the corner instead. The prototypes and plans were years old. They had gone out of fashion or proved unsustainable. He had already developed all those which might work.

"You are an idiot, George. You need to get your act together. Take a break for a couple of days. Take the tent and bring the children on a camping trip. I don't suppose you know Freddy's interested in herbology, do you? Roxie's as Quidditch crazy as Angie is. They support the Tornados, not the Harpies. You have already lost your wife and are on your way to losing Freddy and Roxie too."

It will hurt. Like ripping a scab off a Muggle-healed wound or losing an ear…

George stared at the pile of rubbish. There was even an old Coke can from when they had to flee Death Eaters. The table seemed to have remained in a state of stasis, waiting for his twin's return.

Fred was not coming back. He was not going to come grinning through the door with some Muggle takeaway in hand.

"Sure about this?" Ron asked when George summoned a large trash bag and started sweeping the rubbish into it. George nodded grimly. He did not speak until he had the last of the mess bagged and a Scroungify cast. He Banished the entire bag. Finally, he charmed the name plate on the worktable to read Ronald B. Weasley and did the same for the plate on the office door.

"Ron, I have been a total git to Angie and the kids. Could you help watch the store for a few days? Where do you suggest we do for camping?" George blinked away his tears.

Farewell, Fred. Until we meet again.

Author's Notes:

George would have been very affected by Fred's death. In this fic, he allows himself to wallow in his grief to such an extent that he unknowingly misses out on his own children and being a father and husband to his family. Despite what was said about Ron's emotional range, I like to think that he has matured after his experiences during the War and is able to talk some sense into his brother or mitigate some of his more questionable decisions.