Fred sat at the edge of his bed in the Burrow, his usually jovial face etched with a seriousness that felt foreign even to him. The room was dim, shadows flickering on the walls from the soft light of the lamp perched on the nightstand. His hands fidgeted with a small scrap of parchment, absently twisting it into a tight knot before flattening it out again. He glanced over at the bed across from him, where George was lying with his arms crossed behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. For once, his twin brother was silent, his expression mirroring the same storm of thoughts swirling in Fred's mind.
The war was no longer something happening out there. It wasn't just whispered conversations behind closed doors or hushed updates from the Order. It was here. It was real. Tomorrow, they were going back to Hogwarts, and this time... this time it was for war.
Fred's throat felt tight, and for a moment, he hated the quiet. Hated how loud the silence was between them. It was wrong—so wrong for there to be a distance between him and George, the one person who always seemed to understand without words. But here they were, both struggling with the weight of what was coming. It wasn't a prank or a joke this time. It wasn't a game.
"You thinking what I'm thinking?" George finally spoke, his voice unusually low, almost hesitant.
Fred's fingers froze mid-twist. He exhaled a long breath and forced a chuckle. "Depends. If you're thinking about how much Mum's going to yell at us when she finds out we're going back, then yes."
George smirked, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "She's always been good at that. Think she'll chase us down with her spoon again?"
"Wouldn't be the first time," Fred responded, attempting another laugh, but it faltered halfway. The humor felt flat. Forced. Even now, as they tried to joke, the weight of tomorrow was suffocating.
Silence fell over them again, heavier this time. Fred clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to stand and pace the room. Instead, he turned his head and caught George staring at him, his brow furrowed, his lips set in a hard line. Fred swallowed, his heart twisting uncomfortably in his chest.
"What?" Fred asked, his voice a little sharper than intended.
George didn't answer right away. He simply looked at him—looked through him—and Fred felt exposed, as though George could see every fear he was trying so desperately to hide. It was unnerving.
"I'm scared," George finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Fred froze, the admission crashing over him like a wave. George didn't say things like that. Neither of them did. They weren't the ones who admitted fear or doubt, not to each other, not to anyone. They laughed through everything. It was what they were good at. What they were supposed to do.
But this... This was different. Fred could feel it, too. The fear creeping into the spaces between his bones, the knots in his stomach that wouldn't untangle no matter how hard he tried to ignore them.
"Yeah," Fred said quietly, staring down at the parchment in his hands. His fingers trembled as he twisted it tighter. "Me too."
George rolled onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. He studied Fred's face, looking for something—maybe reassurance, maybe solidarity. "Do you think..." George hesitated, his voice catching for just a moment. "Do you think we're ready for this?"
Fred squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push away the doubt, the fear that had been gnawing at him for days. "Does it matter?"
"I guess not," George replied softly. "But still... it's bloody terrifying, isn't it?"
Fred opened his eyes and met George's gaze. He saw the fear there, the uncertainty, but beneath it all, he saw something else. He saw George, his twin, his other half, the person who had been by his side since the moment they were born. The person who had stood with him through every prank, every joke, every fight. And suddenly, Fred knew that no matter what happened tomorrow, no matter how scared they were, they would face it together.
"It is," Fred agreed, his voice steadier now. "But we're not going in alone. We've got each other. And that's always been enough."
George gave him a small, tight smile. "Yeah. I suppose you're right."
They lapsed into another silence, but this one felt different. It wasn't the oppressive quiet from before, but something more comfortable. Something more familiar. Fred let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and he felt some of the tension in his chest loosen, if only just a little.
"We'll be alright," Fred said, more to himself than to George. "We'll fight, and we'll do what we always do. We'll get through this."
George didn't say anything, but his eyes softened, and Fred knew that his brother believed him. They didn't need to talk about what might happen tomorrow. They didn't need to say what they both knew deep down: that not everyone was going to make it out of this alive.
Fred pushed that thought aside. He couldn't think about that. Not now. Instead, he stood up and crossed the small space between their beds, sitting down beside George. He nudged his brother's shoulder lightly.
"Think we'll still have time for a laugh or two?" Fred asked, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
George chuckled, the sound more genuine this time. "Knowing us? Definitely."
Fred leaned back on his hands, staring up at the ceiling, his grin growing wider. "Good. Because I have a couple ideas up my sleeve. You know, just in case."
George raised an eyebrow. "In case of what?"
Fred glanced at him, his grin turning mischievous. "In case we need to go out with a bang."
George snorted. "Merlin, Mum's going to kill us."
Fred's heart felt lighter at that sound, the familiar banter between them returning, the heaviness lifting—if only for a moment.
"Worth it," Fred said, his eyes gleaming with that familiar spark. "Completely worth it."
And in that moment, as they laughed together in the quiet darkness of the room, Fred allowed himself to believe that no matter what happened tomorrow, they would face it with the same courage and humor they always had.
Because that's what the Weasley twins did.
But as the laughter faded and silence returned, Fred couldn't quite shake the chill that lingered in the air—the shadow of something darker looming just beyond their reach. And for the first time, he wondered what the world would look like if one of them was no longer in it.
But that was a thought for another night. Tomorrow, they would fight. Together.
