Echoed Laughter

Written because my undying passion for Fred will live on.

I have no idea how many times this paticular story plot-line has been written, but seriously? They can't all be the same. So ill go ahead and take a stab at this and see how I do.

Disclaimer- I own nothing. JK Rowling owns all and this disclaimer really ruins the mood I was after when I wrote this story.

I'm starting off with a quote directly from the book, enjoy.

"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately.

"You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured.

"I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."

George's ears perked up at this small speech and he whipped his head around to see the Death Eaters swiftly moving out of the castle. He wanted to go after them, but something inside of him was pulsing through his chest. He couldn't quite place what this feeling was.

Then he saw his family, and tears were streaming down Mum's face.

He approached slowly, a deep feeling of dread almost completely drowning him.

"Wha-?"

"G-George?" Percy choked out, his face going pale.

"What’s happened?" George asked, regaining composure.

"It...It couldn't be stopped...nobody could...nothing would have..." The chopped words came from Bill's deep voice.

But George finally clocked what they were talking about.

Fred.

His eyes traced downward as his world went with it. The gaping hole where his ear was supposed to be suddenly ached for the first time since the incident and it felt as though his ear were being torn off all over again. Immediately, as though watching some sort of reeling film he witnessed memories flashing before his eyes;

Fred and him at the age of seven, flying around on small broomsticks, hitting enchanted balls that were made to act as bludgers.

Fred and him making concoctions in their bedroom, blissfully unaware of how dangerous they might be.

Fred and him studying together, the few times they did study.

Fred and him opening up their joke shop together.

Fred and him learning how to dissaparate together, buying their first wands together, being born together.

Laughing together.

George realized with a jolt that it had always been Fred and him. Together. He didn't think anything could- Would dare- change that.

But something just did, and his insides became a hurricane of emotion he had never experienced before.

His family was attempting to embrace him; he hugged them back lightly then quickly shook them off. He needed to look. Really look at his brother.

George got down on his knees, kneeling next to Fred's pale face, a smile still etched upon it, he felt tears sliding down his own face, but didn't want to cry about it. He couldn't even begin to imagine what his twin brother would say if he saw him crying.

'Honestly, mate! Stop crying already! Everyone's going to think you're some sort of moody git!' George could even see the warm smile playing across his familiar features.

George didn't notice Mrs. Weasley fling herself onto Fred's body, hiccupping with despair. He didn't notice Ginny's random outbursts as she looked down upon her dead brother. He didn't notice Ron and Hermione approaching. Nothing mattered except that the one person he always counted on was gone. Forever.

A thought struck George through his tears he was trying to hold back. Fred died for something good. Fred died for something he believed in. Something worth dying for.

George also realized something else as his golden eyes scanned Fred's face for the thousandth time.

Fred died laughing.

Which was the most important thing of all.