Disclaimer: Standard. I don't own it, I never will, I'm not making money off of this.

A/N – Hey, everyone, I'm back. I needed to take a break and think about the changes that were made. I'm still not happy with them, but quitting is not the answer. I found other solutions to my problems.

This is a little fic about Fred Weasley, because he's the greatest character to mess around with. The summary is just below.

Fred Weasley ponders his existence and wonders why he was blessed and cursed with being an identical twin.

Note: I am not an identical twin, nor am I a twin. I used my best judgment when it came to this story. If you are a twin, please do not take offense to anything I may have interpreted wrongly. However, I do know that many twins feel differently about their "twininess" (for lack of a better word), so this may be one of those feelings.

Rainy Days and Mondays

By: Hopeful Writer

"Monday is an awful way to spend 1/7 of your life." – Unknown

"Hangin' around. Nothing to do but frown. Rainy Days and Mondays always get me down." – The Carpenters, Rainy Days and Mondays

It was Monday.

To Fred, there was nothing worse than a Monday. Nothing, except a rainy Monday. And it was just that.

He sat on the window sill and looked out, his eyes narrowed in quiet contemplation. Rain made him pensive. He thought about a lot, staring out at the sheets of water that splashed around the Hogwarts castle. Once he had spent four hours pondering why house elves liked to be slaves so much. That was right after Hermione had tried to rope him into SPEW.

Today, however, was a much different day. Yes, it was Monday, and yes, it was raining, but the rain felt different. It put Fred in a different mood. He didn't want to think about other people and their problems, he wanted to think about himself. Very rarely did Fred Weasley delve into the realm of self-pity, but today the rain took him there.

There was one topic Fred had always wished he could think about, but found his own mind shying away from it. Or maybe it was his heart. Whichever, he had never been able to wonder about why he was an identical twin. But today was different.

For the first time, Fred looked at the heavens and asked why he was blessed and cursed with an identical twin. Why he had been chosen, among four other brothers and a sister, to be given this burden. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy having George around. George wasn't the problem. Everyone else was.

In the seventeen years of his life, Fred had grown accustomed to being called George, Gred, or Forge. Even his own mother couldn't remember which one he was sometimes. And, in those seventeen years, he'd loathed every time he was called one of those names.

Nobody else understood. Sure, Parvati and Padma were twins, but they weren't identical and, thus, didn't have this problem. Everyone always knew which Patil twin was which.

Fred couldn't remember anyone who had ever gotten his name right every time they spoke to each other. Nobody could, except Hermione. Fred wasn't sure why that was. They were far from close, rarely even spoke unless Ron was around. But Hermione never mixed Fred and George up. Maybe it was because she was so smart that she could see the differences. Or maybe it was just because she cared more than everybody else.

It wasn't often that Fred was unhappy being a twin. Most of the time, it was great fun. Fred and George had been troublemakers all their lives. They could play pranks on teachers and never get caught because the teachers couldn't tell them apart. They'd done that all through primary school.

Fred also enjoyed the bond he and his brother had always had, since they were born. George was older, just a little, but Mrs. Weasley joked that Fred had been hanging onto his heel when they came. Fred didn't doubt it. He and George had always been close, closer than he was to any of his other siblings, and closer than they were to each other.

Fred could read George's mind. Not read words and sentences, not pass messages in class mentally. What Fred saw was pictures, feelings, emotions. He knew when his brother was upset or scared, or had something important to say that he wanted everyone's attention for. He knew when George wanted to be left alone or wanted people all around him. Fred never abused this knowledge and he never would. Whatever special connection there was between them was far too precious to lose.

He knew George could do the same thing. George knew him better than he knew himself. He knew when to joke about certain things, and when to lie low and let Fred be unhappy. And he always knew when to give Fred a good punch to make him wake up.

Fred sighed and refocused on the dreary rain. It felt like the thoughts in his head. All the emotions were pouring down, all the anger and fear and joy he had from being an identical twin. He cast his eyes down so he could see the puddles that were forming on the Quidditch pitch. He felt something wet on his bare arm, which rested comfortably on his bent knee. He was crying. Wiping his eyes, Fred felt himself lose control of his thoughts and he floated back into semi-consciousness, where he could be alone with his painful realizations.

He had some really fond memories of being an twin. Nights of mischief back at the Burrow, and days of playing games and pranks, keeping the rest of the family on their toes. By the time Bill had graduated from Hogwarts, he and George had already invented a crude line of pranks.

Fred's best memory was when he was eight. Bill and Charlie were at Hogwarts already, but Percy, Ron, and Ginny were still at home. He and George had recently converted their room into a laboratory for their pranks. They'd yet to test their new inventions however. One night, they crept silently into Percy's room and mixed their first concoction into his drinking glass. When the ten-year-old awoke and drank the mixture, he found it to have a rather bitter taste. When he looked in the mirror, his hair had become rainbow-colored.

That was the first time he and George had succeeded in making someone fall for their pranks. They'd called their first prize the "Head" Prank, head having multiple meanings. Fred smiled slightly at nothing. How unoriginal they'd been in coming up with names. Nothing like the Ten-Ton Toffee. That had been a stroke of genius. George's idea. Most of the smart things were.

Fred was suddenly pitched into consciousness by a beam of light hitting his eye. The rain had stopped, and so had Fred's thoughts. He was quiet for a moment before he realized he could not get them back. That was all right. He didn't need to ponder anymore for the night.

The door opened with a bang. George was standing in the open frame, a bemused grin on his lips. "Hey, come on downstairs. Ron's looking for a challenger in wizard's chess. Let's give him a run for his money."

"We'll never win."

"That's all right. The kid needs an ego-boost anyway." Fred smiled into the darkness of the room. George was the nice one too. Fred was just there to perform the actions.

"Let's go then." They left the room together.

A tiny ray of light refracted off a raindrop, making a small prism where Fred had been sitting. It was no answer, but it was the echo of a rain of reflection.

Maybe rainy Mondays weren't always so bad.

A/N – Major emotional outburst there. Well, that's it. I hope you enjoyed it. It was just something I whipped out for the moment.

Please review. I'd like it. Constructive criticism is the best thing I could receive. So do your best to think of some. Bye!