The day he lost his ear, and some days following the incident, George lay in bed with a high fever. The pain had been tremendous, and with it being dark magic to make matters worse, there wasn't really anything to do about it.
"It'll pass." A haggard looking Lupin had told a worried Molly who was in tears at the though of her poor son being in pain. The pain wasn't that bad though, George wanted to tell her, but had no energy, or consciousness to do so. After making his debut ear joke to his twin brother, George had fallen unconscious and had remained so ever since, waking up at random times in a fevered, delirium in which he shouted random words and called, not for his mother, but his twin.
Fred was getting thinner by the day, so much that he as well, looked to be as delirious as his brother. His face had grown gaunt with worry, his usually fiendish eyes clouded over by fear. He had felt relieved when his brother had spoken to him…when he had joked…but now…. Now they needed to wait…wait and pray that the high fever did not kill George. Fred was very, very brave but during the first days of George's fever he dared not go into the room. He was too afraid to see his twin's face and feel death coming to him. When they had gotten on their respective brooms back at Number 4 Private Drive he had locked eyes with his twin…and he had felt a pang of worry which he brushed off immediately with a smile. And now…what if he went in there...and felt the same pang. By the third day, Molly came out of George's room almost as haggard looking as Fred, thinned down by worry as well. She was surprised to see her other son, identical to the one lying in the brink of death, sitting in the wall opposite to the door which she had opened. His brown eyes were locked on to the floor, his knees raised, and his arms resting on them. He looked lost, blank…empty. She hesitated for a second and then kneeled down next to him, a comforting hand resting on his shoulder.
"Fred…honey…he wants to see you." She said gently, eyes swimming with tears.
"I know." Fred said in a hoarse voice, immediately pressing his lips together which whitened in pressure. He knew very well his twin had been calling for him. George always did. When they were younger it happened more often, whenever George was sick or afraid, he wanted Fred by his side. Always together. Fred and George were identical, even in personality…but George was a tad bit…more gentle. Whenever the two were alone, George would be the one to start the serious conversations. He'd be the one to hug first, to say those rare spoken 'I love yous.' That was all George. And George was never afraid or ashamed to call for Fred. To let him know that he needed him. Fred had been roaming the hall every day, pacing back and forth, hearing his name called out in a hoarse, quavering voice. But he was scared to go in; scared to see death….scared that his brother, his best friend, wanted to see him only to say goodbye.
"Fred…" The wheezing voice was louder now, since the door was open, and it made Fred look up, eyes wide in worry and without thinking twice, he rushed into the room. Molly stood up slowly, tired, and with tears streaming down her face, she shut the door to the room. Her heart was heavy, and as much as she scolded herself for it…she too felt that her George was slipping away.
Fred's heart was hammering as he walked towards his twin. So pale, so frail in the bed…The hole that remained where his ear had been was…swollen in a way, it was an ugly wound that hurt Fred even though he was not the wounded one. George's eyes were dancing underneath his closed lids, moving frantically from left to right, up and down, in circles. "Fred…" He called out again, this time the name followed by a moan. Opening his mouth and letting out a sob that had been aching in his chest, Fred took a hold of his twin's pale hand and sat down on the bed gently, his eyes glued to the face identical to his. "George. I'm here." Fred said his voice tight in an effort to not let himself cry. Not for this…George was still alive…he need not cry. "Oi! George!" He said again, this time tears blurring his eyes, for his brother had gone very still. "Georgie?" He sniffled loudly, letting go of George's hand with one of his and using it to make sure George was breathing. It rested upon his twin's chest where slowly, but strongly, his heart was beating. Fred let out a sigh of relief and took his hand back, gripping his twin's hand in both of his, pressing it against his wet cheek. He thought George had died. He had looked so peaceful…had gone so still. He had thought George was dead. And for the seconds that he thought that…he had felt in hell, in a place where he did not belong anymore…lost…alone. Thinking that George could have died…that he could still die, Fred began to sob, gripping to his brother's hand frantically. "George…don't…please…" He sniffled, again, loudly and ungracefully, but he didn't care. He just wanted his brother to be ok. Just wanted him to live…because without him…
George woke up dizzy but refreshed. He opened his eyes and took in his surroundings, realizing that he was in his room. Well, his and Fred's room. He took a deep breath, and tried to take his hand to his forehead…but found that he couldn't. There was a small instant of fear, where he thought that maybe he had lost his arm as well. But he heard a small groan and with a start turned to look at the right side of the bed where Fred was laying down, George's right hand trapped in an iron grip in both of Fred's. He blinked and then, slowly, sat up in bed. He took his left hand to his forehead and then, upon having touched his skin, brought it forth in front of him where he examined it. It was sticky, and when he brought it to his nose, realized it also smelled salty…like tears. With a quivering smile he turned towards his sleeping brother who was curled into a tight ball. His face had the trails of tears upon his cheeks. He laid his left hand atop his brother's head. The movement woke Fred up. With a start he released his twin's hand and sat up in bed, eyes wide. "Wotcher, Fred." George said with a smile. His twins jaw dropped. "W-wotcher?! Is that all you have to say?" he asked shocked, his face turning slightly red.
"Oh…would you rather I ask what you were doing in my bed?" George asked, raising a ginger eyebrow in mocking question. Fred looked indignant and he locked eyes with his twin…He looked fiendish, teasing, mischievous….but there was a gentleness there, gratitude.
"I called for you, didn't I? I called and you came." George asked, looking slightly embarrassed, his smile crooked. He looked down momentarily and then up at his twin. He found Fred smiling, the same crooked smile…but his eyes were shiny, not with the usual devilish look…but with one of love, relief, and gratitude.
"It took me awhile…I'm sorry it took me awhile…but I'm here for you bro, it might take a while…but I'll be here for you." George smiled. He knew that. Fred had been born at the same time as he…they had always been together…brothers, best friends. That is why, in his sickness, he had called for Fred. Because though his family was numerous…he knew that Fred would always be there. He always had been.
The chaos at Hogwarts was palpable and as Fred and George ran down the hall, the adrenaline was pumping. Fred's face was shining with excitement, George's was the same, but there was a tad of seriousness in his eyes, tightness in his mouth, a sort of heaviness in his step. Fred knew the signs. George was worried. Fred, too distracted looking at his twin only stopped in time thanks to George's hand pulling on his robe. Turning left from another corridor was Percy who looked disoriented but as excited as Fred.
"Oh! Fred! George!" Percy said, his face regaining some color which the twins did not know he had lost.
"What's wrong, Perce?" Fred asked, an eyebrow rising.
"Yeah, Perce, kid's misbehaving?" George piped in, his eyes frantically moving from Percy, to Fred, to the hallways.
"The Death Eaters got in…they have started fighting now." Percy said, licking his lips nervously. The heard steps and George raised his wand instinctively, and though he felt very, very afraid, his hand was steady. Turning the corridor was their father.
"Oh! Thank goodness you are all right." Arthur Weasley said, one hand momentarily laying over his chest. "The time has come boys. You are all adults…but you know that I wish you were home…"
"But you know we are not leaving." Fred said sternly, allowing his father to speak no more. Athur smiled grimly, nodded, and then took in his three sons with something akin to pride…but the worry in his eyes did not let it fully become it.
"Fine. We must split up, Fred, you come with me. George, you go with Percy." George looked momentarily taken aback at his father's request and he looked at Fred with something close to longing. Fred looked at his brother, face blank, and then he smiled.
"Dad, I'll go with Percy, you take George." Fred winked at his brother who looked at him puzzled.
"W-why? Why don't we go together Fred?" George asked, feeling silly all of the sudden. Last time they got separated he had gotten hurt…he had been sick with worry about Fred…and now…going apart again.
"No." Arthur Weasley said sternly. "I won't leave you two alone, you are far too young."
"Than why should I go with you dad? Fred, you go with dad!" George said frantically again, not really knowing why it would make a difference.
"Nah, you are the baby, you go with dad. Besides, someone needs to make sure Perce keeps on his toes, and let's face it bro, I'm a bit more skilled than you when it comes to keeping Percy ruffled."
Percy smiled slightly, seemingly too worried to argue as well. George looked at Fred and nodded, before nodding to Percy. Before he knew what was going on Fred had taken a hold of him in a hug. "Don't loose your other ear George."
"And don't you loose one; they can finally tell us apart." George responded, returning his brother's hug. Arthur and Percy join the hug and held it until they heard screaming down the hall.
"Okay, then. Let us go."
George and Arthur ran to the left and Fred and Percy ran the other away. George knew it was dangerous, but he turned over his shoulder to look at his brother. Fred was doing the same. Fred smiled at his brother and waved and though George felt a pang of fear he brushed it off and smiled as well. "Later Fred!!" Fred didn't respond, instead he turned around and ran along with Percy into the depths of the hallway.
The day Fred died George had gone to bed with a huge headache, an empty chest, and a fever. The fever was high and it would not go away. He wasn't eating, he cried in his sleep and to Molly's dismay and broken heartedness…he called, not for her, but for Fred. He kept saying his brother's name over and over; calling him to his side…calling him from places that Fred could never come back from. Arthur Weasley felt his heart heavy, he had lost a son…and now it seemed that he might loose another. George would not wake up, instead spending his days in feverish dreams, refusing to eat. All he did was cry, and sometimes Arthur wondered if his son was really asleep when the sobs shook him and he cried for his twin brother. On the third day of the fever, George woke up calling for Fred in the middle of the night. When he opened his brown eyes his vision was blurred by tears, but when he focused he saw an identical face looking down at him…so that for seconds he though it was a mirror. His reflection with two ears. "Fred!?" George asked, his voice hoarse with tears.
His twins' cool hand laid on his cheek and Fred smiled, eyes twinkling with mischief but shiny with tears.
"I told you bro…it might take me a while…but I'm here for you. It will take me a while…it will take a long time…but we'll be together again." With that George slipped back into sleep, a smile on his face.
George woke up the next day, dizzy but refreshed. His chest was still empty, his heart still hurt…but when he raised his left hand to his face, he found it sticky with tears…and he knew they were his own…and his twin's. He had called for Fred—and like always, Fred had come.