AN: This story was kinda a random thought. Not really sure if it's any good. But oh well.

George opened his eyes as his only child walked into his room. He smiled weakly at the boy and struggled to push himself up on his pillows.

"Hello, father," the boy said and sat beside George's bed. His eyes were filled with concern. He knew his father's life was drawing short.

"Hey, Fred," George's smile faded. He regretted having leaving his twenty-year-old son alone. George, at 52, was dying young. He had blindly refused treatment for the cancer that was killing him. He had thought only of seeing his brother Fred, not thinking of his son of the same name.

"How are you feeling?" his son asked. George shrugged.

"Alright, I guess," George looked into his son's eyes. Fred remained silent. "I'm sorry."

The boy looked away. He knew this was going to be the last time he would spend with his father alive, yet somehow there was nothing to say. They'd already said everything that needed to be said earlier on, when George had not been so sick.

That night, George Weasley died.

George awoke, but kept his eyes closed. He knew he must be dead. He felt so much better than he had in so long. He felt young again. He opened his eyes to find himself in a train station.

George stood up and looked around. There was only one train. A conductor was walking towards him.

"So, where will you be going?" the man asked. George frowned.

"What d'you mean?" George glanced at the one train and caught a glimpse of his reflection in the window. He was much younger, around the age when he'd lost his brother and his ear that he'd lost was back. He was so used to it not being there that it was odd to have two ears again.

"Will you be going on the train or will you go back and become a ghost?"

George tried to see where the train tracks led, but he couldn't make out anything beyond the train station walls.

"Where does the train go?" he asked.

"I can only tell you that it goes beyond," the conductor told him.

George looked back at the conductor. His brother had certainly not become a ghost. Fred would have gone on.

"I'll take the train," George said. He wanted more than anything to see his twin again. He had gone through so much pain when they had been separated. He'd never stopped missing his brother.

The conductor nodded and led him to the train. There were already some people on the train. George found an empty compartment and sat down. Soon afterwards the train lurched forward. George felt butterflies in his stomach. He had no idea what was ahead. His only hope was that his brother would be waiting on the other side.

The train made several stops. George didn't get off at any of them. He didn't know what compelled him to stay on the train, but somehow at all the places the train stopped it didn't seem right to depart the train.

At last a train stop sounded familiar as a voice called out over the intercom.

"King's Cross Station, Platform 9 ¾."

George set his jaw and exited the train. The platform was exactly the same as any of those times he'd boarded or exited the Hogwarts Express, only that there was only one person there rather than the usual crowd of parents and students.

The one other person one the platform got up from a bench and walked towards George as the train left. George's heart leapt. He knew that face. It was the same face that stared back at him whenever he looked into a mirror.

"Welcome, Holey Saint George, to the Afterlife," Fred Weasley made a flamboyant bow and swept his arm around to show off the platform.

"Yah, but I'm not holey anymore, Fred," George smiled.

"Really?" Fred examined his brother's ears. "Now we can confuse people again!"

George laughed. It was the first time in over thirty that he had really laughed. "Well that's good. I was really missing people calling me Fred."

"Yah, sorry 'bout that," Fred's smile faded. "I- I didn't want to leave you."

George stepped closer to his brother. "None of that matters now."

Fred's smile returned and he threw his arms around his brother. George hugged his brother back tightly. Neither wanted to let go for fear that they'd be separated again.

"I never want to be alone again," George whispered.

"I know," Fred whispered back. "I missed you, too."

George smiled and buried his face into his brother's shoulder. Fred was there for him again. He wouldn't ever be alone again. They were both dead now. There was nothing that would ever separate them again.