After My Brother

George had thought that naming his first born son after his twin brother would be a great way to honor his memory. A living, physical way to prove to the world that those that had fallen during the second war were gone but not forgotten. It had been a good idea in theory. In practice? It hurt like hell.

The war had been over for nearly two years at this point. Wounds had started to heal and people were beginning to start their lives and move forward. He thought he had begun to move on, he missed Fred and he was smart enough to know that this was something he was going to carry with him for the rest of his life. It had been a slow process, starting with easing himself back into work at the joke shop that only made it because Ron had stepped in and made it his life too. As days and weeks passed he'd again managed to show up for work everyday and begin to enjoy his work again.

Then Angelina had happened. George never really knew if Angelina had showed up as he was starting to really move on and live his life or if he had started to live his life because Angelina had showed up. He tended to lean more toward the latter option, they had known each other for so long that it was easy to be together. At some point it had transitioned between just having fun to something serious and almost before he could fully process that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her George had proposed.

It had all led them here to this moment when the healer moved to place his first born, his son, into his arms. How was he going to look at this baby and not see his twin brother staring back up at him? The panic was beginning to set in, what if he hated his son? Resented him for carrying a name that was supposed to be a tribute to his twin? What if he couldn't do right by his son, by Fred's memory, because he couldn't stand the sight of his son because he'd been daft enough to think of naming the baby after Fred? What about his parents? They'd been the ones to lose a child, was he mocking them by naming his first born after their lost son. Would anyone be able to look at him and not see tragedy?

"How 'bout it Dad? Ready to hold your son for the first time?" The healer still had a secure hold on the baby swaddled in blue blankets but she was holding him ever so slightly away from her body to aid George in holding him.

George sent a panicked look at his wife, Angelina looked exhausted her hair in matted curls framing her face, but she sent him an encouraging smile. "Go on George, love, take him."

Still George couldn't bring himself to move, panic making him immobile but the healer was done waiting and with a few uttered directions she placed the tiny bundle into George's arms. For the first time George looks into the face of the baby. His son. Any of the thoughts that had troubled him are out of his head as his son's mouth opens into a big yawn, his eyes gazing up into the face of his father.

"He's perfect."

George Weasley owned one of the most popular joke shops in the wizarding world. He had stood with his friends and family members during the second war. But this, this was the greatest thing he'd ever done. The best thing in his life and he deserved to be named after the greatest person he had known.

"Have you picked out a name for him them?"

George forced himself to look away when he answered the healer's question, "Fred, after my brother."