June 2, 1998

Nowadays, George Weasley brushed his teeth with his eyes closed.

He was getting quite good at crossing the bathroom in the dark. It was safe to open them while on the toilet, or rummaging through the medicine closet, but any other action was far too dangerous to risk with open eyes.

He could, however, do nothing about what he saw when his eyes were closed.

The Great Hall of Hogwarts, become a mass grave—his family grouped together in the center, over a body that George knew as well as his own—

Percy's voice, that echoed strangely in his ears because he was not there; because the Hall was crowded; because George was in the bathroom of his flat on Diagon Alley, because Mum was weeping, lying on top of Fred, and Fred was dead, and George was—

"He—I don't think he suffered. I think it was fast. He was—he was laughing when—see, he's still sort of smiling—"

"Not now, Percy." This was Arthur Weasley's voice, as Molly wailed and clutched Fred's torn robes. "Not—not yet—"

"No."

This was Fred's voice, and it frightened George to hear it. His family's eyes all turned to him, George, and for a moment he wondered why, but his chest was burning, and Fred's voice was coming from his own mouth.

"Tell me. Tell me everything."

How was he able to speak? His hands were on Fred's head; he could feel the blood, the terrible dent, the wound; his eyes were full of Fred but from somewhere deep within his chest he heard himself say, "Everything from when we separated..until he died."

George couldn't find the toothpaste. One hand still leaning on the sink, his toothbrush dangling from his mouth, George searched over the sink counter with his free hand, his eyes still closed.

And it was Percy's voice, always Percy's, that said, slowly and carefully, as if reciting from a textbook: " 'You're joking, Perce. I don't think I've heard you joke since we—' and that's when...the wall exploded."

George's heart lurched in his chest. He bent over the sink, as he had bent over Fred's body, and, then as now, still Fred's pale, bloody, dust-streaked face hovered before his eyes, that faint, mocking smile still playing across his frayed lips.

"I saw Ron, and Harry and Hermione. And Rookwood—Augustus Rookwood, running away."

"He did it?" said Ginny. "Rookwood?"

"I think so," choked Percy. "I—I don't know. I think so. I ran after him—but I lost him. S-so, I went back for Fred.

"Someone, Ron and Harry, I guess, had moved…ah…" Percy put a hand to his face, but George didn't move. "Th-they moved his body into an alcove—to protect it. So I found him and…I stayed with him until I heard You-Know-Who's voice, y'know, and the fighting stopped. So I picked Fred up and started carrying him downstairs. Passed Charlie on the way—he helped me. Mom and Bill were in the Great Hall when we got there. Then, you know, Ginny and Dad got there, and then you, George…"

George's hand slipped on the sink basin. He pitched forward, choking on his toothbrush, and without meaning to his eyes flew open.

His head was inches away from the bathroom mirror. George gagged, spat out his toothbrush and toothpaste, and tried to recoil, but it was too late—his eyes had found those of his mirror-image. Slowly, George dragged a hand over his mouth, his eyes never leaving the mirror.

A low groan escaped George's throat, and he leaned forward to rest his head against the face that could almost be his twin's.

"Fred…what am I supposed to do?"

The blue eyes looking back at him blurred as George's own filled with tears, but he could have sworn he saw in them a familiar gleam, one of a sorrow different from his, before the tears spilled over. Some of them trickled down his cheeks to the mirror and slid down its cold unyielding glass, so that it seemed like the tears of two, instead of one, were falling drop after drop into the Weasleys' bathroom sink.

….

My first foray into the wide, WIDE world of Harry Potter fanfiction! I've been a HP nut practically my whole life, but for some reason I never wrote fanfiction for it. That changed after the most recent movie—I was so outraged at how they skipped over Fred's death, and I desperately needed closure for George neither the movie, nor the book, really, provided. Sooo my beloved cousin suggested I write my own fanfiction, and here it is.

There WILL be more chapters! More angst, more tears, but also hope and resolution, I promise.