Hello! This is i my first Harry Potter story so please don't kill me if it's completely awful! This little plot bunny had been hopping round my head for a while now, so i thought it was about time i wrote it down!

WARNING: A box of tissues may be needed at hand! I cried while writing this, especially at the end.

Anyway, i hope you enjoy!

Mischief Managed

It was all over, Voldemort was dead, his fellow death eaters were either scattered round the castle bloody and broken or running to the hills tails between their legs. The majority of the school had been blown to shreds, the great hall a couple of class rooms and the Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff common rooms were all that had remained in tacked, everything else was broken and damaged.

Everything could be peaceful, everything could be calm again. People could stop living on the edge, fearing any stranger that walked past their front door. Because Voldemort was dead, which meant the world would be OK again.



Nothing would ever be the same anymore, nothing would be the alright anymore, because he was… he was… he was dead. His other half, gone, vanished; all life from his eyes vanished, gone forever. He cloaked on the thought, not quite able to accept it. His life had broken into pieces, much like the Hogwarts castle had, bits lay broken and dying all around him, just like the light in his life, the simile of his brother; had gone out.

They were all sat in the great hall celebrating, laughing, joking, smiling, how could they? Not everyone had survived, not everyone was left unharmed, so how could they be celebrating?

He looked round at his family, Ron and Hermione sat hand in hand next to him on his left, Hermione lay snuggled into Ron who absentmindedly stroked her hair with his free hand, while his eyes looked far away into the distance, unfocused, sad, the same eyes as his own; the same eyes as everyone around him. They may be smiling but their eyes, their eyes told it all.

He looked across the table to his parents, his mum sat in much the same position as Hermione, head resting on his dads chest, their hands locked together, her free arm lay wrapped round his dads waist, gripping him tightly to her, her cheeks were streaked with dry tears, and her green eyes were wet and filled with sorrow.

He looked round at the rest of his family, Bill and Flure sat hand in hand talking quietly but Bills eyes were also distant, not really listening to what Flure was saying, Charlie sat on his left head on table exhausted eyes shut, breathing heavily. Then there was Percy who sat next to Charlie, he was still as a statue, hands in lap eyes staring far away, far, far away. Percy blamed himself for Fred's death, claiming that he should have pulled him out the way of the rubble; he should have been able to save him. Molly had tried to convince him that it wasn't his fault, that there was nothing he could have done, but Percy wasn't having any of it, he had fallen into a sea of guilt and was drowning in it.

He needed some space to think, he needed to get away from all the smiles and the laughter, from the tears and the solemn faces. So he left, standing abruptly, causing those around him to startle and look up at him, he nodded to his startled mother, trying to convey the message of, 'I'm ok I just need some air', not bothering to stay and check if she had got that message he lay a reassuring hand on Ron's shoulder who had looked up at him curious, then left.

He walked away quickly, trying not to look to obvious, trying not to look behind him at Fred's lifeless body, trying not to run, trying not to cry, trying, trying, trying. It didn't work, it all came crashing down at once, he turned round and saw Fred's still body, choked on his tears and ran, the tears became a river falling down his face, flailing behind him as he ran, fleeing from the room, needing and escape.

He just ran, unsure where he was going, leaving it all behind him. He let his unconscious thoughts lead his legs to where he needed to be, not caring where he ended up, as long as it was away from there. He ran down torn up corridors, past smashed statues and slashed paintings, he ran on, past filches office, the broken caught yard, the shattered trophy cabinet, a class room with only half a wall remaining, an endless stream of class rooms, broken and deserted, until he reached it, that room which he had been looking for. He paced before it 3 times thinking 3 words, just three words "Fred and George, Fred and George, Fred and George" then the door appeared, the same door as his bedroom back at the burrow, pictures of himself and Fred, waving and smiling their names graffitied on with felt tip pens then below their names were hand-prints which they had made as children, he placed his hand over the red print Fred had made and pushed it open, he took a deep breath and entered.

He was welcomed with his bedroom at home, exactly as they had left it, clothes on the floor, beds unmade, joke shop ideas piled in boxes, photo frames littering the windowsill, posters and drawings covering the walls, he sat down on his bed and stared round at the room around him, taking in everything, remembering everything.

Everything he remembered played out in front of him like ghosts, he saw himself and Fred at a young age of 5, hiding under the bed from Percy when playing hide and seek, they had placed a bucket above the door to fall on him when he entered.

He saw them at age 9 sticking a picture to the wall which Ginny had drawn of them. Then he watched as the wall became covered in photos and more drawings as they got older.

He watched them at age 11, during the summer holidays before they started school, talking excitedly about Hogwarts, about the mischief they would cause and the friends they would make, while watching Ron get bitten on the nose by a garden gnome.

Then during the Easter holidays of their first year at Hogwarts, they both sat on Fred's bed, the marauders lap spread across their lap, shouting random words at it in hope that it would open, and laughing as Messes Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs insulted them, it had remained blank, until Fred had shouted, 'we're up to no good too you know!' then the map had flickered into life a little bit, but had gone out fairly quickly, then the marauders had given them clues, which really hadn't helped, until after playing round with words it finally opened.

He watched them at 16 planning what they would do with the money Harry had given them, and coming up with new inventions and plans for the joke shop they would build.

Then aged 18, clearing out everything they would take with them to their new home, which they would share, it was a short way from the joke shop so that they could access it easily. he watched as their mother bustled in carrying boxes and bags for them to store everything while they moved it all. he smiled fondly as he remembered how his mother had fussed over them, tears in her eyes as she watched two more of her sons leave. He remembered how he and his brother had joked and smiled with her, claiming that they would visit all the time, and would come and reek havoc whenever they did.

But it all seemed so pointless now, he was dead, their was no one to share the new house with no one could properly help him run the shop, Ron had offered, but it wouldn't be the same, nothing would be, could be the same.

"Fred why did you leave me?" He whispered to the memories in front of him. "It's not fair Freddie!" he shouted, "IT'S NOT FAIR!" he jumped up and knocked over the desk sending papers and half made inventions flying. "Why did you leave me? Why did you leave me?" he whispered, he collapsed to the floor, leant his head back on his bed and brought his legs up to his chest remembering how still and how lifeless Fred had looked, how he had died smiling, no-one like Fred should die like that, should die so young. "WHY FREDDIE!" he shouted again hitting the floor with his fist. "Why?" and he became lost in his memories, submerged in the smiles.

"I never chose to die." A voice whispered. "I never wanted this, you know that." The voice was quiet and gentle, the opposite of the angry one that had just been shouting at the thin air. This voice was gentle and sad, you could hear the silent tears bubbling up in his throat.

Fred looked down at his brother wishing that George could see him one last time, wishing that they could have a proper goodbye, instead of meeting in the great hall, with one, a lifeless statue and the other, eyes closed, clouded with tears. Fred sat down next to his brother and wrapped his arms round George embracing his brother in one last hug, but of course George couldn't feel it for Fred was just a ghost hanging onto the mortal world with just one last thread before he slipped away forever. "I'm going to miss you Georgie" he whispered, they just sat there for a while both lost in memories George shifted his position to cross legged Fred relaxed to, crossing his legs and resting his head on George's shoulder.

"It's silly isn't it," Fred sighed, "here we both are crying like babies, you and me. I never thought it would happen like this, I always imagined that we would die together, you 13 minutes before me, just like when we were born, evidently not." Fred smiled threw his tears, "can you remember it George? Can you remember it all? The pranks we pulled, the jokes we made, the laughter we created? I can, and I'm never going to forget them, and neither should you. Hold onto those memories George, the joke shop the puking pastels, all of it, everything we ever did, remember it, the smiles and the laughter, stay strong through those." He paused, silent contemplating all that he wanted to say.

"You have to move on Georgie, live your life, if you spend your days moping about me, you'll never be happy. Look after Angie for me, make sure she's safe and happy, and if you end up together you have my blessing. Have your own family, as big and as silly as ours, and make sure they're all ginger! Keep the joke shop running, stop that and I'll kill you. Don't go trying to kill yourself; that will get you nowhere. Whatever you do, don't stop smiling, don't stop laughing and most importantly don't stop living. Always irritate those around you, drive mum up the walls, teas little Roniekins about 'Mionie! I love you Georgie never forget that." Fred smiled shifting his position as George did,

"I have to go soon Georgie, but there's no need to worry about me, you go out and live your life, besides, I have Remus and Tonks to look after me now, though I think they need more looking after." He laughed, remembering meeting the couple in the great hall, staring at the world around them invisible to everyone. Remus had told Fred where George had gone, and then said, we'll meet you on the other side. Fred smiled and looked up at George who was still staring far away.

"I love you Georgie, I always will but you have to promise me that you won't get stuck on me and will go out and live your life. And if you don't, if you spend the rest of your life alone and lifeless, I will know, and I will come and find you and make sure you get up and go! I will always watch over you to make sure you're safe, to make sure you're happy." Fred got up and crouched in front of George and looked him straight in the eye, he knew that his brother couldn't see him, but to Fred it meant everything, to look George in the eye one last time, to see him face to face, to smile and look into the depths of his identical green eyes to his own. Now he knew he could move on, now he knew that it was time to say his final goodbyes, he knew that he could leave peacefully, that his brother would be ok.

He sighed and looked long and hard at George, taking in every detail of his brother that he wouldn't see again. "Mischief managed hey Georgie. But not for you, don't you ever stop being as troublesome as we always were." His body started to fade and he smiled, "I have to go now, be safe Feorge, be silly, be cheeky, be whatever you want to be and I know you'll be fantastic' he paused and smiled down at his brother as he stood up, "Goodbye Feorge." And with his last smile he was gone.

"Goodbye Gred."

Please let me know what you thought, reviews really encourage me to write story and it's always nice to hear back from you what you thought.