Fred,

Crash; the sound of thousands of bricks being blown out of the walls, being blown to smithereens. Cries for help, mournful cries for the dead. A bloodcurdling scream of sheer agony; was it from my own mouth? Several months later, and I'm still unsure of whether or not it was I who uttered that horrifying, bone-chilling sound.

You were the older twin, born exactly three minutes before me. I'd always figured that I would die exactly three minutes after you. Therefore, we'd have lived for precisely the same amount of time. It's been almost four million minutes since May 2nd, 1998, every minute worse than the previous one. I'm showing no signs of nearing death; physically, mum says I'm "healthy as a horse." Physically being the operative word.

Why did you have to be the hero? Why couldn't you have had the good sense to run, like the rest of us? You didn't have to sacrifice yourself; you could've let Percy die like he was supposed to. We may be related by blood, Fred, but he's no brother of mine. A brother sticks by his family, especially during times of struggle. A brother supports his parents and his siblings. A brother wouldn't have nearly abandoned his family and thrown himself into work like Percy did. But what is work, really? Work wasn't even close to half as bad when you were here, Fred. When you were here, work didn't feel like work.

I still can't believe that we didn't have a funeral for you, Fred. But Mum said you wouldn't have wanted us to sit there in the church grieving over you for hours on end. She said it was better that I wasn't there for your burial. She was right; that has to be one of the worst things imaginable, that has. Never mind watching your brother die right before your eyes; watching shovelful after shovelful of dirt rain down on an elaborately carved wooden box inscribed "F.F.W." would have to be one of the worst possible things I could ever have even imagined witnessing.

Blimey, Fred, why did you have to go? Why did it have to be you? Why not someone else? Better yet, why not anyone at all? What if there hadn't been a war, Freddie? We'd be down at the shop right now. Or maybe we'd be playing a good old-fashioned game of Quidditch in the backyard. We could even be cooking with mum right about now. Remember the time that dad brought home something called a toaster? Remember how we tried to make toast for hours, and then we realized that it needed something called ecklektricity? I hope you do, Freddie. I know I do.

Mum said that writing this letter to you would help. She said that even though you couldn't actually read it, that I'd feel much better once I'd gotten everything off my chest. She lied, Fred. Writing this makes me realize how much I truly miss you. I miss the way that you always knew when I was upset, while everyone else believed the mask of happiness I'd wear. I miss not having to look in the mirror to get ready in the morning; I could look to you and know that we were identical, right down to the very last freckle. I miss finishing each others' sentences. I even miss serving detention together on a Friday night with Snape, when we could be at Zonko's.

I know that this isn't goodbye, Freddie. It's more like a "see you later." Though we've parted ways for now, I know we'll meet again someday. Hopefully, someday soon. I don't know how much longer I can wait for you. I can't live like this. Mum and Angelina are clearly worried, and I can tell that Roxanne and Fred II are starting to wonder what's been going on with me. Oh, didn't I tell you? Angelina and I are married; we have a family now. She makes me so happy, Fred. When I'm with her, it feels like the gap in my heart has been temporarily filled. She brings the light back to my eyes and the love back into my heart. I remember when we were twelve, still calling girls "icky." I remember saying that I'd never get married, that I'd never want to be tied down like that. Boy was I wrong, Fred. I love this feeling.

Before I go, there's one last thing that I need to tell you. I know we didn't say it very often; saying these words to each other was a rarity, indeed. Freddie, I love you so much; I really do. I love the way you complete me like no one else can, the way you could always tell exactly what was on my mind. I miss the way we pranked everyone we'd ever met, the way everyone expected mayhem from us. We were the Dynamic Duo, Fred. I'm nowhere near dynamic, now.

By the way, daffodils were your favorite, right? I'm popping over to the centre of Ottery St. Catchpole for a bit; hopefully, there's a decent florist around. Maybe I'll get the variety bouquet; you always were one for spontaneity and randomness.

Take care, Freddie.

Always missing you,

George