Work Text:
George sighed, turning and turning in the bed.
His mind refused to shut down, despite the hour, late in the night.
Sighing again, George looked at the ceiling. There was a burn mark up there beside the window. George smiled, thinking about how he got there, that sign.
"I tell you, Forge, this is every teenager's dream!" Fred was enthusiastically waving the package of their prototype fireworks, improved over those manufactured and sold by Zonko.
"And I'm telling you, Gred, that formula, for now, will blow everything up, and not just the fireworks like we want." George shook his head, resuming his calculations. "We need to review the Potion, in my opinion."
Fred snorted. "Nonsense, here, leave me just..."
"Fred, no!"
George's scream came too late and Fred lit the fire anyway, grinning enthusiastically as the flame neared its final fuse.
BOOM!
"Boys, what's going on up there!" Their mother's voice reached the upper floors, and the two boys replied, at the same time, "the ghoul dropped something on the floor, mom!"
An approval from their mother allowed Fred and George to concentrate on the main problem. Meaning the huge burn above the window jamb. And the hole in the wall.
"Shall we call Charlie?" Fred asked and George nodded. "I'll write to him right away."
George chuckled, shaking his head. Charlie had been frankly impressed by the explosion they had caused. He had said that he had rarely seen such a situation and he worked with dragons. He'd even checked the potion's recipe with them and pointed out where the mistake was, refusing to correct it for them. George had always been convinced it was because Charlie enjoyed being called on every time to clean up their messes. Fred was convinced that their older brother was just a sadist at heart.
George stopped smiling, thinking that Fred was no longer there with him. He turned away, wanting only to ignore the physical signs of his presence. His gaze, away from the window, fell on the mirror.
"We need to decorate this space somehow." George nodded, at a time when they hadn't yet come up with their nicknames and had no other way to call themselves other than the ones mom had given them.
Fred murmured. "We should put a mirror right here. Big enough to show us both at the same time!"
George snorted and asked. "Why?"
"Well, you know, to see how our clothes fit? Or how tall we are? Or…or other things."
"See how the clothes fit? Fred, we look alike! I can use you to see what would look good on me and you can do the same with me!"
Fred shrugged. "Can we use it to practice each other's impressions?"
George murmured. "That's a good idea." He cocked his head. "All body figures, we decided. So… cool."
Fred nodded. "Let's go get it from the broom shed, come on. I've seen one!"
The two children had run into the shed and taken the mirror, proud of their idea and their shot.
But when they were busy assembling it, George cursed as the mirror fell to the floor, chipping the frame.
"At least you didn't break the mirror. Seven years of bad luck and all." Fred said and George asked. "And for the frame?"
"Three and a half?" Fred proposed, laughing immediately afterwards. George joined him, grateful that their mom wasn't home at that moment. She wouldn't be happy for the broken frame.
George chuckled softly, pulling back and set his eyes on a photo, on the bedside table. It was him and Fred in their third year, with Harry sitting between them, genuinely surprised. George smiled, remembering what had happened that time.
" Fred, can you help me with Potions?"
Fred and George looked up at Harry Potter, little Ronnie's best friend, Gryffindor Seeker and Boy Who Lived.
"Sure," George smiled, exchanging a look with Fred, both ready with their usual jokes. "Come on, let's get started right now."
Harry looked embarrassed. He looked at Fred and said. "Uh…I wish Fred could help me, George. No offense." Harry raised his hands in surrender. "I'm sure you're…very good. And prepared. I just…I mean, Lee told me Fred was better…"
George and Fred exchanged a look.
"Do you know that I'm Fred?" Fred asked and Harry narrowed his eyes.
"Is that a tricky question?"
Fred shook his head and Harry nodded. "You're Fred. You have a mole under your ear that George doesn't have." Seeing their confused looks, Harry reached out to indicate the mole in question. "See? There's a little difference."
George checked Fred's ear, nodding when he saw the mole. Fred did the same to George, but shook his head, a sign that George didn't have a mole.
They both turned smiling to Harry.
Harry, for his part, took a step back, a wise move, according to the two Weasleys.
"Young Harry," George said.
"you've just been promoted to our favorite Gryffindor,"
"and favorite Hogwarts student."
Harry smiled at the two. "Thanks, I suppose."
"You're welcome." Fred smiled. "And we'll start it all off with a beautiful and very long lesson on Potions."
Harry looked at him relieved. "Will you help me?"
Fred winked at him. "Absolutely. Come here, Harry."
George smiled. The photo had been taken after Fred's lesson, which Harry had followed with extreme attention and dedication.
Fred had always complained to George when he realized how Snape was penalizing Harry for no reason whatsoever. Part of Fred was so proud of the progress Harry had made.
George snorted. Who was he kidding? They were both so proud of their honorary younger brother.
Speaking of honorary younger brothers… George saw a shadow in front of his door pass silently, heading for the lower floors.
Their home, while warm and welcoming, was also extremely noisy. None of his siblings or parents would have been able to walk like that without making a single sound. All except the raven boy.
George looked out the window, after getting up with difficulty from the bed, his gaze away from his reflection on the mirror.
In fact, there in front of the pond, Harry watched the moon in the sky. George was even surprised that he could figure out where he was looking. It was probably due to him lying on his back. He could only look at the sky.
With a sigh, George grabbed a sweatshirt and walked down the stairs, trying not to make a sound yet sure he had.
Not that it was a problem. No Weasleys were light sleepers. Well, except Harry.
"Harry?"
Harry looked at him, pulling himself up slightly to look at him. He smiled. "George."
George took that smile as an invitation, and sat down next to him.
"What brings you here? Bad dreams?"
"Too quiet." Harry shrugged. "I was used to silence before, yet now..."
"It feels wrong." George nodded, looking up at the full moon. He had lost Fred, but Harry had also lost Remus, the last figure he could call a father. He was now also godfather to little Teddy. "Will it ever hurt less?"
Harry looked at him, sitting up and staring George intently into his eyes.
"Losing someone close." George clarified. "Does it ever hurt less?"
Harry sighed. "It's like… a scar." His hand rested for a moment on his lightning bolt scar on his forehead, as if to apologize to anyone for the comparison. "After a while, it stops bleeding, but in bad weather it always stretches a little bit."
George grimaced. "Is not pleasant."
"No, it is not." Harry nodded.
George looked at him. "Couldn't you tell me that it was easy and that everything disappeared in a short time?"
"No. Because I would have lied to you and we don't do it between us." Harry replied. "Honestly, I'm glad it always hurts a little."
"Why?"
"Because it means that his presence mattered. That he wasn't just an extra in your life." Harry shrugged. "That you weren't just an extra in his."
George stopped. "And how can I bear the pain?"
"Memories. The good times you spent together. The serious times you spent together. The talks, the places you saw together."
George sighed. "Nobody wants to remember him with me."
"Nobody wants to talk about Sirius, my parents, Remus, Colin. Nobody likes to talk about the people who left us without making them martyrs. And martyrs are too far away from us."
"I miss him." George choked on his breath. "I had him and everything seemed good. And now that I don't have him… everything seems empty."
"I know." Harry hugged him. "And I know it's not the same, but I'm here with you."
George looked at him hopefully.
"Can you tell me about him, you know?" Harry smiled, then looked up. "One night I was scared of the full moon and Fred decided that pretending to be a werewolf and scaring the shit out of me was a good way to get me through it."
George chuckled. "He was a genius."
"You both are." Harry nodded. "And it was very effective. The fear went away."
George laughed, feeling lighter.
It might never be the same again, but he would live. For him and for Fred. He had two lives to lead.