Wildflowers and Balloons

A/N: Thank you to my lovely, wonderful betas, hyseion and lathinia.aqualina. I love you guys :3

He had brought flowers.

It was stupid, now. A pointless gesture. He had never particularly liked flowers, other than as fuel for transfiguration pranks. But, Fred had always liked them. Especially wildflowers. So he'd dragged himself out to Mum's garden and carefully, gently picked a few, carrying them into the Burrow and putting them in a vase, a stupid, sodding vase. He'd trudged up to the burial plot on the hill because he'd never been good at apparating with things in his hands. Then, just as he was going to put them in front of the headstone, the bloody vase had slipped out of his hands. It'd shattered on the ground, the water trickled away, and the flowers lay there, wilting.

He turned them into balloons with a jab of his wand. It seemed more fitting. Fred liked balloons. Fred had liked balloons.

The sun was setting. The headstone cast a long shadow down the hill. He thought about just turning around, walking away, and getting out of here. Hell, he didn't know what he was doing. He had never been awkward around his twin before, but this wasn't Fred. This was a granite stone with Fred's name on it. It couldn't even talk. Ivy was starting to grow up around it. How long it'd been since his last visit? It would have to be about seven years now, wouldn't it?

He sat down on the crest of the hill, next to the stone, facing the setting sun. He drew his knees up to his chest and put his arms around them. "Hey Fred. How are you?"

The stone didn't answer.

"I guess you must be okay. Everyone says that's what dying's supposed to be like, eh?" The sunset sky was brilliant. "You're probably up there laughing your arse off and eating bon bons." He could see the town spread out below them in the valley, beginning to shut down for the night. "Shop's doing fine, thanks for asking." Stupid. It hadn't. "Alex thinks we should expand. Maybe set up another shop in Hogsmeade." An ant crawled onto George's knee. He flicked it off. "Alex is the new partner. He's nowhere near as fun as you." The ant crawled back on. "What do you think? Maybe we could get some clients from the school? They always liked Zonkos...we're twice as good, now." The stone sat there and didn't say anything. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too. We're too good to need to expand." The ant was still there. He let it onto the tip of his wand. "Rose's and Albus's graduation is tomorrow. Ginny and Hermione both told me they'd kill me if I didn't come." The ant scrambled up the wand as he turned it absentmindedly. "Rose is so beautiful, Fred. She's got our eyes. Ron knows it--he sends me photographs of just her, smiling, and it's like I'm looking right at you. I haven't forgotten what you looked like." The ant fell off. "Stupid thing to say. Every time I look in a mirror or catch my reflection out of the corner of my eye I think I see you." The wind had picked up--he pulled his wool cloak around his shoulders. "Harry got asked to be Minister of Magic last week. He turned it down--said being Hogwarts' youngest headmaster in a century was enough of a handful. And Ginny's pregnant again! I'm hoping for another girl. Remember that bet we made in fourth year, Fred? And whoever lost had to name his first girl Dumbledora?" He couldn't find the ant anymore. "You lost, I think. Bloody pity. Would have been funny." The sunset was making the sky orange, like Fred's hair. "Neville and Hermione both got commendations from the Ministry for Outstanding Services to Hogwarts. Hermione's teaching six classes there, Fred. Six! We couldn't even take six classes at a time, I can't imagine what it'd be like to teach them." He was quiet for a long time. "I'm always 'me' when I think of myself now. Ever since you left there's been no 'us'. I've been so lonely, Fred. You can't even imagine how lonely I've been."

The sun had almost completely set now. "God, Fred, I'm not okay. Every morning I wake up and I think of something funny and I want to share it with you and I can't. You're not sodding there." Silence. "Bloody selfish of you. Going off and leaving me all alone like this. How the hell am I supposed to get on without you? Everyday is horrible, jarring, and it aches...like I'm missing part of myself." The stone didn't answer. "Damn, like right now, I need you and you can't even be fagged to answer me. You just sit up there in Heaven or Hell or wherever you sodding are and you look down here and you never even bother to let me know you're okay." The silence seemed like it was rebuking him. "Like hell, Fred. You never answered. If you're so goddamned holy and peaceful now you'd think they'd let you take a day off to come and see your ruddy brother." Now the silence was just silent. "Bloody inconsiderate. Just...you've gotta come back. I can't do this. I need you..." He was shouting now, "I NEED YOU! Can't you see that? Come down here and talk to me straight! Fred!" He was on his feet, staring into the sky, tears streaming down his face, his long red hair flopping into his face. "FRED! COME DOWN HERE, YOU BLOODY BASTARD! You bloody bastard..." Silence fell once again. Fred didn't answer. He heard a call from the bottom of the hill and turned to see a female figure waving. "Hey, I got married, Fred. It's been four years now. You'll never guess to who." Fred didn't guess. "Angelina Jones. I know! Don't be mad. We've got a kid, too--a little girl. We've named her Frederica, but mostly we just call her Freddie. I hope you don't mind." He gently brushed the ant off the top of the headstone, but it clung on. "She's two now, the spitting image of you. Well, us. Me." He was silent for a while. "You."

With a wave of his wand he turned the balloons back into flowers and stuck them in the repaired vase, because Fred had always liked flowers. Then he turned and walked down the hill to join his wife and child. If he'd looked back, he might have seen a smiling figure sitting on the headstone--a tall figure with red hair and a mischievious grin. He might've seen that...but then again, it may have been just an ant.