Two Halves to a Hole

"Don't touch me!" Fred was screaming, his lips stretched wide in a vicious, open-mouthed snarl; his eyes were rolling and flashing like a madman's, and the blood trickling down from his forehead and busted lip take away from this mental image.

"Do not fucking touch!" His voice was not even recognizable as Fred's anymore; the cry was so unfathomably frantic and desperate, chills ran up and down George's spine.

Meanwhile, the Death Eater thrashed.

"George! Hurry it up!" Tonks yelled over the continuing shrieks.

"George!" This time it was much more urgent, more concerned; but the room was spinning too fast for George to make out the speaker.

Fred was flailing his arms and legs like he was having an intense seizure; the Order members were clinging to him, trying, with some difficulty, to keep the red-head weighted down. Fred's right arm was freed momentarily before Mad-Eye threw his weight on top of it.

"George! For Merlin's sake, do it now!"

George could hear all these voices spiraling in his head; he could see the chaos escalating to a peak, gradually, as if in slow motion.

"Quickly someone grab him--yes, get the boy--wake him! Hurry!" Dumbledore's commanding voice rose over the rest of the din. The large tome in his hands trembled as the Headmaster embraced it, overlooking the skirmish.

Hermione, at Dumbledore's side, chimed it: "Try to get Fred closer!"
George felt a tug at his arm and turned to see Ron staring at him apprehensively.

"Are you alright?" Ron asked quietly.

"...yes..."

"Then why aren't you doing it?"

It being the spell.

George couldn't answer a question that he himself didn't know the answer to, and eventually, he felt himself being led forward, catching only glimpses and snatches of faces, sneers, murmurs, light, shuffles, and the perpetual screams of his brother.

Suddenly, he was there. They had jerked Fred down to his knees, his body bound by a combination of physical force and magic. His left forearm was stretched out in front of him, the mark taught and angry looking. This was it?

This?

Fred looked up. His smiles were gone. Only a smear of self-assurance was left--but those wide eyes told it all: Fear. Panic. Panic. Fear.

And then it was just the two of them.

Breathing.

Fred's large red eyes, his mouth partly opened with unspoken words.

His quivering cheeks, his involuntary twitches.

Just them...

Finally, "George...?" croaked from his battered lips. Fred momentarily swooned, his head rolling before he could jerk his chin back up, blearily staring up into George's eyes. "...m--my...George?"

George looked down at this identical face and wondered:

How? How did I get here?

He raised his wand and closed his eyes.

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Yesterday (could it have only been yesterday? Yes--yes must have been...) in the evening, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley had led George into deserted study on the Headquarters' second floor. Hermione had shut the door quietly, beckoning for the boys to sit down as she did so. The room was small and too brightly lit for its purposes, but did host a small sofa and a chair. George took the chair and looked expectantly between them.

"Well?"

"Keep your voice down. Fred's room is not too far down the hall," Hermione whispered.

"Hermione, it's not like the Dark Mark gives you super powers," Ron argued in his normal volume.

She glared back at him, the space between them on the couch growing by the second. "Oh really, Ron? It's funny you should say that, considering all the madness that's taken place over the last few days. But I forgot--you're the local expert on Death Eaters, aren't you?

"Maybe I should be--I have one as a brother, remember? Or maybe that's not good enough--maybe you have to be secretly snogging one--"

"Please....can you just tell me what you found?" interrupted George, his tone bordering on frustrated.

Hermione nodded and shut her eyes monetarily as if choosing the right words from her memory. "Yes, of course I can. It's actually pretty simple--see, Professor Dumbledore and I finished the counter-curse."

George blinked. "Really?"

"Yes, we did. But don't think it wasn't a nightmare, what with having to locate a good pair of Horned Skivvelback feet...but never mind. The point is that it's done and ready."

"What are we waiting for? How do we use it?" I can't believe it...after all this, there's an actual answer.

"Er--that's where it gets a bit odd. As you know, the counter curse will eradicate any manipulation You-Know-Who is having over Fred, but it won't get rid of the Dark Mark."

"Yea, but if Fred is all mind-controlled right now," chimed Ron. "And if the counter-curse takes that away, then there's no way Fred is going to want to keep the mark. He'll be himself again."

"The Mark doesn't go away, Ron--look at Professor Snape. He's working against You-Know-who, and he still has his."

"Okay--but you know what I mean. We can go back to normal."

"Ron, there are countless "what ifs" in the balance right now, no one can say what--"

"Give it a rest," Ron interrupted. For the briefest second, George saw Ron's façade of confidence slip, and he got a glimpse of a tired, tired little brother. For some reason, he found it to be encouraging rather then disappointing. I'm not the only one...

"Well, in any case," Hermione continued, casting a curious glance towards Ron, "Fred is going to have to deal with those issues on his own. The only thing we can do is get him to a point where his mind is clear, and let him make his own decisions."

Don't worry...he'll come back, George promised himself, rejuvenated by this latest bit of hope.

"So tell me about the spell," George replied, subconsciously lowering his voice.

"Not yet." Hermione replied. "There's something else you should know first."

Ron's mischievous smile returned. "Yea--this is the bloody greatest."

George just replied with an earnest look that overrode even Hermione's most cautious mental anxieties about speaking so openly about the matter.

"We know where your mum and sister are," she whispered. "The Order is retrieving them as we speak."

"What?" George's jay dropped. "How?"

"Snape told Dumbledore he could sense where You-Know-Who is," answered Ron before Hermione got the chance. "At first, I was like, 'that's sodding great, how come he hasn't used this trick before?' But Snape said that there are times when You-Know-Who wants to be heard by his servants or whatever. He puts out a 'frequency' type thing that alerts them when he needs them, an' they can follow it home," Ron whispered, still not managing to be very quiet. "I know its true 'cause Fred's mark was burning the whole time you were out. He was trying to play it off, but I could tell."

"Snape knew exactly where to find You-Know-Who? The Order is going in now?" George repeated, a little stunned by these consecutive revelations.

"Ron, he didn't know the exact location," Hermione corrected with an eye roll. "He had a vague feeling. It was a big effort on the Order's part to find the specific, I dunno, address."

Ron laughed suddenly; it was an unfamiliar sound and caused them all to jump. "You have to realize we've been told next to nothin'. The Order is not exactly willing to hand out information to underage wizards."

"That's true," Hermione agreed, smiling weakly. "We only know what we do because I was working so close with Dumbledore on the counter-curse. Professor Snape eventually realized we were still in the room when they started planning and we got kicked out."

"But Snape is still here with us...?" George pondered out loud.

"Yea, like anyone would want Snape fighting on their side," snorted Ron. "That would be a rather pathetic sight, don't you think?"

"Yes it would be," Snape's chilly voice interrupted their intense conversation.

It wasn't until they all sat up with a start that George realized how far they had leaned over to murmur hurriedly at one another. It must have looked excruciatingly conspirative to Snape, who stared at them with disdain from the hallway.

"Mr.Weasley is absolutely correct," he drawled. "It's much more difficult to rush into a situation, wands unsheathed, then to keep a lunatic Death Eater confined and in the dark for three straight hours and counting," he sniffed. "My job is a complete joy."

Ron looked away, cheeks pink, but Hermione piped up: "That's right. What have you told Fred he's waiting around for?"

Snape paused, hesitating as if not sure what he wanted to share with the three blights. Eventually though, his eyes slit and he muttered, "Dumbledore arranged to have a Ministy member come over to negotiate The Dark Lord's commands....as a precaution in you will."

"Who is it?" asked George, a sinking feeling in his gut.

"Author Weasley," Snape answered, smirking a little at the nauseas expressions on the three young wizard's faces.

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As predicted, Mr. Weasley's arrival and departure was as excruciating and drawn out as possible. It wasn't as if George didn't know why Dumbledore had asked his father to come talk to Fred; he knew full in well that Fred had to believe that his demands were being met along schedule. The Order couldn't afford to rouse any suspicion in the Death Eater's mind. And even though it was rather crude using his own father to "negotiate" with his own son, George could even see the reason for that. Knowing his dad, George knew Mr.Weasley would be longing for some way to help.

George must have realized in his mind somewhere that the Order had contacted his father and explained the situation to him. Still, George had been too wrapped up in the situation to think about how his other family members had reacted to the news of kidnap. Dumbledore had mostly likely used Author in this situation to give the desperate man something to do while the others were out. It made sense, considering Mr.Weasley worked for the Ministry and everything... yes, this all made sense...but it didn't make it any easier.

Like when his father walked out of the room where Fred was residing, after doing the false negotiations for over an hour, pale in the face and clutching his papers as if to squeeze blood from them. His bottom lip was trembling and his brow was mopped in sweat. His eyes read nothing but despair, disappointment, longing, fear, horror...that didn't make it any easier.

George could imagine how his brother reacted to his father during the process, and it made him queasy. Mr.Weasley walked out of the room, a handful of names written in his loopy handwriting across the pages of his documents, and an expression of devastation on his face. George wanted more then anything to reach out and embrace his father, tell him "I know how you feel," and reassure him everything was going to be alight.

But his fingers had barely brushed his father's robes when Author turned to look at George, for the first time acknowledging his other son since he'd arrived. "Oh..." he breathed, a little unnerved to see such an opposite expression on such an identical body. And then the disappointment flooded back across his pale face--it was a look of disparagement that could not be hidden. George's hand fell to his side, and he could almost read his fathers thoughts. Why didn't you take care of your brother? Your supposed to take care of your brother...your are supposed to know, you were supposed to watch...

When Mr.Weasley remained silent, opting only to nod at his son, George stopped and let Snape take over the conversation. The twin eventually slipped away, shame burning on his face. It hurt when everything he was doubting in himself was confirmed by someone else he loved. He hadn't spoken to his father in a long while, and now the gap between him and the man he had once cared so dearly for felt like an ocean's width across. And he missed Fred so deeply...no, none of these things made the situation any easier.

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~"Now what were they going on about?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her face scrunched in confusion. She pushed the hair that had fallen out of her bun away from her eyes, leaving a smear of flour along her cheek. She looked at him questioningly, motioning to the fire from where Harry and George had just disappeared from as soon as Fred had entered the room.

Ginny had come around from behind him, holding his sleeve in her hand as she did so, a tender motion spurned from her concern. She looked up at him and he smiled reassuringly.

"They've gone..." she muttered. "Why do you think they've gone so quickly?"

"Fred, why does your brother think you're in trouble? What on earth was that about? What have you done now?" his mother hounded, unwilling to drop the subject.

Fred slipped out his wand, the kind smile still plastered on his face like a sticky charm.

The he hexed them both.

They fell; his mother's eyes registering fear right before she slumped to ground, narrowly missing the countertop. Ginny had gone even easier, collapsing easily, but not releasing his cloak until he pried her small fingers from its worn-out fabric.

Fred had smiled then, a real smile. He felt a glow inside his chest warm and flicker. His master was happy...and it had been so easy.

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Next there was a dim room that smelt of burned anchovies, a wet fungus coloring the cobblestone floor black. There was a dim light. There was a snake. There was a short, fidgety man, stooping over two sleeping women and giggling quietly to himself. There was a hooded figure. Master. Fred smiled and reached out his arm, his fingers outstretched towards the Dark Lord, wanting so badly to touch, but still disciplined enough not to. But then the dreaded rodent-thing spoke up...always talking...always stealing master's attention...little sick spore...

"Master, the Weasley boy has done well--this is his mother and sister. Now we can start negotiations, just as planned! There's no way Dumbledore wont give release your servants in Azkaban now."

"Yes..." replied Voldemort, his voice soft and high pitched from under his hood. "It is quite refreshing having a servant that can do what he's asked, isn't it Peter?"

Fred beamed at the Dark Lord, the warmth spreading across his chest at his mere mention. The rodent flushed, scrambling up from where he was crouched over, chaining the unconscious Mrs.Weasley's wrists together.

"Master--come on," he squeaked. "I'm your most loyal servant--you're most trusted--aren't I? The only one that stayed by your side all this time? By my own free will, remember?" He motioned towards Fred meaninglyfully.

Fred laughed out loud, echoing the cold sound across the cave. Absurd. He knew that he was completely free--it didn't matter what the rat thought.

"That is true, Peter," Voldemort answered softly. "But there is something to be said for sacrifices." His long fingers gestured to the limp bodies and Fred standing beside them, the twin's eyes glinting red in the light. And then He drifted slowly to the red-head, placing those same slender fingers on the boy's narrow shoulders and staring into his eyes. Fred's smile turned childish and he swooned on his feet, leaning into the Dark Lord so that his face was brushing the fabric of His cloak. The frigid embrace, the scent of power, the promises of things to come...his master was pleased with him. Fred was so contented for that moment he could just die--just slip away at any moment and not regret it.

"I've made sacrifices too..." Peter Pettigrew murmured, looking jealously at the embrace and returning to the binding of the captives.

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~Fred's eyes were wide ad his breathing ragged. His wand was out, but he was sprawled on his back against the floor. The fungusy floor of a...a cave? He had just been taking a walk in the Ally late at night...but why? Why now? Why me for Merlin's sake?

A shadowed figure in log robes stood over him. The glow of its own wand was peering out from the shallow threads of its sleeves.

"Don't worry yourself," came a voice from the folds of the hood. It was soft and too high-pitched to belong to someone of its stature. "You've been chosen, Fred Weasley."

"Ch-chosen?" Fred felt the wand between his fingers quiver...if only he could remember a decent spell! Don't tell me Hermione's been right all this time about not finishing Hogwarts! But his mind was simply blank--it was taking every nerve he had to remain calm. Something heavy...something dark was radiating from this figure, and Fred had a nauseatingly clear vision of who had captured him.

"There's no need to shake like that, boy," the figure said, that high voice tilting upwards in...laughter? "Because I am the only one who know what you've been thinking.."

No, that wasn't right either... "Er...I have a brother..." Fred muttered, nearly slapping himself in the head for saying something so stupid. No kidding, Fred, you have five brothers, remember?

"Yes, I know about that one," He answered, and long slender fingers reached out of the folds to brush back Fred's wild hair. The twin's eyes sparked in response. "The one that looks like you but doesn't think like you. I know it will be difficult to say goodbye to that one...but perhaps one day he can be chosen as well." Voldemort's wand reemerged. "But today is your day."

Fred looked up at the suddenly rising wand, suddenly scrambling to flee.

But then there was a light...and then screaming...echoes upon echoes of screaming.

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George spasmed himself off the couch and landed with a thud on the wooden floor. Hermione was at his side in an instant, quickly asking questions about his physical and mental condition and worriedly checking him over. But George could only hear murmurs as she did so--his mind was still reeling from everything he had just seen...his vision was clouded and his mind confused. Suddenly, he grabbed the bushy-haired girl by the shoulders, stopping her assault mid-sentence.

"I'm seeing things," he told her. "I'm seeing very real things that I shouldn't be--they didn't happen to me but I'm still seeing them...and feeling them," he added, shuttering at the feeling of The Dark Lord--no, Voldemort's--embrace. He knew he was babbling, but he couldn't stop. "I've been seeing all these things that have happened to Fred...its all out of order and broken up, but its clear as day."

He felt a cup be pressed to his lips, and as the cool water poured down his ragged throat, George realized it had been his first drop of anything in...well, a while.

"I know," Hermione answered, and she sat back. "You've been yelling in your sleep for a while now."

"I passed out? Again?" he asked.

She nodded. "Right after your dad left. But it's to be expected, because of the spell."

"Spell?" he asked, realizing for the first time that they were alone together in the Order's study.

"Ron and Professor Snape went to detain Fred," she answered before he could ask. "He's on to us now--his mark has been burning and he's been screaming all sorts of things. I hope that's to mean the Order is succeeding wherever they are...Anyway, Fred's been throwing quite a fit--it's taken everyone that's left in Headquarters to keep him from hurting others or himself... I just hope he's not in too much pain." Her brow furrowed. "We've kept him in the dark about our plan, but it's unlikely that You-Know-Who didn't see the ambush coming. I just can't wait for them to get back."

George nodded, the silence of their joint anticipation lasting for several seconds before George could remember his initial question.

"You said my visions were to be expected because of the spell? You mean the counter-curse, right?"

Hermione blinked. "Right. We never got a chance to explain before how the spell is connected to you."

George groaned.

"Don't be like that. It's not going to hurt you." she smiled. "The curse itself is about singling out memories, right? All of the thoughts that Fred had before his life as a Death Eater have been pushed aside to make way for the "evil" him. It's only without these memories that You-Know-Who can use him. So what we needed to do--what the counter-curse does, essentially--is to return Fred's non-Death Eater memories to him."

"What does that have to do with me?" George asked angrily, pushing himself off the floor.

"Well...the only thing that the spell can do is prep the subject--Fred--for er...the memory restoration. It has to be triggered by an incantation and a powerful memory. That's where you come in."

George watched her nervously chew her lip as this last bit of news sank in.

"Wait--are you saying that I'm the one who has to perform the most crucial step in the entire spell?" his voice was rising quickly now.

"It's not that difficult--the spell just needs reciting, and you need to think of a strong memory you two shared before all this. The spell will take care of the rest."

"Have someone else do it!" he yelled, avoiding her piercing gaze.

"What? Why? You actually trust someone else to come up with a memory powerful enough to jump-start the spell? Who else in the world knows Fred the way you do?" Hermione was very baffled--she had never factored George in as a liability to the plan, and his hesitance alarmed her. She didn't want to stress him out, but his action in the counter-curse was essential.

"Because what if I do it wrong? What if I choose the wrong memory?" George yelled. "I would rather lose him forever to the Dark Lord then to know I was the one who put him there!"

Hermione stared at him for a moment, taken aback. Finally, "There's no choice anymore, George. We made the spell factoring you in as the conduit. It's too late."

A door slammed downstairs and loud voices quickly flooded the Black family home from the ground up. Hermione's eyes snapped up to George's.

"They're back. It's time."

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~Dumbledore looked on with his mouth twisted into a curious expression. "So you don't want to join the Order?"

"Why would we want to join the Order?" Fred asked, shifting in one of the Headmaster's office chairs. George looked at his twin sitting beside him and nodded, allowing his brother to speak.

"I'm quite sorry, then. I had only assumed that since your parents and your brothers had had joined, you two would be close to follow."

"We have no interest in it," Fred snapped. George covered for this brusque answer by quickly adding:

"We're opening up our own shop, Headmaster, and I don't think we'd be able to do both at the same time. Of course, it's not like we won't still be here to help if you need us..."

"But I'm sure we'll be very, very busy," Fred quickly threw in, standing up and avoiding George's questioning look.

"Well then," Dumbledore stated, folding his bony fingers together, "The two of you are officially withdrawn from Hogwarts as of today. I thank you for your tenure and wish you the best of luck in your entrepreneurship."

"Thank you," Fred said, standing up and walking briskly out of the office. George smiled sympathetically at the Headmaster, who responded with a smile and a wink of his own.

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~Hermione tipped her neck back, smiling up at the red head. It had been a week since she had seen him last--he was out and about so often now that she barely had time to speak to him. It was good to have him back, no matter how short his stay would be.

She knew that something was wrong--she was by no means stupid, and all the signs pointed to trouble. But she also wasn't nosy. I don't have any right to that information yet, she told herself. If she was right, and if it was indeed a problem, then she felt reassured in knowing all problems could be solved given a little time and some scratch paper. Right now she was just glad he was being his friendly self again, holding her tightly behind the register. He blew against her ear and she smiled, stretching up on her toes, reaching out her arms...

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"George! Hey--are you with me?" Hermione's real face was harshly clear when George snapped open his eyes. He was standing on the stairwell with her, overlooking the several Order members that were walking beneath them. He had just had another bout of Fred's memories, each tasting sourer then the last.

"Why am I seeing things from Fred's memories?" he asked, swallowing.

"I'm not sure," she answered truthfully. "Maybe because I activated the first part of the spell when you were knocked out before? That's got to mean there's a connection between you two now."

"Oh...you finished your part of the spell? So all that's left is my part? The incantation bit?"

"Mmm hmm..." she muttered absently, suddenly tugging on his sleeve and leading him downstairs. "It's time to finish this."

"Yea..."he muttered, trying to absorb the smallest amount of her confidence.

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He raised his wand and closed his eyes. Fred had thrashed himself to pieces; infuriated at being tricked, horrified at disappointing his master, furious and hateful to anyone who had laid a hand on him. But now he was on his knees, restrained and limp against the force of so many.

And now it was George's turn to have everyone watch him. I have to solve this? Me, the one who would join Fred rather then fight him? I was already halfway there in my mind! There is no way I can...

But that was no way for a Weasley twin to think. No way at all. Fred wouldn't like that train of thought one bit. They had a reputation to maintain.

Fred stared up at him blankly, and suddenly all George wanted...needed was to be alone with his brother; to take care of him, to protect him from everything, to make him smile again...and then Hermione handed George a piece of parchment and he knew what he had to do.

He cleared his throat and began to read the incantation. He stumbled over his words and mumbled a good deal of the time, but still the words got out:

Athelcius Levious Kervadius

Give back what you have taken

Levinous Ulcius Remembrus

It is his and not yours.

He is not one of those

Endless waves who will forever wash up their shame

Ilnon Yesious Valkadiousis

He is not a wandering star

Who for the darkest blackness is reserved forever.

Kervadius, Valkadiousis, Remembrus

It is his and not yours.

George's wand tip lit up in fushia blaze before igniting completely and hurtling itself into Fred's chest. The Order members holding onto the Death Eater were practically blown over in its wake, but it didn't matter much anymore. Fred wasn't going anywhere--he was struck numb, the ball of light spinning into his chest slowly, blowing his hair back gently and casting purple shadows along his cheek bones.

"Fred!" George cried, falling onto his knees as well. He reached out to the light, but pulled back when Fred looked up. For the first time in countless days, George felt that this was Fred--the real, whole Fred meeting eyes with his twin.. It was enough clarity to bring tears to George's eyes.

"Mr.Weasley!" Dumbledore interrupted.

Right...the memory.

George shuffled closer to Fred, getting as close as he could get before feeling the orb of light pulsating them apart.

"Um, Fred..." he began. Hermione nodded encouragingly. It felt extremely silly with all these people standing around, watching. But still, it had to be done.

"Fred, remember the first time I walked in on you and Angelina kissing in the library at school? Er--this was a while back mind you, because it was the first time either of us had done that..." Crikey, this is embarrassing. "Um...and for some reason I got really mad at you, and wouldn't talk to you for two whole days. Do you remember that? My punishment was more awful for me then you, I think," he chuckled. "Finally when you asked me about it, I told you I was jealous...of her." The red-head avoided everyone's eyes now, opting to bore a hole into the floor with his eyes. He hadn't had any time to practice for this. "God, I know how bizarre that sounded to you. The flicker in your eye had told me I had said something horribly loony. But I had been jealous--you were the closest friend anyone could ever have from the moment I was born into existence, and now someone else--practically some stranger in comparison--was getting to share something with you I never had..." George laughed. "And it's not like I wanted to do that particularly. It wasn't like that--it was just the idea of the thing that infuriated me. How dare she share something with you and leave me out? How dare you toss me aside so quickly for time with someone else?" George's fingers clenched. This was getting too painful. "But I had been wrong, and both of us knew it. I was so scared that you wouldn't talk to me again...but then you did. You laughed out loud. I remember that because it shocked me so much. I didn't understand how you could take the situation so lightly. And you told me...you said that it wouldn't always be just the two of us. You said that you and I would both get girlfriends sooner or later, and eventually we'd even start families or something horribly bizarre like that. You said, our lives would come and go...and then you said "but you never have to worry, because you'll never get rid of me. I need you more then you need me, you daft cow." You had never said anything like that before...and it made me feel so good...And I like to think that it was your way of promising that while other things change, our friendship never would...and it never has...and it meant so much..." George looked up to Fred's wide eyes. Then he looked around him at the sea of faces. "There...?" he murmured, feeling the blush that started at his ears start spread down his neck. "I don't know if th-that's your best memory Fred, but it's definitely mine."

Suddenly the ball of light broke and George lost his balance, falling forward into his brother. The light had entered into the Death Eater, and now he glowed faintly of the same color all over. George clung tight until the last of the light shimmered completely from Fred's body. He didn't know how long he stayed, clutching so desperately like that, and he didn't know what was said while he did. Hell--he didn't even know what had to be done that night to get Fred back to him, and he certainly didn't know f what he had said was enough...so he held on for dear life. And it was his life that was in the balance. He was holding onto everything he had left, and could only hope to God it would last just one moment longer.

Finally, Fred shifted his shoulders, and George pulled back, afraid and trembling. But when Fred stood up, George knew the curse had been lifted. Fred, essentially, had all his pieces back in place. It was suddenly clear. George could feel the clouds lift the way you do after a crisis has passed you by...inexplicable relief. But Fred wasn't smiling. He looked around at them all...at Dumbledore, Hermione, Tonks, Mad Eye, Ron, Harry...and he was drained. Fred slowly shrugged off the blood-colored garment that had been his attire these past few days, and let it slip to the floor. He focused back on his twin, and slowly outstretched his arm towards him...that is, until he saw the Dark Mark curled on his forearm. At its sight, Fred jerked it back, yanked down his sleeve, and mumbled to anyone and everyone:

"I'm so sorry." The whisper was drenched in shame.

Turning on his heel, he mumbled something about going back home, and he walked out.

And even as George watched him go, even as the guilt that now plagued his brother saddened George to the core, even as he realized the time it would take to restore the laughter that had once sprung so readily from Fred, even though the connection between them might never be as strong as it once had been, George knew that his brother would indeed be going home. And George knew he would follow him home to their apartment over the Wheeze--he knew he would sit beside his twin on the bed in silence, ready to hear whatever needed to be said...

It might never be the same.

But Fred was back.

And that would be enough.

THE END

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