A/N: Inspired by the song "If you're reading this" by Tim McGraw. I hope it's not too soppy, I tried to make it sound like something Fred would actually write. Not my best piece of work I'm afraid but I had to get it out of my head cause it distracted me too much from uni ;) I hope you like it after all.

To George, in case I don't make it through.

Dear George,

if you're reading this, it means that I had to leave you, and for that I am so sorry. I never meant for this to happen, and I don't know what went wrong. But what can I say mate, life's a dangerous gig, and it seems that this time the joke's on me. Pretty lame joke though, I can't see the funny side of that. Okay, except if I'd snuffed it slipping on a Ton-Tongue Toffee, now that would indeed be funny! Come on, don't give me that look, you know it would. "Joke shop owner killed by purple sweets", what a headline in the Prophet!

Oh yes I admit it, that was not one of my best jokes, I give you that. In fact, it's not funny at all.

George, I don't know what happened, all I know is that for some reason, someone decided it was my time to go. I don't know who's responsible for those decisions but I swear if I meet that git I'll kick his ass big time and then get the hell out of whereever I am. It was not my time. I had so many plans, involving the shop, our shop, and Angelina, and... wait, did I just say that? Uh, seems like it. Then again, who am I fooling, you always knew it, didn't you? Can't keep a secret from you. Anyway, now that I started it – if you meet Ange tell her that when I said "I'd rather die than be without you", I didn't mean literally. Tell her I knew she had her reasons and that I understand – or something like that. Just don't tell her how absolutely gorgeous she looks, she'll jinx you. Don't tell her she does not look gorgeous either, she'll kill you. Hm, come to think of it, at least you'd be here with me then!

I was kidding, George. Or trying to. Don't you dare think of doing something stupid. But you wouldn't, I know you wouldn't. It's always been me who did the really crazy, stupid things. Uh, I can almost hear Great Aunt Muriel say, "And look where it got you!", old hag... just make sure that she keeps her mouth shut at the

I can't say that. Or write it, for that matter. I can't. Funny, isn't it, one might think that writing about this should give you the time to clear the mess in your head, but I can't. I don't want to think about it.

Will you say something... then? I hope so, but if you do, please do me that one favour and leave out the embarassing bits. Remember, it'll all fall back on you cause you were always there, so it's just as embarassing for you in the end. And believe me, Mum wouldn't be too amused if you told everyone about those boils we had on our... well, you know. Urgh, even the thought makes me shudder. But after all, the stuff sold well, so it might have been worth it. Sometimes you gotta take the risk no matter how painful it will be.

Don't shake your head. You know we had to take that risk, and you also know, deep inside, than none of us would have done it any other way. Our family isn't made for staying behind, we have that Weasley-action-adventure-kind of gene inside of all of us. Okay, maybe Percy doesn't, not sure. Oh by the way, if that ministry-loving prat finally decides to at least be there for – you know –, then be fair and don't shout down at him at once. Save that bit for later when you feel like you need to scream. It better be him than anyone else.

Man I don't know what to say... I think I started off really well, didn't I, and check me out, not one single spelling mistake so far, I'm quite proud of myself!

Yeah you're right, I did use the Spell-Checking Quill. So what? That's much better than scratching out half of this.

I wish you could do that in real life. Scratching things out, I mean. Earase them. Bad one, sorry, couldn't help it. But life doesn't work like that, does it? Seems like we had to learn that the hard way. But you know what's good about the seemingly terrible fact that we can't change the past? It also means that the good things remain. And that's good. Believe me, it is. Maybe it doesn't seem so at the moment, maybe you think that you just want to forget everything, but that's not how it works, George. You have to remember the past as something to cherish, not something to be sad about. So you miss me? Believe me, I miss you too, bro. (In fact, I really am missing you right now as I'm writing cause you left half an hour ago to meet Lee. Your turn on Potterwatch today, Rodent.) But after all, we had a hell of a time, didn't we? So keep that in mind whenever you think about all them "what if"s. There's no such thing as "what if", and you know it, so stop thinking about it.

I don't regret anything about my life George. It was short, yes, but I lived it to the fullest and that's all I ever wanted. I didn't want it to end like this, at this time, that's right. But I always said I wanted to go down fighting when my time is up, and that's what happened. I can just hope that it was worth it in the end, that the war is over now. If there's one thing I don't want, then it's having died in vain. Make sure I didn't, George.

If you're reading this George, it means that I died, and although I wish so hard to be able to ease your pain, I know I can't. But the fact that you're reading this right now also means something else: it means that you're alive, George. You're still there. You're still there. You made it through, and there's a reason for that. You have to be there for the others, they will need you just like you need them. Make them laugh when they feel like they can't even smile; hold them when they fall apart. They will do the same for you if you only let them.

I love you so much, bro (not in that way, you idiot!), and leaving you breaks my heart. You've been the best brother I could ever have asked for, my best friend, my soulmate. And as long as you're there, I will never be truly gone. Never.

I'll still miss you.

Fred

George read the letter for what had to be the thousandth time. The piece of parchment was crumpled, shaking in his hands, but his face was rigid. For the last hour, tears had streamed down his cheeks, his lips had switched and formed the ghost of a laugh; memories had flooded his mind, making him sad, making him happy, making him proud. Things weren't easier at all now, in fact they kept getting harder every second.

But he knew that he would make it through, had to make it through.

Not only for himself, but for his family – and for that one person who was probably watching him in that very moment.