Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. All characters and names belong to J..

The familiarity of this hidden passage came flooding back to the figure that stepped through the large steel doors with the slightest shuffle of their feet; it had been years since he had stepped foot in this room that had kept them safely hidden during such hard times at school. Memories filled the figure's mind causing their saddened eyes to glaze over momentarily with subtle tears that were quickly blinked away.

It was an hour past dark, the only sound echoing off the walls of the large room being a bird; a faint sound it was, but obvious to the ginger nonetheless. It chirped with such sorrow in its vocals that it almost seemed like a cry for help. For someone to seek it out in the darkness and set it free from its burdens and fears.

The click of a knob turned and a polished door creaked open halfway, but nothing emerged from its passage. A head slowly made its way towards the particular door, peeping through the opening but meeting with nothing other than darkness, dust and an odor that was unpleasant. The figure let out a breath like it had choked on the musty smell, unprepared for that night's discoveries. Finally taking notice to the vanished chirping and squawking of the unidentified bird, skittish eyes searched the room that was covered in a blanket of darkness and dust after all these years.

The figure closed the door, but soon heard chirping, only to open the object yet again. Looking down to the flooring of the cabinet, a small bird – grey with a yellow beak and small beady eyes – made the sound again as it took it upon itself to waddle out of the wooden contraption and across the soiled floor, before stretching out its small wings and flying away behind some box at the very back of the room.

The figure, of which appeared to be that of a man, retrieved a thin wand from the pocket of blue flannel pajama pants; a whisper was all that came from its lips.

"Lumos."

A light emitted from the tip of the wand, causing the blackened room to be revealed in a blue-tinted glow; the wizard walked around the room slowly, taking in all its features and the objects that were stored away within it, until he got to the back wall, seeing nothing. In the corner of his eye, however, he noticed a reflection of the objects that were to his right. Cautiously, he neared it until he came to see that it was a mirror. The mirror had a mysterious and intriguing vibe to it that made him want to come closer. As he did so, he held up his wand to inspect it; the frame looked like a precious and ancient oak carving, but was however, made of a rusty form of metal that he was unsure of. There were words engraved upon it, just over the mirror in some of the finest calligraphy he had ever seen, and the mirror stood tall and strong as if to show that it had lasted, fully in one piece, after all these years of being hidden within the walls of the enchanted castle he once called his second home.

As he approached the mirror completely, he stared into the glass, seeing his own reflection. He was immediately saddened, as he swore never to look into a mirror again; it broke his heart to look back and see not only his reflection, but the reflection of his other half in his own, his own reflection, copy…twin.

However, staring into the mirror for a moment longer, something formed. Something strange and odd, that had the ability to make him want to sob recklessly on the floor, but grin and throw himself upon this mysterious reflection.

Looking back at him, as shown in the mirror, was not just one half of the Weasley pair, but the whole of them. His late best friend and brother, partner in crime, his own flesh and blood, smiling at him with that same old half-smirk, half-grin that he'd grown to miss painfully over the past decade. A carefree arm was slung around his shoulders in the appearance. Salty tears formed in his own eyes as he continued to stare, afraid that if he looked away, gone would be the one person he'd give his life for.

With eyes searching the glass for some way to bring this to life, he managed to choke out a few words.

"Gred… Greddie, oh Greddie…"

Using the nickname he had not spoken in such a very long time, his voice cracked and he choked up as the waterworks spilled over like a hole in a dam. He fell to his knees in front of the reflection, his shoulders shaking with every heart-wrenching sob that escaped his throat. The poor man's fingers grasped at the wooden floor trying to find something to hold on to, but all he could picture was his twin laughing with him, holding him, hugging him, smiling. He could just hear him now, picturing it in his mind.

"I thought you'd never show, silly."

George, however, could not say anything. He just sat there, on his hands and knees, staring into the glass. There were no words that could describe how he felt at that moment. He could no longer smile, nor could he frown. He could only look at the picture he longed to become reality with a blank expression. His life flashed before his eyes. His 20 years of actual living; yes, he was now a crisp 38, with thinning hair and enough wrinkles on his forehead to drum on, but you haven't quite lived until you've lived with Fred. For him, at least, that was how life was, and since that dreadful night, in the middle of battle, he has not felt the same.

Hearing the sound of crackling and a large 'BANG!', he turned his head, swiping the red hair out of his eyes. He searched the battlegrounds frantically, looking to see what had happened, until he saw his Percy, Arthur, Molly and Ginny huddled over the ground, blocking his site. His mother's cries were faint but proof to his ears that there was indeed something wrong. He scampered over, skinning his knee on a sharp rock but ignoring it when he approached the foursome.

"What's wrong?"

His sister looked up at him with sadness in her eyes, tears at the brim and Percy could not even look up at all. His mother continued to cry and George stood over them, looking to the ground, only to spot his best friend. Fred lay on the dirt ground, gasping for breath and making the most painful-sounding noises he'd ever heard; his chest heaved up and down and his pale hand reached out across the ground beneath him, towards that of his brothers. George took his hand in his own and squeezed it, flinching at the coolness of his brother's skin. Tears fell immediately, and he leaned over his body, crying alongside his family, hugging his brother and begging him to stay. He said a prayer in his head, pleading that someone would help him.

"Fred…Freddie, are you okay? Freddie?"

The identical boy just smiled. A soft, but regretful smile. Arthur began to talk to his dying son, in hopes that a conversation would help him stay awake in time for Hermione to return with her healing techniques.

The minutes went by slowly, and George felt like he was now seeing everything in black and white as his brother faded away bit by bit; Hermione did not show. They could do nothing, huddled in a safe place in the middle of a battle, tucked away from the sight of any Death Eaters that could bring more sorry to the broken family.

"Fred, stay with me. Please, Fred, don't go!"

Fred stared into his brother's eyes silently begging him to stop and to let go of him. It was his time. They spoke through their eyes until Fred's chest heaved once more and with a slight squeeze of the hand, he was gone in the wind, eyes shut and a smile on his face. George lost it in that moment. The tears came down like never before and he found himself paralyzed. His ultimate fear… the only thing that the boggart came of during Lupin's class years and years ago, was him. Alone. With no Fred by his side. And it happened.

Percy attempted to wrap his arms around his younger brother who looked like he was ready to die any second as well, but was pushed away and knocked into the mud by the twin who quickly scurried off just as it began to pour. Drops of rain hit their faces, dampening the family's ginger hair, and combining with the salty tears that occupied each of their cheeks.

Blinking several times, George came back to reality, where he knelt in front of the mirror. Standing up slowly, he continued to look on.

"Well what are you waiting for? Give me a hug, Georgie!"

Stuck in the illusion of the mirror, George walked forward, reaching his hand out. However, he was met by the cold and untouched glass, and a frown played across his lips. He pressed his hand flat against the glasses, pushing lightly, but he could not touch his late brother. He could not feel the warmth of his skin as his blood flowed through his veins, nor could he see him smile and watch as other people smiled along with him. He could not push him into walls or stop walking in front of him while shopping in London, where Fred would bump into his back. He could not punch his arm when they rough-housed and they could not make up crazy potions together, only to be corrected by Hermione. They could not do anything of that sort.

Anger came over him suddenly, and George clenched his fingers in his palms, creating a fist. He raised his arm and took a good swing at the mirror. His knuckles were scraped and bloody, cut in some places, and they ached; however, the mirror did not break.

Taking his wand in his other hand, George raised it. Gathering up all his strength, he pointed the wand at the glass and yelled.

"REDUCTO!"

The room was silent until the glass suddenly shattered to the floor, taking his brother's reflection with him. The tears returned again and George felt himself crying for what must have been the thousandth time since the day that ruined his life. Oh, how he cried. Like the world was ending and he had absolutely nothing left.

Of course he had Angelina and Fred II and Roxanne, but it was not the same. They couldn't fill the hole that was in his heart. They couldn't replace Fred.

It was not until it was a half past 2 in the morning that George found the strength to summon the door and leave. It seemed he'd ran out of tears and his eyes were now red and puffy, with eye bags that Angelina would surely fuss over in the morning, lecturing him on getting more sleep.

But Angelina did not know where he was.

No, neither did Ron. Or Ginny. Or Percy. Or Bill. Or Harry. Or Hermione.

He, himself, was now unsure. This was not the Hogwarts he remembered.

The Hogwarts he remembered was once full of life. It was colorful in a way, and its charm was able to draw you in. The memories that lay within the walls of the castle that reminded him of Fred made this experience troubling and depressing. The hallways and corridors seemed dark and unwelcoming. There was no laughter heard, not even that of the ghosts. The silence was loud. Sickening, really. And he hated it.

He walked down the familiar flights of stairs, recalling which ones moved at a certain time and which ones didn't. He didn't dare look at the various frames and pictures on the wall, for he knew there were several with the twins in it and he felt he needn't anymore pain for that night.

Once he came to the courtyard, he apparated back to his home that was a mile or two away from his parents' house. Opening the door, he crept in trying to make as little noise as possible. He poured himself a cup of tea that his wife had left on the stove for him, and drank it quietly while sitting in the dark.

When he'd finished, he went up the creaky stairs, slipping on his loafers and entering the faintly-lit bedroom of his daughter. He walked to her bedside, sweeping the red locks from her forehead, and placing his lips against her warm skin, before blowing out the candle at her desk and exiting. He did the same in his son's room, and went on to go to his own bedroom where his wife slept. He lifted up the covers that his mother had taken the time to knit, and he slid under, lying on his back, He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, staring into the darkness of his mind and listening to the wind blow the trees in the front yard.

Several hours later, Roxanne's owl chirped repeatedly. Normally, this would be ignored but it sounded quite urgent. She ran to her room, setting the bird free from its cage and allowing it to roam the house in peace. However, the owl flew into their parents' room, and landed on the headboard of the bed where her father still slumbered, wrapped in blankets. His face was peaceful but the wrinkles on his forehead were still present.

Jumping onto the bed, Roxanne tapped her father's shoulder, but he did not awaken with a smile and took her into his arms and tickled her sides. He did not move at all.

Calling for her mother and her brother, Angelina entered with Fred II not far behind.

"Daddy won't wake up, Mum. I tapped him like I usually do."

Thinking that her husband was just tired, she shook her head, motioning for the children to leave. "Your father had a very stressful night, let him rest."

When the children left, she began to walk out but looked back skeptically. She turned around, shaking him softly. "George, wake up."

George did not move.

After several attempts to awaken her husband, she grew fearful and tears welled up. She quickly picked up the phone, calling over her sisters and brothers in-law. She called up his parents as well and she took his cold hand, rubbing her thumb over the back of it where she found scrapes on his knuckles.

George walked into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. It was full of life and the sound of children's laughter was heard throughout the store's levels. The glass door showed his reflection. He was 17 again. And he felt no sorrow in his heart, just happiness. Running up the stairs to the second level, he saw Fred standing in front of the Extendable Ears shelf, grinning. He opened his arms, beckoning for a hug. They embraced, slapping each others' backs and laughing.

"It's about time!" Fred chuckled.

George smiled, no longer feeling heaviness in his heart. It felt full again. He felt full again. He was not a half, but a whole.

A/N: I can actually say I'm pretty proud of this. Wow. It's not exactly how I wanted it to turn out but I love it anyways, you know? I always imagined the Weasley twins being attached by the hip in one way or another and I would absolutely love if they could somehow be reunited in another (possible) installment if the series :3 lol. But yeah, at first I was going to go with a depressing them for this one-shot but I figured, hey I have a lot of depressing stories so maybe this should take a turn in moods. When I was writing this, I was pretty upset, just with everything; it's mostly to do with the last movie coming out and me balling like a baby when Fred died. They are honestly my favourite pair, not romantically, but spiritually and their bond is amazing. Harry Potter means so much to me, not because it's this huge hype right now, but because I grew up reading the books and being introduced to Dan, Rupet, Emma, James & Oliver, Tom, etc…

I was bullied a lot in grade school, around grade 4 and 5, and I'd come home and read the books. Fred and George were my source for laughter at the time and I felt like for once it was okay not to be good in school because there's other things you can be good at. You don't have to memorize all your times tables and formulas to be a successful person in another aspect of life, or to be a good person.

Tonight, however, I'm happy and I'm happy that this piece of writing is almost exactly how I imagined it to be and I don't feel ashamed about posting this. Hope you liked it. Reviews please? :)