(Six weeks after the Battle of Hogwarts)

George went upstairs after dinner, up to his and Fred's room.

Recently, the famous Weasley twins had developed a magical lamp that would burn forever – unlike charmed candles that extinct after a while. One thing though – it still needed to be tested. So before dinner, he and Fred had lit one in their room, to see if it was still glowing when they came back.

It was still shining brightly, but George noticed a strange smell. Had they done something wrong? Quickly, George grabbed the floating lamp and examined it, but it looked as if there was nothing wrong with it.

But only seconds after he touched it, the lamp exploded in his hands. George yelled and threw it on his bed. We should have performed an anti-exploding charm on it, he thought.

Absentmindedly, he picked up the remainders of the lamp. It looked undamaged, apart from the switch that had loosened. It had fallen somewhere beneath Fred's bed.

George sat down on the floor and looked under the bed. The little switch was laying against the furthest wall, so he took his wand and muttered "Accio". As the tiny thing was drawn into his hand, he noticed something else. A folded piece of parchment was laying under the bed. Wondering what it could be, George summoned it as well.

To my dear twin brother, George read and he quickly opened it.

Hello George,

(I hope you're the one to find this. Although that's most likely, since mum refuses to clean or so called 'piggery' anymore.)

If you're reading this, then I have died in the war. Otherwise I would have destroyed this letter. George, I hope at least you haven't died as well, we can't do that to mum. But I'm sorry for leaving you behind. I honestly would do anything to change it. But I hope we won at last. At least I haven't died for nothing.

Actually, I have no idea why I'm writing you a letter in case I die. Nobody else is doing anything like this. Oh, while I was just writing that, I got a vision of our whole family, sitting at a table writing letters. Before we go to the war, we put them all in one box and if any of us died, we take his letter out and read it. A brilliant idea, even though I say it myself. (I really sound like Dumbledore now, don't you think?)

But back to the point. I'll watch over you from up there, Georgie. I promise. I'll make sure you continue our joke shop. You can't close it, now that I'm gone! If you do, I'll haunt you until the end of your days.

I just hope you find a way to continue your life without me. You can, I'm sure about that. Find a girl (how about Angie?), get married, get kids, I don't know what else, but live!

I love you forever, George.

Your dearest twin, Fred.

After he'd read it twice, George continued staring at the paper, trying to imagine what his life would be like if Fred did indeed die. It had come close, he thought. Fred nearly died that day.

He just couldn't imagine it, life without Fred. He was always the one to understand him completely. He could make him laugh with just one gaze. They were mostly thinking exactly the same, and when speaking they completed each other's sentences – they had even made a game out of that. The pranks they'd pulled, the Quidditch games, all those happy moments. And to just imagine that all of that would never happen again, it was impossible.

He thought about growing old without Fred. Not living in twin houses like they'd always said they would. Their kids not being able to play with each other, not able to pull pranks on them. George sighed, and a single tear fell on the parchment.

At that point, the door of their room opened. George looked up instantly and felt relief spreading through his veins as Fred entered. Although he knew Fred didn't die, thinking about it made him feel sad.

"Oh, Angie is such a cutie," Fred sighed, dropping on his bed. He stared at the ceiling dreamy for a minute, before he turned his gaze to his brother. "Don't you think?" he asked, but his voice trailed off as he noticed the parchment in George's hands and his brother's gaze.

"Oh, crap," he mouthed, slamming his hand against his face as he recognized his letter. "I'm sorry, George. I should have destroyed it like I said I would. I just threw it under my bed that day for you to find and I completely forgot about it afterwards."

"I know, Fred, it's okay. You only made me realise how lucky I am to still have you here."

Fred took out his wand to destroy the letter, but George held it back.

"Can I keep it? If you ever die – and I hope that won't happen for the coming 70 years – then I can read this again."

Fred hesitated a second and then he laughed. "Fine, keep it. But there's one thing I have to disagree on which I wrote. You can't have Angelina. I want her."

George chuckled. "This is the proof you gave her to me," he said, showing Fred the parchment.

"Perhaps we can both date her. She can't tell the difference anyway," Fred said, and they both laughed. But in fact, Angelina was one of the few people that could actually tell the difference between the twins.

"Why doesn't Angelina have a twin sister?" George sighed and Fred grinned.

Then, George picked up the lamp and told Fred it had exploded. They focused on their joke shop business again, and tried to fix it.

But halfway their work, George looked up.

"Oh Fred, before I forget to tell you," he said sincerely, "I love you too."