Disclaimer- Ugh, you know.

Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition; big prompt was George Weasley, smaller prompts were radio, winter, and candle. Takes place some time after DH. :)

"Have you ever wanted to see a dragon?"

George was shaken out of his reverie by his brother, who had his head poked into the shop.

"Don't leave the door open," said George automatically. "It's cold outside."

"Yes," said Charlie patiently. "I know."

He didn't come in, nor did he close the door.

"Look, George," said Charlie. "You can't hide in the shop forever."

George raised his eyebrows. "I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about."

George watched Charlie's eyes flick to George's seat in front of the window, taking in the mess on the polished surface of the display case. There was a radio, several empty wrappers of Honeyduke's chocolate, a joke prototype George had been fiddling with, untouched order forms, and a lit candle, casting ghastly shadows of Charlie's annoyed face.

"This is ridiculous," said Charlie, hauling George up by the arm and blowing out the candle. "Come on."

"If that turns out to be one of the relightable candles and the shop burns down," said George. "I'm blaming you."

Charlie Accioed the keys for the shop and locked it while George remembered that, in the presence of other people, he was supposed to be funny. He startled whistling.

"I've already seen dragons, you know," said George. "During the Triwizard Tournament."

"You've seen a show," said Charlie. "I want to show you dragons."

"I didn't ask for any of this," sighed George, clutching the side of the flying carpet as they zoomed through the air.

"You don't ask for an epiphany," said Charlie promptly. "It just happens."

"Is that what you're trying to do?" asked George curiously. "Bring on an epiphany?"

"Yes."

There was a few moments of silence, and then George laughed. Charlie looked surprised.

"What?" said George. "Haven't you ever seen me laugh?"

"I used to," said Charlie. "Every day, in and out. Lately they haven't been very convincing."

The carpet took a sharp turn, and George felt his stomach drop.

"Remind me why we're taking flying carpets again?"

"Because you and I live for adventure."

"Of course we do."

"Dad would love this."

"Yeah," said Charlie, smiling nostalgically as they bumped down a long country road in a Muggle jeep. "He really would. Can you imagine? He'd be asking the driver all sorts of questions. He'd think Dad was nuts."

"A lot of people think Dad's nuts," said George. "Sometimes I think he's nuts."

"He returns the sentiment, I'm sure. No one who isn't nuts sets up a joke shop with their twin brother in the middle of a war."

The air didn't thicken.

George had expected it to.

At the mention of his twin, his stomach sort of...curdled. He didn't feel the need to jump out of the car or tear off his own skin or hex Charlie into oblivion. He just felt sad.

Charlie was still waiting for a response, his expression casual but his eyes watchful.

"We were mad," said George. "It was a mad thing to do. That's why it worked."

Sometimes, even now, he still got to say we.

"I think I understand what you meant."

"About what?"

They were on the brooms, looking down at the dragon mother with her babies, watching the young ones tussle with each other as they began to grow. George had never really appreciated what it was that had taken Charlie away from his family for so many years. Not until then.

"About the show. About dragons. How I'd never really seen them before."

"Is that all?"

George glanced at his brother; he seemed deeply troubled, chewing his lip the way he did when he was thinking hard.

"Why New Zealand?" asked George suddenly.

"What?"

"We have dragons in England. Why did you bring me all the way to New Zealand?"

"The Opaleyes are especially beautiful."

George rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous, Charlie. If anyone can smell a lie, it's me."

"You're right," said Charlie.

"So why did you bring me here?"

"Because it's not winter here," said Charlie simply, lifting his arms to embrace the hot, dry air and beating rays of the sun, casually oblivious to his broomstick the way the truly talented often were.

"That's it?"

"Yes."

George couldn't help himself; he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting images flash against the back of his eyelids. When he opened his eyes, one of the little Opaleyes was breathing her first few licks of flame.

"I think I understand."

Charlie dropped his arms and grinned a broad smile at George. "I think you'll be alright."

Something stirred inside George, and the truth hit him full force, knocking the air out of his stomach.

"That's it," said George, voice rising. "That's it!"

What?" asked Charlie, eyes trained on his brother.

"I don't know how to be an I! I don't know how to be by myself! Without him, without Fred, I don't know who I am. It's not Fred and George anymore, it's just me, and I don't know how to deal with that! I don't know who I am, if I even have my own personality without him...I'm just George, I'm just half of a sad, washed out comedy team! I'm no one!"

"You were lucky," said Charlie quietly. "You had him, and you escaped the worries of validation the rest of us had. But now you're alone, and you've got to make your own way. It's never going to be easy, but you can do it."

"How do you know?"

"I don't, not for certain."

If they'd had time, they probably would have taken the time for another brooding, long pause, but George's outburst had alerted the mother Opaleye and she was now rearing her head and ominously spreading her wings.

"I think we'd better get going," said Charlie quickly, pulling upwards. George quickly followed, and they zoomed up into the clouds, wet spray coating their faces.

"What about you, Charlie?" asked George as they sped along.

"What about me?"

"You said everyone has worries about who you are. What about you?"

"Ah," said Charlie evasively. "I'm more interested in dragons than anything else."

If Fred were there, George would have joined him in nagging Charlie until he either admitted it or knocked them off theirs brooms, but since he wasn't, George decided to let it go.

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