Chapter 1

George stunned another Death Eater and spun to face the next. There were duels going on all around him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a jinx narrowly miss Angelina Johnson. She ducked out of the way and expertly shot a spell back at the masked Death Eater, who went down hard and didn't get up. Next to George, Lee Jordan had just stunned his Death Eater as well and had started to face off with another. George turned to help him when a pain suddenly shot through his stomach. He doubled over, gasping. Lee gave George a worried glance.

"George, are you okay?"

George just kept staring at nothing, breathing hard. When he spoke, it was a whisper, as if he were talking to himself.

"Fred…"

"What?"

A jinx skipped by the pair. Lee gave a frustrated groan and fired back, hitting the Death Eater square in the face. Before his opponent hit the ground, Lee was kneeling down next to George, concern written all over his face. George continued gasping and speaking as if nothing had happened.

"Fred. I need to get to Fred!" He stood up quickly, determination painted on his face. With new purpose, George took off.

"George, wait!"

Before Lee could follow another Death Eater attacked and Lee was forced to stay behind and fight. Meanwhile, George took down any Death Eater in his path with cold efficiency.

Leaving a path of beaten and battered Death Eaters in his wake, he didn't notice the stares of the other Order members, classmates, and friends who had the opportunity to marvel at his skill. His face held a look of pure determination. If Voldemort himself had stood in George's way, there was no doubt that George would at least give him a run for his money.

Finally, George reached a destroyed corridor. He didn't know how he'd gotten there or why he was drawn to it, but he was certain it had something to do with Fred. He ran, frantically calling his twin. Stopping abruptly, he slowly turned to his right. A tuft of red hair was just visible in a niche a few feet away. George ran to his twin's body and fell to his knees, examining Fred for any signs of life, hoping against hope that he'd find a small pulse or feel the tiniest breath. There was nothing. He let out a sob. This couldn't happen. Fred wasn't dead. He reached out and shook Fred, yelling into the nothingness around him, the volume of his voice rising with every word.

"No, no, no! You're not dead! It's not fair! You can't be dead! No, Fred, NO!"

"NO!!" George Weasley sat straight up in bed, panting. It took him a couple of minutes to recognize the bedroom he'd been sharing with his twin brother since they'd been forced into hiding. He sighed and pushed his now sweaty bangs out of his face. Brushing his cheek as well, he was surprised to bring his hand back wet. Wiping his face, he realized there were tears running down his cheeks. He closed his eyes. The dreams had been getting worse the past few weeks. It started out with him fighting the Death Eaters. He'd throw out a few spells, then wake up. As days passed though, the dreams got longer and longer, divulging their sinister purpose.

The first time he felt his brother die, he'd woken up straight away and gone over to Fred's bed to find him still sleeping peacefully. After that, the dreams continued, revealing more about Fred's death. Each time when he woke up, he would go and check on Fred, watch him sleep for a few minutes, then go lie back down. He knew by now that sleep rarely came after the dreams, so he would usually just lie there until morning.

This dream was different though. He'd never actually seen Fred's body. The last dream had ended when he saw the tuft of red hair sticking out from the niche. Actually seeing Fred's pale face, his unseeing eyes, the bit of laughter etched forever on his face, made him feel physically ill. He had to see Fred alive and breathing.

He pushed the covers back in a rush and leapt out of bed, stumbling over to where his twin lay sleeping. Still shaking, he looked down at Fred, observing the slow rise and fall of his chest. It was a miracle Fred hadn't woken when he'd shouted out. George closed his eyes. The image of Fred's body leaning against the wall assaulted him. George's eyes flew open again. It was so real. He struggled to regain his senses, which were already dulled from the lack of sleep. Dizziness overwhelmed him and he fell heavily to the floor. Fred sat up in bed, groggy

"Huh? Whasappening?"

He glanced around, confused, until his eyes fell onto his brother, sitting on the floor, holding his head. Immediately, tiredness left him.

"George? What are you doing on the floor?"

George didn't respond. He just kept sitting there, face hidden.

"George, are you okay? You're scaring me."

Fred got out of bed and knelt next to his brother.

"George?"

When George failed to respond again, Fred reached over to George and pulled his hand down, then gently grasped his chin and brought it up until George was forced to look at him. He was shocked to see a steady stream of tears running down his twin's face.

"George, what happened?! Please say something!"

Without warning, George grabbed Fred and fell onto his chest.

"Oh Merlin, Fred. Never leave! Please, don't go! I don't know what I'd do! Please don't die! Please don't die!"

A look of confusion spread over Fred's face.

"Okay, it's okay! I'm not going anywhere! What's wrong? What happened?"

George didn't respond, just kept repeating the phrase "please don't die" over and over again. Fred was baffled, but kept his brother in a hug, letting him cry into his chest. After a few minutes, Fred's legs started going numb. George showed no signs of letting up.

"George, do you think we could move to your bed before my legs fall off?"

The feeble attempt at humor was lost as George just kept on whimpering.

"I'll take that as a yes."

Slowly, Fred stood up. George tightened his grip, but followed Fred. Fred walked them over to George's bed and slid on, lying back on the pillows. George did the same, never removing his head from Fred's chest. They lay there, George crying and Fred rubbing circles on his twin's back, trying his best to comfort him.

After a while, the crying died down and George's breathing evened out. Fred lay there, looking down at his now sleeping brother, who was still hugging his chest. What had set this off? He knew something had been bothering George for the past two or three weeks, but George refused to talk about it.

In fact, George had been acting more and more distant since the first time he'd woken up panting. George didn't know that he actually woke up when George did. Fred was aware that his brother had started coming over to his bed every night to watch him, though he tried to sleep it off, thus the groggy response to his distraught other half after the earlier collapse.

It was even more disturbing that George didn't know that Fred had woken up as well. They usually knew what the other was doing. One could always tell if the other was awake, asleep, happy, sad, angry, frustrated, or even hungry a lot of times without even looking at each other. George was off. Something was worrying him and he wouldn't share it with Fred.

This disturbed Fred even more. The twins had always shared everything with each another. The only time they'd had a secret was when Fred had a crush on Angelina. It was the first time either one of them had really liked a girl. He didn't tell George for three days before he finally cracked. That was the longest secret they'd ever had. Until now.

George had gone at least two weeks, maybe three. What was he keeping that was disturbing him so much that he couldn't tell his own twin? With these thoughts and questions swirling around in his head, Fred drifted off to sleep as well, holding his twin.