Disclaimer: I don't own any of JK Rowling's characters or themes. I do own Justine, I made her up. But what she owns/sees/hears about, who she loves/likes/befriends, where she goes/lives/is are all figments of JK's imagination, not mine.

HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILERS! HUGE ONES. AKA I SAY THE END OF THE STORY ETCETC.

A/N: Though I created Justine, and originally planned on making her reflect me, she no longer does.
Also: this is the FIRST FAN FIC I'd ever written, I just never got around to posting it. I wrote the beginning in June or July of 07, before the last book came out, which explains why Fleur's dress is really different, but once I read Deathly Hallows, the story really took shape. I probably got around to finishing it in September, maybe late August.
Oh, yeah, and I haven't run it by anyone except my one friend who has never read a Harry Potter book. Ever. I asked him about a million times if it was ok that the end of the series was spoiled for him. He honestly didn't care. I felt really bad afterward, but apparently he liked the fic, so thats ok. I suppose. But yes, I am a sinner, I revealed the end of the series to someone. Hangs head But that also means I haven't had any constructive critisicm relating to my twist of the canon. Just the writing.
And its very cheesy. And fluffly. Especially the ending. But I don't care. Its an ode to one of my favorite characters, and a chance to comfort the others! Comfort should be fluff by definition! Teehee. Yes. Talk of death, of course, but in the end, a fluff about life.

ps: I don't have time to edit it much, I've still got homework, I just really wanted to post something. Sorry if any of the grammar or whatnot is messed up. Enjoy.

--moi

Ode to Fred

"Fred," Justine twiddled a wisp of her dark hair and looked the twin straight in the face. "How does it look?" She motioned to her dress, the one that Ron had to graciously bought, much to Hermione's annoyance and the Weasley family's worry. The garment cost slightly less than one hundred galleons. Ron would not be buying anyone presents for the holidays, nor was the gift he planned on bestowing Bill and Fleur later that evening paid for with his money. And everyone knew it.

Ron was not himself. A month earlier, when Hermione vivaciously announced Bill and Fleur's wedding, Ron began moping. Harry told everyone that it was because he was trapped, but, in truth, Harry had no idea. A few days later Justine came, Ginny's sixteen year-old exchange student from the United States, and Ron got worse. He often complained of too many girls in the house, and even punched Harry in the abdomen when Harry jokingly remarked that the only reason Ron was worried about too many women was because he was secretly gay and wanted more guys around. Even Hermione laughed at that, causing the poor Weasley boy to dissolve swiftly into tears of distress and anxiety.

And then Justine and Hermione and Ginny went shopping. And Justine fell in love with a beautiful auburn and shiny dress that sat in the window of one of the robe-fitter's shops.

"Oh, what a gorgeous ensemble," she squealed as the three of them rushed into the store. Her smile flopped when the old, surly woman behind the counter laughed at them as they gushed over the garment's beauty.

"You can't afford that, darling, unless that chest you have is where you carry your coins."

Hurt and aggravated, Justine went back to the Burrow and whined about the terrible old lady and the wondrous gown. Two weeks later, exactly six days before the wedding, Ron shouted "Fine!" and went flying out of the house (metaphorically), returning several hours later with a large bag, which he thrust at Justine awkwardly, quickly returning to his room.

"Here," was all he said. Hermione stared fixedly at his back, horrified, and fell sobbing into a heap of hair, clothes, and tears on the floor when she saw what the bag contained.

Justine hid it away under the bed, but Hermione angrily demanded that Justine, and the dress, and Justine's other belongings be kicked out of the room the teen girls shared. Ginny turned and smiled at Justine apologetically, then helped her repack her bag and carry the mattress into her new quarters. Thus the young American witch found herself in the corner of Fred and George's room hidden by a screen that miraculously appeared at Molly Weasley's bidding. It was there more for Justine's comfort than the twins', they couldn't have cared less when Justine suddenly emerged the next morning, wearing only a t-shirt and underwear to find them experimenting with another toy.

"Hey, Justine, put some clothes on and come check out our latest invention! Fart-a-kedavra! Looks like a harmless ball, yes? NO! Actually a deadly weapon of stench! Simply bounce, and a great green fog that smells like farts will envelope the area where the ball bounced, allowing the bored student to easily distract the teacher and get away with a prank on his or her rivals…" Fred continued on in an important manner, George clapping all the while. Finally, one of them bounced it, and Justine nearly choked on her own bile as she rushed out the door in search of safety and clean air. No, the twins didn't care at all that Justine was sleeping in their room. She was just another fun person with and on whom to try out pranks.

Though they had been forced to vacate the room in order for Justine to dress, she was done and the twins returned. Wearing dress robes and fresh from the shower, they looked quite spiffy. It was party time at the Burrow, celebrating Bill and Fleur's marriage, and many Hogwarts students had been invited, including George's girlfriend, Angelina, and Hermione's parents. Arthur Weasley, the Muggle-obsessed Weasley patron, had even suggested inviting Harry's aunt and uncle. Harry refused and sabotaged their invitation just in case, although the likelihood of it getting to the Dursley's by owl was slim to none.

As they each studied Justine in the mirror, George shrugged, fiddling with the bowtie his brother had just done for him.

"It looks…nice." Justine turned her head and gave him a cynical glare. "Hey, I'm attached, what do I say if my steamy compliments get out?"

"That wasn't steamy, George, that was forced and insincere," she replied in a faux tone of anger.

"Better than nice," Fred interrupted, but didn't continue.

"That wasn't steamy either…" Justine began, but neither of the twins was listening. The trio continued to look into the mirror.

The long gown, the tint of leaves in the fall, except shiny, made out of silk, looked dazzling on her, and the occupants of the room were very aware of it. Justine had wondered how Ron had gotten the perfect fit, until she opened the bag that afternoon and found one of her other dresses inside with the garment. He must have swiped her dress and shown it to the old lady. Whatever Ron did, he did it right: the dress fit perfectly. That was just how magic worked out.

It was cut low; tight across the neckline, more than hinting at what lay beneath the fabric. The cloth was cinched into little rumples from the top to the waistline, where a black belt of fabric was sewed on and fixed into a bow on her right thigh. Thin, isosceles triangles of the material looped to the backside of the dress creating straps. Black ruffles adorned the hem, neckline, and straps, while lace matching the color of the ruffles crossed down the v-style, open back to the waist and the adjoined belt, under which the lace-strings could be tucked. At the belt, the dress stopped hugging Justine's curves and slipped gracefully to the floor in a layered flair of silk, meeting a pair of small, black pumps.

"Whoa," Ginny said, causing them all to jump and spin. None of them had heard her enter; wearing a periwinkle, form-fitting dress adorned with darker stitching that represented leaves and branches. The stitching led up to a small, rose-shaped piece of fabric that lay at Ginny's small bosom. Her entrance ended the awkward silence, and George strode over to his sister.

"Look Fred! Little Ginny-winny is appealing. Can you imagine that?"

"My eyes are burning. Somebody help me!"

Everyone laughed, but Ginny quickly composed herself and grabbed Justine's arm. "We must go down. Hermione really doesn't want to talk to you, but Mum wants us to greet the guests."

"I like your dress, Ginny." She smiled and thanked Justine.

"Yours looks better. Oh. Not to rain on your parade or anything, but Hermione went out and made another buy yesterday, I don't know if you know. She got another dress which she intends on wearing, in order to outshine you," Ginny grimaced, and the twins exchanged looks, but Justine was unperturbed.

"Hey, it's not my day."

"But it's not Hermione's either," Fred pointed out.

The four of them descended the many stairwells, Ginny automatically taking George's arm as though they were going to a dance, or important dinner. She nudged Justine to do the same with Fred. Justine giggled while Fred arranged their arms, then they descended. "We'd Apparate if it weren't for you two," Fred joked.

"Oh there you are!" Molly Weasley waved at them, looking cute in a pillbox hat and suit-skirt ensemble, a worn, but beautiful brown cloak fastened to her shoulders. "Oh, don't you all look just darling! Harry! Harry! Come here and take Ginny's arm instead, if you would."

The famous and infamous Harry Potter entered from the garden where he had been helping with table-setup. He nodded at the twins who chorused "hi" in return. Blushing slightly, his glasses a bit askew, he held his arm out for the youngest Weasley offspring. His dress robes were newly ironed and went well with his dark hair, his emerald green eyes bright from behind his round glasses, and they matched his black and green bowtie well. The trademark scar flashed in the light, and as Justine watched, Harry reflexively reached up and touched it.

"Good afternoon Ginny, Justine," he said, smiling at them. "How are you?" Harry was staring pointedly at Justine, probably to avoid the awkwardness of ex-girlfriend chatter. The two broke up at the end of the school year, due to Harry's fear of Ginny being hurt by the Dark Lord. Ginny was the one to answer.

"I'd be better if you weren't afraid of associating yourself with me," she snapped matter-of-factly, gripping his arm. "Look, I know you're worried about me, but quit worrying! I know you love me and that's not going to change when He-when Voldemort comes for you. Let him know you have something to fight for! Isn't it love that saved your life when your parents and hundreds of other well-trained wizards died?" She kissed him passionately and Justine whisked the twins away, thankful, though slightly disgusted, when George spotted Angelina and began to snog her.

Ginny had been formulating that speech all week long, and since Hermione was too busy fuming, had been practicing it on Justine. The turn-out was much better, however, than Justine expected; when she dared to peek in their general direction, they were standing by the door of the Burrow, happily welcoming guests.

Next to them stood Ron and Hermione, both in a much better mood than anyone had seen them. They apparently were no longer arguing about the dress mishap, and in fact as Ron levitated several coats towards the closet, he purposefully dropped Hermione's mother's jacket on Hermione's head, laughing delightedly. As Hermione made her way out of the coat, sending it to its place in the seemingly never-ending closet, Justine inspected the dress.

It was a dark blue shade, completely one color, clinging to her curves beautifully, finally falling away at her ankles into little ringlets of blue. Almost like a tiny wave, Justine thought. Hermione had even done her hair, the tousled, mousy brown clump now curly, chocolate strands framing her face. Her hand rested sweetly, almost protectively on Ron's elbow, and her moist, glossy lips curved into a smile.

By then most of the guests had arrived and both couples abandoned their posts to join everyone in the garden. Justine and Fred went to find the bride.

"Joostin! Fred! 'Ello! What do 'oo t'ink?" Fleur twirled happily in a grotesquely ruffled wedding gown with hemming the color of an overdone egg yolk. Looking more like a yellow poodle with dreadlocks than a bride-to-be, Fleur pranced gracefully around her room in front of the large mirror. Though she was physically dazzling, the awful effect of the dress that would be bad enough on any normal person, completely clashed with the part-Veela's beauty and made the whole affair even worse. Fred made a fake barfing noise, and slipped out.

"I'll be outside."

Another knock came on the door before Justine could even think of an answer to Fleur's question, saving her the trouble. Hermione pushed past, armed with a banana-large grin. It did a banana split when she set eyes on Justine.

"Oh, hello," Justine said, keeping her face as calm and unemotional as possible. Hermione twitched her fingers at Justine and slid around her in a large arc.

Oblivious to the awkward persona the room had just donned, Fleur twirled several more times and bumped into Hermione, who nearly tumbled over trying to avoid the wall of frills. After a few brief exchanges, Fleur sent them out so that she could concentrate on acting bride-like.

"Awful!" giggled Hermione in answer to Fleur's oft repeated question about her outfit, as she and Justine left the room. "Look, I know I've been an outright snob all week, and I don't know. I guess…" she trailed off and brushed a strand of hair from her face, the stereotypical gesture of all women with hair trying to hide nervousness. Justine couldn't help but do the same, continuing her laugh silently at the thought. Fred, who had just caught up with them again, awkwardly side-stepped to allow them a moment alone, although he was strolling right behind them.

"It's not your fault, Hermione. Ron's your boyfriend! Gosh, if I had a boyfriend. Hah, as if, but I mean, I'd be so, like, angry. Knowing me I'd probably try to, like, beat you up. And, well, Ron really shouldn't have gotten it," Justine chewed on her lip, wincing. Hermione shrugged.

"I just, I don't know why he would. Not for anyone except me. I really wish he hadn't. Every time I look at it, I'm like, so close to tears. But it's not your fault either. Ugh," she began to walk out to the backyard, small rivulets of blue fabric swimming behind her.

"Maybe you should ask him. You have no idea how many times I asked him to take it back. He just, like, wouldn't even listen to me. I'm sorry," Justine thought, for a moment, that her moment of peace with Hermione had ended as the girl turned, tears sliding down her cheeks like those streams of cloth at her feet.

"Sounds like Ron," Fred put in, hoping to lighten up the moment.

"I guess," Hermione began, wiping her face, grinning a bit, "Boys will be boys." Justine nodded in agreement.

"Hey!" Fred poked Justine, then Hermione in the ribs. Both girls squealed with laughter.

"It's true," Hermione snapped matter-of-factly, "Can you help me with my make-up, Justine?" When Justine looked up, Hermione's smeared eyes smiled, the banana grin returning to her lips. "I don't want to look like Fleur, I mean, that girl's got a heart to marry Bill even after what happened, but she has no sense of style. And to think she's part Veela!"

"Glad you two are talking again," Fred called after them as they made their way to a bathroom.

"How long does makeup take?" Fred stepped out from behind the bathroom door. "I see you're gorgeous now, which is smashing, but could you please save me? George won't stop fondling Angelina and Harry is busy with Ginny out by the lavender bush! And Ron's going haywire over not being able to do the same with you, Herms!" He grabbed their elbows and pulled them out to the garden. Hermione's parent's snapped pictures and the older Weasley's (minus Percy, who stood in the corner of the garden regarding the whole event with dissatisfaction) looked at the strange contraption ("you mean, the figures won't move?"). Sure enough, behind a clueless Mrs. Weasley, George caressed Angelina in a slightly vulgar way, Harry doing the same with Ginny. Justine turned to Hermione, who giggled again.

"Boys will be boys," they said in unison.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked, kissing Hermione on the top of the head…

---

Justine woke up, startled.

"What is it?" Hermione turned, looking at Justine, who was snuggled alone in an armchair across from Harry and Ginny. Harry was putting in another movie in the new DVD player he'd bought for Sirius' old house, angry that The Covenant had so blatantly insulted him, when the magic that the warlocks performed was wandless and supposedly drained their life forces. Kreacher was snoring peacefully nearby, bored with the wizard's choice of Muggle entertainment, the locket clutched in his hand.

"Load of rubbish out of Merlin's-," Harry grumbled, flicking his wand at the DVD cover, "why did I even bother to get a DVD player? Muggle movies are terrible. Oh, sorry Hermione. Ginny, what?"

Ginny pointed at Justine, lonely in that big chair. Shuddering, she glanced from Ron to Ginny, and grimaced, closing her eyes. Hermione opened her mouth to speak.

"Are you ok? My monthly's going on, so's Ginny's, maybe you're pre-menstrual?" Ginny giggled, Ron and Harry looked away as though confronted with obscene photos rather than the words of one of their best friends, and respective girlfriends.

Justine's United States drawl snuck into the room with several terrifying words: "I dreamt about Fred." Ron turned ashen, Ginny gasped. Hermione dug her fingernails into Ron's arm and bit her lip. Harry sat up so abruptly that the Levitation spell he was using to direct The Covenant to the shelf was deflected, the case clattering to the floor. "Oh, Ron, Ginny, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to bring him up, not in a bad way," Justine murmured, her eyes dry, while the other girls' became sopping.

"But, you've never even seen him!" Hermione tried to subdue her tears, but at the sight of Ron's glistening eyelashes, she began to sob again.

Justine, sprawled over the chair, seemed strangely out of place with no one beside her, not crying haphazardly against her boyfriend as both Ginny and Hermione now did. She shook her head. "No. I came after the war ended. After he died. After Harry killed Voldemort." Ron winced. He hadn't in a long time, but this moment of reflection and sadness renewed the old fear.

"It took place during the wedding. And you and me, Hermione, we were fighting over a dress, and Ginny and Harry, you were back together. And Fred was making fun of you two kissing. And Fleur was wearing an awful dress," she trembled, coughed, continued: "It was a funny dream. It wasn't a nightmare. No, not at all. It was happy. Really happy once you and me stopped fighting. It was very jolly and sweet and Fred was so funny. But it wasn't real."

"Maybe he wants us to just remember the good bits," George was standing behind Kreacher. He'd apparently Apparated into the house at the mention of his brother's name. Justine stood up, motioned to her chair for George to sit in. George sat, she sat on the arm. He took her hand unconciously.

"But how could that happen? Unless he's a ghost, or he's managed to reach Justine like Dumbledore reached Harry, which involved Harry dying, mind you, it's not possible!" Ron rubbed his nose and it was Hermione's turn to pat him softly. Ginny nodded in agreement.

"I dunno," George sighed, "but remember the happy parts. It's what he would've wanted. He's my twin. I would know. And, really, it's been hard. Angelina's given up on me, you know, left me a few weeks ago. That didn't help. But I can still hear him, being so worried about me," he touched his ear, the one that had been chopped off, but was now good as new, "and I just know that he wants us to laugh. Like I wanted him to laugh even though I was hurt. Don't cry. Laugh, smile, remember." He shrugged, at peace with the loss of his twin, his other half. Justine stroked his soft, ginger hair. "I wish you could have met him," he murmured, closing his eyes. Justine laughed a small, quiet laugh.

"But I have! You're his twin, George. And Ron, Ginny, they're his family members. And your mom and dad and brothers! I met him when I met you. And I think he's wonderful. In my dream he was," she leaned over and kissed George on the crown of his head. "If you people are going to stay up and watch movies, watch the Lion King and the Lion King 2. You'll understand. 'He lives in you.' And you are wonderful, so he will always be wonderful. Wasn't he before? I think yes. In fact, I know." She smiled, climbing into the chair with George and snuggling against his chin; he slowly slipped his arms around her as she added, "Fred's always been with us. He will be with us forever."

And "All was well." Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Rowling, 2007) pg 759

There you go. An ode to Fred.

R&R. Thanks for reading.

YAYY for fluffy ending. Wow. I'm so not a fluff person.

Teehee. R&R pleaseplease.

--moi :3