Okay, I'm still obsessing over this from book seven and this little idea has been swimming around my head since. Please forgive me for this silliness; if it stays in my brain for much longer I'm afraid I may believe it to be real.

Some of the information is based loosely on what Rowling has said in various interviews and all of it is based on my memory, not from a recent reading of any of the series. Please let me know if anything is factually, grammatically, culturally, politically, etc. incorrect and I'll gladly fix it. I don't even like some of the info (you know, like the whole Fred being dead thing).

Other than that, I wish I owned the twins (but I don't own any of this stuff) and enjoy!

The Greatest Things Come in Large, Very Flat Forms

It had come in the form of a present from his mother, George's biggest blessing. Sure, he could tell you that his greatest blessing had been his beautiful marriage to a certain Miss Angelina Johnson or the birth of their first child, Fred (he was still grateful Angie had agreed to the name, he wasn't really sure he could have accepted anything else,) or even the almost miraculous success of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but he would be lying.

He didn't even remember what the celebration had been from when the gift had been presented to him. All he remembered, really, was his mother's eager face as he looked at his newfound treasure in shock.

"I thought you might need this a little more than I do," she had explained and he couldn't do much but nod absently. Later he wouldn't be able to thank her enough, but at the moment he had been too busy looking into the eyes of his grinning, waving brother.

It was just a portrait, of course, but it was more detailed and much larger than anything George had; in fact, it was just large enough that the visage of Fred was about the same size as George's as he gazed back into it. Finally, the portrait stuck its tongue out after it decided George had been staring at it for too long, and Angelina had suggested they hang it right away.

He had been debating with her where to hang it when they discovered that portrait-Fred was a talker, too – something that he seemed to enjoy very much (and really, George wasn't surprised.) He told them he wanted to be hung in the store, where he could watch all their pranks happen best, and where he could help George the most. The couple heartily agreed and Fred had been hanging above the main counter since.

And every day, the portrait did just as it promised (which was much better than just hanging with all his other siblings' portraits, he assured George,) offering advice and suggestions for new products and being an extra laugh at any particularly good prank displayed in the store. It even told him to go home if portrait-Fred felt George had been away from his wife and child 

("Children, you dolt," it even reminded him once shortly before the birth of Roxanne, "You've let the Daydream Charm in that holy head of yours, haven't you?") for too long. The lone twin couldn't have been more grateful for the unexpected company despite its complete lack of a physical body and aging process. Because of course portraits didn't age, and portrait-Fred would always laugh because his hair would never be as grey as George's had become. He wouldn't complain, though, because he knew they'd be identical again when they met back up, wherever that was going to be.

No, it may not have been the real thing, but George wasn't going to complain.

"You know, if your hair turns purple again because you're staring off, I'm not going to stop laughing for a week."

It was close enough for him, for now.

"Oh, drop dead, Fred."

Yeah, again, sorry for the overused and the silly. I feel much better now though, even if this came out much more awkwardly than I wanted it. And short, blech.

I figured this would be ok without looking too much into it. I mean, Snape had a Dumbledore portrait, why can't Molly have a few of her children?