DISCLAIMER: See chapters one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, and twelve.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE LAST STRAW?

Fred?

George?

Where are we?

I don't know.

Dead?

Perhaps.

I didn't think it would be like this.

Like what?

So red.

I know... it's like when you first wake up, and the sunlight is shining through your eyelids.

It is like that. Except I can't open my eyes.

Did you try?

Yeah. My head hurts.

Mine too. So does my belly.

Mine too.

George?

Fred?

Maybe if we hurt it means we aren't dead.

Maybe.

Try to open your eyes.

I don't want to. I'm comfortable.

Dead or not, you're free.

Don't talk like that. We are free.

We're free.

George...

Fred?

My eyes are open.

Your eyes are open?

Yes, barely.

What do you see?

You.

Me?

Yes.

You see me?

Yes.

What am I doing?

Laying here.

Where?

I don't know.

You don't know?

No. Heaven, maybe? It's awfully blurry... your head is wrapped...

I have a wrap on my head?

You do.

Why?

I don't know.

Unwrap me.

I can't move.

Why not?

I hurt too much. What's happened?

You don't remember?

Not really.

What do you remember?

Having a body again... and dying with you.

I don't think we died, Freds.

Whatever. It doesn't matter. Thank you, George.

For what?

For getting rid of Volde-

Now don't go saying his name. Even if we are dead... I don't ever want to hear that name again.

Blimey, George. He's not Bloody Mary Queen of Death, or the bleedin' Candyman, or Kansas. He's not going to appear out of nowhere if you say his name three times. I just want to thank you for-

Kansas? What the hell is that suppose to mean?

You know, there's no place like home- click your heels three times?

I think you're the one with the head injury.

Damn it George, all I mean was that he's not going come waltzing into the room just because you say-

You're welcome, Fred.

Voldemort.

Stop it!

Voldemort Voldemort Voldemort Vol-

Fred, I mean it! Knock it off!

Sorry. Just don't be afraid.

God I missed you.

I love you, George.

You're getting all sappy again.

Well pardon me! This whole experience has been rather an emotional one, you know?

Tell me about it, git... Freds?

Yes George.

I love you too.

* * * * * *

"They said there wasn't anything left to be done for you," Charlie whispered to deaf ears. "So we brought you home, to live or to die. You're home, brother."

Charlie sat, his skin burning, and took Bill's cold hand, bringing to his face, shutting his eyes, and sighing deeply.

He would not let himself cry.

"He's gone, Billyam... it's okay to come back."

Bill's white eyes stared, unseeing, at the ceiling. Though his chest rose and fell, his skin still glowed orange. His jaw hung open, no tongue alive to wet his dry and cracked lips.

"Come back, Bill. I know you're in there somewhere," Charlie pleaded, "I know you must be scared... but He's gone. He's right back where he started..."

Charlie flattened the cold, dry hand against his cheek.

"Ron's going to be fine, Bill. And Fred and George- well, Fred and George will be fine, too, because they'll be together no matter what happens to them- and you are going to be fine, too, Billy."

The colorless eyes blinked.

"I'm sorry I yelled at you. Bill, please..."

Charlie began to weep, crying all over Bill's cold hand. He chuckled miserably and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his robes. "Snotted all over you, Bill. Aren't you going to yell at me?"

The colorless eyes blinked once more.

"Funerals are tomorrow, for John and Quentin. John killed himself... he was nice enough to go back home to do it... wasn't that considerate of him, Bill? So we didn't have to come home from the hospital just now and find his body?" Charlie choked back a sob that was threatening to escape. It gnawed at his chest.

The eyes blinked.

"How much do you remember of Uncle John and Aunt Marie? I don't remember anything, really. But Mum says we were sent there when she was pregnant with Fred and George, cause she was on bed rest for awhile... remember when you beat me up? I think that was at Uncle John and Aunt Marie's, cause I remember you shoving my face in hay. Remember that? You were so mad- I pushed you into a big pile of cow shit, remember, Bill? I didn't know it was cow shit... I just thought it would be funny to see you sitting in it. And you beat me up, Bill. It was the first and only time, because I got bigger than you. Percy toddled in and went and told on us for fighting- remember how he could barely talk, but he always managed to tattle? You and I used to joke, Bill, when we were really young, about how we were liberated- remember that? We were liberated from Percy's watchful eye, after the twins got old enough to walk and talk..."

Charlie put Bill's cold, dry hand over his eyes and allowed himself a single, barely audible sob.
"Don't get me wrong, Bill. I love the guy. He's Percy, you know? And he's calming down, wouldn't you say, Bill?"

Charlie quietly studied Bill's hand for a long moment.

"Yeah, Aunt Marie died a long time ago. I remember when Mum told us... you were teaching me how to play chess... and I remember I didn't care much that she was dead. Well, I suppose it's not that I didn't care... it's that I didn't remember her, so how could I be sad over her death? Can you imagine how horrible to must have been for Uncle John, Bill? Then he was left with a Squib for a son... You went right on teaching me how to play chess, and we played all day long, but I heard you crying that night, Bill, because you remembered her. She must have been a nice lady, Bill. I stayed up and listened to you cry, trying so hard to keep quiet so you didn't upset your little brothers... you were always stronger than me. I don't know if I could be strong for everyone if something happened to you. I don't want to be the oldest, Bill. You're better at it."

The white eyes blinked, Bill's chest rising and falling, rising and falling.

"I know you aren't dead, Bill. I wish I could jumped into your head and fight off whatever poison of His that's keeping you sick, Bill, but I can't. That's your department, Bill. I can only deal with solid things. Dragons are solid. Fred and George were solid. You were solid. I'll drag you around for the rest of my life, Bill, just the way you are, and I'll force feed you and wipe your ass if I have to, but I'd rather you got better. Be alive, Bill. You're strong, Bill. Don't let His hold on you last forever."

Charlie waited.

After a long time, he wipe his eyes, replaced Bill's hand, and left the room.

He came into the kitchen to see Percy destroying the room further, if that was possible. For a moment Charlie stood fascinated by this uncharacteristic fit of rage. He watched Percy tear the leg off the overturned dining room table and bash it against the counter until it was wood chippings. He approached the charred books on the mantel and shoved them off onto the floor in one swipe, then stomped on them with such fury that Charlie nearly laughed, despite himself.

"Perce! What's wrong?"

"He got away! The LITTLE BASTARD got away!" Percy roared, putting his foot thought the icebox.

"Hey now, calm down," said Charlie, grabbing Percy by the elbows, "who's gotten away?"

"The boy!" Percy growled, breaking free from his brother and attempting to tear the icebox door off its hinges.

"Percy, don't make me sedate you. Just tell me what else you're so upset about."

Percy stopped his fit dead, sucked in a breath, and held it until he was blue. When he finally exhaled, he seemed to be very slightly calmed. "The Little Death-Eater in training. Mini-Voldemort. How do you think I knew where you guys were? I practically had to slit his throat to get him to spill. Then I was in such a rush to get to Diagon Alley that I forgot the spell wears off! I AM SO FUCKING STUPID!"

Percy began to thrash about. Charlie caught him and held him firmly.

"Stop," he said into his brother's ear. "He's gone. There is nothing you can do. He was one of many Death-Eaters. It doesn't matter."

Percy tried to break free, grumbling under his breath.

"Perce..."

Percy went limp. He sobbed, exhausted, into Charlie's shoulder. "Good God Charlie, what if the twins-"

"-they won't, Perce. Don't start talking like that."

"What if Bill-"

"-he'll be fine. Ron will be fine. We'll all be just fine." Charlie held Percy for a long time, rigid- faced, telling himself that crying, too, would only make it worse.

He wished he could believe his own words.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

His stomach ached and burned.

George felt hands shaking him. His heart sank. It had all been a sweet, delirious dream, upon a nightmare upon another nightmare. Voldemort had just killed Charlie and wanted him to get up...

I won't get up, thought George bitterly, I'm not brave, and my family isn't big or happy anymore. I'm nothing you hate. Leave me alone to die-

"Georgie! Wake up!"

George's eyes flew open. Voldemort was lying next to him, smiling so happily, so sweetly it was unbelievable - George sat up and stared at him. He leapt from the bed and was overcome by dizziness, his head pounding. He clamped his eyes shut and ran into a wall. It was warm wall that was closing tightly around him, lifting him off the floor.

"Please just leave me alone!" George moaned.

"George, it's me!" said a voice that sounded like Charlie. "It's us!"

George buried his face in the warmth. The wall, decidedly arms, held him tighter. "What's happening? What are you going to do to me now!"

"You're home, George. Open your eyes. Don't be afraid, it's just us."

He was sitting on the bed again. He vowed not to open his eyes. He didn't want to see. He could not stand to look at Voldemort one more time.

"Georgie, it's al-"
"-STOP CALLING ME THAT!"

"George, it's me!"

George felt a warm hand on his arm.

Warm.

He opened his eyes and saw his brother. He saw Fred. Only Fred. But could he possibly believe it? He rubbed his eyes and looked again, and Fred was still smiling up at him.

"Fred?"

Fred nodded.

For a long moment George could only stare, his entire body trembling. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. An incredible warmth filled in the freezing, hollow space of his body.

Fred's eyes, moist, hoping desperately for recognition.

Fred's eyes.

Nothing else.

Only Fred.

"Oh God FRED!" George's blood surged. He grabbed Fred around the neck- felt his familiar face- and sobbed. He could hear Fred underneath him, shaking too, sobbing too... for a few minutes they could only cry silently, together, for each other, for themselves, for their family, for Quentin, and for what had happened. George didn't think he could ever hold Fred tight enough, and cried for fear of having to let him go.

"I'm not going anywhere, George. I can't," Fred gasped, and George laughed into his brother's hair and squeezed him tighter. "Let go now, you're hurting my belly."

"Your hair stinks. You need to wash it." George told him, feeling ecstatically drunk. He let Fred have his head and neck back, but kept his hand. He looked down at his twin, who smiled up at him. George bounced up and down on the bed, laughing giddily.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, Georgie." said another voice.

George looked passed Fred for the first time and saw Percy, squinting at him.

He was sitting in a chair next to the bed, Charlie beside him. They had dark bags under their eyes, looking as though they hadn't slept in days, but were beaming all the same.

George gaped at them, then back at Fred, and couldn't help but hop up and down a little more. A pain shot through his already sore stomach, and he smiled widely. "You hurt, Fred!"

Fred pursed his lips, putting a protective hand on the bandages that layered his stomach. "I do, no thanks to you. Stop shaking the bed!"

George nearly dove on him, but restrained himself. Instead he hopped up and down a little more, feeling the ache in his middle sharpen. "Fred! You hurt bad! I could kiss you!"

"Please don't. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm extremely happy to see you, but-"

"Oh, leave off!" George lay back down, hugging Fred's arm.

"Perhaps a bit of a snog later, but right now I'm in quite a bit of pain-"

"Oh shut it. You know what I meant. I'm just glad you're not..." George was too happy, he didn't want to ruin it by finishing his thought.

Oh, the joy that flooded over him! He felt as if he'd come in out of a blizzard and someone had sat him near a fire and given him a gigantic gulp of firewater. That jittery feeling, the uneasy sensation of having forgotten something important, the cold that had made permanent goose-bumps on his neck, was gone. Fred was next to him, George had a hold of him, and all felt well.

"How long have we been out, Perce?" asked Fred a little weakly, his eyes closing.

"Nearly a week," he replied, wiping his red-rimmed eyes.

"Aw, Perce. How sweet!"

"I'm not crying!" Percy insisted, "My eyes are strained. I broke my glasses beyond repair."

"Sure," George poked.

Percy ruffled and huffed, but smiled, wiped his eyes again, and said nothing.

"You broke your glasses? But I saw-"

"They sell Polyjuice at Diagon Alley, you know."

"Bloody brilliant," complimented George.

"Thank you. You owe me two galleons- and new pair of glasses."

George grunted in agreement. "Charlie?"

"Yeah, kid."

"Not that I'm complaining, but... how come you're alive?"

Charlie smirked, flexing his rather large bicep. "I'm a Dragon-Keeper. Got to have lightening fast reflexes. We're trained to act dead at the colony. It's best if the dragons think you've already died, if they go on a rampage."

Percy snorted and rolled his eyes. "He was so scared of Voldemort that he fell off the bed and knocked himself out cold."

"Shut up, crybaby." Charlie knocked him on the shoulder. He turned back to George and shrugged. "The curse just missed my nose. So I like I said, I played dead."

Percy loudly cleared his throat.

Charlie gave them a crooked smiled, "...when I regained consciousness, of course."

"Voldemort was so busy trying to stop you from hearing me that he didn't notice the curse missed," mumbled Fred, his eyes still shut.

George flinched. "I don't ever want to hear that name again. He knew that we-?"

Fred nodded, yawning.

"He could hear us? The whole time?"

"No, but he could feel that we were talking. I don't want to talk about it. It doesn't matter. He's right back where he started now. I'll tell you how awful it was some other time." All the talking seemed to exhaust Fred. He sighed heavily, his eyelids drooping.

"You brought it up!" said George playfully. "And I'll tell you how awful it was some other time, too."

"Merlin's Beard, am I tired."

"I'm too happy to be tired!"

"Ah, well, you didn't get an enormous sharp something-rather in the belly, did you?" Fred pretended to be irritated, but gave George's arm a squeeze. "And I've got your bleedin' headache!"

"I'll get you something for it, Freds," Percy offered.

Fred didn't answer. He was already asleep.

"George," Charlie said.

Just his tone had already caused George to feel slightly disquieted. He didn't like the way his elder brother was scratching his arm and avoiding his gaze.

"What's wrong?"

Charlie gave Percy a sideways glance. Percy's face was unreadable, as it was bunched up in a squint.

...before he rots away from the inside out...

"Bill!" George moaned. "Don't tell me-!"

"He's alive, George, calm down," Charlie assured him, his face reflecting great restraint, "but you should see him as soon as possible."

"But not right now!" Percy said firmly as George was making a move to sit, "You did quite a number on your head. You are to stay in bed and not move."

"Ron-"

"Ron is fine," said Charlie, "Mum and Dad are with him now at St. Mungo's. He's awake and recovering."

"Bill, however," added Percy, his voice cracking slightly, "Bill they sent home. Said there wasn't anything else they could do for him."

"But," Charlie said to Percy, "That's exactly what they said about the twins, and the twins, obviously, are going to be just fine. Bill's going to be fine. "

Neither one of them looked very convinced.

George tried not to think about any of it. It was easy, with Fred next to him. He slept quite heavily.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

A week later Bill's chest was still rising and falling, but there was no change. The twins crept into his bedroom that night, Fred leaning heavily on George.

It hurt very much to look at him. Their eldest brother was a sad sight. He was undressed save a thin sheet thrown around his middle. His burned scalp had been wrapped in gauze, creating an absurd looking turban on his head. His body was gleaming with sweat, and despite Charlie feeding him regularly, he had lost a great deal more weight. George could see his ribs individually. His skin no longer glowed, in and out, in and out, but was orange steadily, as if Bill had some exotic form of jaundice. The ten gashes on either arm had become bright scars.

Charlie was finally sleeping, though uncomfortably it seemed, in a chair next to Bill's bed. His head was thrown back and he snored quietly.

"What's wrong with him?" George whispered, helping Fred to sit on the bed. "Why is Ron getting better while Bill is..." He couldn't finish.

Fred stared at Bill, shaking his head, his lower lip quivering. In a weak voice he said, "Voldemort cursed Ron, and Voldemort is gone... for now... so his magic has no hold. But I did this, George. I did this."

"You couldn't have."

"I was so angry, George. We were both there at the time. Me and Voldemort. Together. I wanted to hurt Bill for trying to make me feel better. I wanted him to feel what I was feeling. I broke his skin, and a little of what was festering inside me, I gave to him. Voldemort gave me the power, George, but I did this to Bill."

Fred let out a tiny moan, putting a trembling hand over his mouth. He rubbed the still-bandaged wound on his stomach with the other arm.

George put his hand on his twin's shoulder. "Don't cry, Fred. We'll fix it."

"How can we fix it?" Fred moaned, "I don't even know what I did!"

Silence.

"I don't know," George said hollowly. "I don't know. I wish we could just- flush it out somehow."

There was a bowl of water on the nightstand next to the bed. Fred wrung out the rag swimming in it, and gently began to wipe the sweat from Bill's face.

The white, blind eyes blinked.

In unison, twin faces broke into identical grins.

Fred looked at George. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Of course," George replied, "But surely it wouldn't-"

"-go on, then."

George ran from the room.

Not five minutes later he sat on one side of Bill, Fred on the other. In George's hand, a little piece of red candy, innocent looking and smelling sweetly of strawberries.

"I hope this works," George whispered.

"It won't hurt."

"We'll get in a lot of trouble if it doesn't, but we've got to try it."

"It's going to work, George. Now shut up and put it in his mouth."

George did as he was told, and they waited.

Minutes passed.

A gurgle emerge from Bill's throat. A watery orange liquid began to trickle from his ears. He coughed, sending a spray of the liquid across his chest and the white sheet. It gushed out his eyes- which were blinking madly- he sneezed and more of the orange liquid came pouring out from every hole in his face.

The twins stood back.

Bill sat up and turned a ghostly shade of white as he choked up the bright orange liquid. As it poured out, Fred and George could see his pupils returning- the brown of his eyes-

"What the fu-" Bill croaked, spitting up another gallon or so.

He sat up suddenly, causing the twins to jump and recoil.

Bill looked down at himself, sitting in an inch of orange liquid, then at the twins, and suddenly looked very angry. "What the hell are you two doing! Trying to see if you'd gotten the fake blood to thicken, were you? You think this is funny?"

Charlie jerked awake and his jaw dropped. "William!"

"Why am I naked, anyway? Did you put them up to this?" Bill demanded, "Ah, this is very funny... look at me... soaking wet..."

He continued to complain under his breath as he threw the sheet aside. Soon all the orange was gone, and just a pale red, the color of diluted blood, was gushing from his nose and ears.

Fred and George sniggered, using every ounce of self control not to laugh.

"Well, damn it, Charlie," Bill spat, "Don't just stand there checking out my willy! Get me something dry, will you? Perhaps a towel... ah, twinsies... damn you... it's not so funny on this end!"

Charlie and George lost it. Their laughter echoed off the walls. Fred had dropped to the floor, rolling around, writhing in pain, and chuckling with joy. Bill only stared irritably at them.

"It's still too watery, Georgie!" Fred laughed.

George winced. "Freds?"

"Hmm?"

"Please don't ever call me that again."

The family ghoul could be heard upstairs in the attic, abandoning it's chains and howling in misery.

THE END

Like I said on my review page... sorry it took so long, and I was just kidding about the 200 more reviews... come on now, I wouldn't do that! I still want more, however. :)

Okay, it's true. I am too big of a weenie to kill any of the Weasleys. Not even one. At least not in this story, probably because I tortured them so much... I thought they deserved a happy ending, and besides, I planned it that way. Thank you millions and millions to all of my readers... special thanks to Rocky and Animagus-Steph...

I hope none of you are disappointed. Please review, and watch for my other fics, coming soon! Also watch for the revised edition of "Undone." Thanks again!