People were always so curious. They’d take one look at them and wonder what their childhood could have been like, what they missed out on, the experience of having someone understand you better than yourself just by existing, the feeling of another by your side. But most don’t have that. And so they Ask. ‘What is it like to be a twin?’ To which they’d smirk at each other and quip the first thought that sparked between them.
“Like a bloody mirror everywhere.”
“Bit difficult to see his face.”
They kept asking and longing, which annoyed Fred. It annoyed George, too, but he hides it better.
People would laugh with them. ‘Partners in crime’, they’d call them. ‘How does your mother handle you lot?’ At age 10, all it took was one glance across the kitchen for them to double over in laughter and be kicked out of the room.
Fred and George laugh with each other like they’re the only ones privy to the joke—which most of the time, they are. Sometimes, George notices that it makes other people uncomfortable. It confuses him, really. The resentment in Percy’s eyes, the jealousy in Charlie’s voice, the silence from Bill. It is second nature to read Fred, but George doesn’t understand his other brothers.
‘What’s it like to be a twin?’
They’re lying on the roof of the burrow, some hours after their mom wished them goodnight, their first night after a year in a magical castle. A weak warming charm turns the frigid air into a subtle chill.
George stares at a distant star. “It’s just natural, innit? The way it was supposed to be.” His brother hums at the new topic, easily following George’s thoughts.
Fred’s eyes are not on the stars. Instead, he twirls his wand around his short fingers, determined to impress their new friend, Lee, with the trick when they return to Hogwarts. "Got nothing else to compare it to, eh, Georgie?” his tongue peaks out.
“Guess not.”
A long moment passes as they breathe together. “Fate.”
“Fate?”
“Yeah,” Fred sits up, discarding his wand and forcing George to do the same. “It’s kinda like fate, no? Like it was always supposed to us.” The sincerity in his eyes startles George. “Can’t have one twin without the other– would ruin the symmetry!” Fred huffs, flopping to the ground and sticking his tongue out in a frankly pathetic attempt at playing dead. He looks at George, “Well, what does it feel like without me?”
George, sitting on the wooden roof of their childhood home and staring down at his fallen brother, wonders if the chill running down his spine is from their weak warming charm. A strange feeling crawls down his lungs and buries itself in his chest. Unnatural, he wants to reply. But another word claws at his throat. He doesn’t know why he says it. Maybe he’s replaying their conversation and getting stuck on the word. George’s voice answers, but not him, “Fate.”
“Huh!?” His brother kicks him in the shin and drags him down. “I’ll show you fate, wanker!”
Later, when they’ve climbed through their window and lay with heavy eyelids, Fred whispers into their room like a secret, “You and me.”
“Promise?” George mumbles.
“Promise.” They made many promises to each other, but only two really mattered. This was the first.
They’re standing on a random balcony on Hogwart’s 6th floor. The stone railing they lean against is dusty but somehow polished enough to reflect the barrelling of spells hitting the magical shield above the school.
“That’s a lot of death eaters.” His brother needlessly points out.
“Shit, good eye. Think McGonagall knows?” George smiles.
“Nah, we should definitely tell her.”
“Wouldn’t want to undermine her, though.”
“No, she should be fully capable of noticing herself.”
“Cats eye are better in the dark.”
“I knew her feline features would come in handy.”
Their eyes drift to the courtyard below. McGonagall, Kingsley, their mom, and a handful of Order members have their wands raised to the sky. Younger students are still being ushered into the school. The remaining students clutch their wands like it will keep them alive—which it probably won’t. Some look panicked or determined, but most look hopeless. Their vacant look screams acceptance. George wonders if he looks like that.
George wonders what death will look like. Will he have a cloak like the stories and greet him like an old friend, or will he be cruel and steal his life from his body?
“You alright, Georgie?” Fred asks. Their warming charm is starting to wear off. George doesn’t remember who cast it.
“‘Course,” his voice cracks. His brother huffs.
“Well, I’m bloody convinced.” A moment passes. The curses drown out their breath.
“You okay, Freddie?” George fiddles with the top of his wand.
“Yea.”
“Me too.” Either the spells are getting louder or his heart is in his ears. George wonders how the barrier will break. He pictures it cracking like a spiderweb and crashing to the ground as broken glass. He pictures it slowly fading until the spells no longer ricochet. Or perhaps it will start with a hole– One lucky spell that expands until they’re vulnerable.
“It’s going to break,” Fred says. George wonders if Fred had been thinking of ways to reinforce it.
“There are too many of them.” George replies.
“‘Suppose.”
“There are too few of us.” George insists. Fred only nods in response. “I hope Ron makes it out,” George probably shouldn’t be saying this, but now seems like a better time than never. “and Ginny, they probably deserve it more. Life.” he pauses, “What would we even do with it?” His eyes are wet.
“You’re going to make it out, Georgie.” His brother states firmly. But they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder, and he can feel the tremor in his words.
“It was a rhetorical question.” A silent tear runs down his cheek.
“I hope you make it out, George.” He knows his brother tried for a mocking tone, but it comes out sincere.
“I can’t live without you; I’d die.” It is easy for George to say because it is true. The only George-less future he could imagine was a Fred-less one. His resolve is quite simple, really. What is the point of life without the boy who is life itself?
“Nah, you definitely could.” His brother says like his death is a regular topic. “Imagine what you could do with all the pity!” Fred exclaims, pushing off the railing to wildly gesture as he continues, “Oh sorry about the late bills, I’m grieving my brother. Was rent due already? It must have come during the funeral. Boring minestry event? Sorry, no one-”
“Merlin, Fred.” George sighs, but a smile falls into place. “If all it took was a wizarding war for you to admit you wanted me gone, I would have waged one myself.”
They settle together again, cheeks wet, watching the spells like fireworks.
“You’ll be alright, Georgie,” Fred whispers. Their warming charm is gone, and they won’t have to cast a new one. “I promise.”
The barrier cracks like glass.