Games over (one-shots)

[Live4weaslys]

Hello. These are some one-shots ive been working one.

I hope you like.

Im going to satrt with fred and george oneshots
I own None of the characters.


The sorting of fred.

"Weas—"

Her voice broke. There was an uncomfortable silence, students shifted in their seats and twisted their faces into looks of concern while Minerva still stared at the parchment. Weasley, Fred it said, and then after the name, a II that was written as if mocking her, to prove that this Fred Weasley was not the first, would never be the first. She stared down at the list, an unfamiliar lump in her throat seeming to block her breath, and her fingers almost broke through the parchment. Weasley, Fred II, Weasley, Fred II, Weasley, Fred II.

She looked up and saw Fred II, the last first-year left to be sorted. He was staring at her wryly. Minerva had the uncomfortable feeling he knew exactly what she was thinking, because that was what everyone thought when they looked at him. Fred. And once again Minerva thought about the unfairness of it all, the cruelty of a life cut short at twenty years old. One moment Fred Weasley had been alive. Breathing, laughing. And then he wasn't. Why? Why hadn't it been her, an old woman who sometimes felt that she had experienced far too much life?

Minerva remembered May 2nd, 1998, exactly two years before Victoire Weasley was born. She remembered seeing Fred's body lying almost exactly where his nephew was now standing; she remembered the brief moment of panic, Fred or George?, before realizing that the body had both ears intact, and that the young man kneeling over the head had a gaping hole where an ear should have been; she remembered staring at the body of the boy she had taught – the boy she had watched grow up – disbelievingly, sure that at any moment Fred would sit up and wipe off the blood that had trickled from the corner of his mouth; she remembered the fact that he hadn't, and she remembered the weight that had seemed to settle on her shoulders the moment she accepted the fact that he had died, the weight that had lightened slightly throughout the years, but had never been completely lifted; she remembered how he had just laid there, his face pale, his eyes open and unblinking, his characteristically bright hair in disarray, and his lips turned up slightly with his last laugh. Wasn't it fitting, Minerva had thought, that Fred Weasley had died laughing?

"Weasley, Fred II," she said loudly, cutting off the students murmurings. She watched as Fred walked, rather slowly and with a weariness that worried Minerva, to sit on the three-legged stool. He didn't look at her as he sat, nor did he acknowledge Minerva's slight intake of breath as she remembered putting this same, worn old hat onto another Fred Weasley. The hat slipped over his eyes, and he gripped the edge of the chair with his fingers.

"Gryffindor!" the sorting hat finally shouted.

[Live4weaslys]

All Harry Potter characters belong to J. K. Rowling.

George lay in his bed, his back facing the wall of his room. It was where he had been for the past six days. In the room he had shared with Fred. He hadn't ever been alone. Not like this, anyway. Not until…

No, he thought, I won't think of those things. He sighed, and a tear rolled down his cheek. If only I could talk to him, he sobbed. Just one more time. Plan one more joke.

George let his mind wander, and all too soon, he remembered something Fred had said.

Flashback

George was sitting in the room he shared with Fred, staring out the window. Outside, the sky was grey and rain was falling heavily on the ground. He was crying and had been silently sitting here for several hours.

Yesterday his Uncle Bilius (from the third book; Bilius saw the Grim. See, people, I did my research) had died; today they had gotten the news. Uncle Bilius was his favorite uncle. However, he'd seen the Grim and died the next day. And so George sat here, mourning, telling Ginny and Ron to leave him alone, watching the weather that reflected his mood, and waiting for his mother to come upstairs and tell him to come downstairs with everyone else. Thankfully, Fred could tell that he wanted to be left alone, and had gone downstairs.

George was, therefore, surprised when he heard Fred say his name.

"George," Fred said, as a way of announcing himself. George whipped his head around, and Fred cast his eyes to the ground. "If you…ever want to talk to…anyone – about…anything, really…" he said, the last part coming out faster than the rest. He looked into George's eyes and finished, "find me, and I'll be happy to listen. You've just got to find me." He turned on his heel and walked down the hall, leaving George to his thoughts.

End Flashback

Even then, George could relieve his feelings just by being with Fred. After talking to him, George would come back laughing.

He sobbed even harder. "Fred," he cried aloud, "Fred, I know where you are but…but I can't reach. I can't reach you, Fred." George sobbed even harder as another memory came to him.

It was when they were seven. They had just learned how to climb up trees. Fred was better because he could reach those higher branches without becoming too scared to move on by looking down. This particular day, Fred had reached a new high branch, a branch George wasn't able to get to with his fear of heights.

"Fred, I can't reach you," George had whined. "How'd you get way up there?"

"Join me, George," Fred had said, and then further instructed George how to get up high without getting scared. Once George had climbed his way up and was sitting next to Fred on the branch, Fred had said, "George, always join me. No matter where you are, or where I am, or what we have to do to get to each other, no matter what the price is, always join me."

"Always join me," Fred's words rang from the past in George's ear. He should join Fred. It'd make my pain go away, George thought. The pain…the horrible pain. George's brain switched into overload. He had to get this done. He'd murder himself, just the way Fred had been murdered. But... he thought, I'll leave a note for everyone, to ease their pain. No…not a note, something sadder. A song, he thought in sudden inspiration. A death song. Yeah, and I'll change the words…the words to…Danny Boy. And so, for the next half hour, George rewrote the words to the first verse of "Danny Boy."

When George was finished, he stood up, the note he had written in one hand, his wand pointed towards himself in the other. With a flash of green light, George Weasley fell to the ground.

Molly Weasley was in the kitchen of the Burrow getting lunch ready for the five children that were home. Bill was at his house with his wife, Fleur, and Fred…Fred…well; no one would ever see Fred again, at least not in this world. Tuna sandwiches were being made for everyone; they were George's favorite, and she was hoping to lure him downstairs with them.

She started up the stairs, pausing at the first landing to ask Ginny and Charlie to come downstairs for lunch, and then continued all the way upstairs to yell to Ron to come down. Molly made her way back down to the second landing, where Percy and George slept. After asking Percy to come down for lunch, she continued down the hall to George's room.

Molly knocked softly before entering. She looked around, and saw her fourth son laying on the floor, his wand clutched in one hand, a note in the other. He looked like he had eaten a fainting fancy. He was holding it out, as though he wanted someone to read it. Not sure if she was the right "someone," she took the note out of his hand and read it. First came what looked like a poem, then a letter.

Oh Mother, dear

My twin, my twin is calling.

From sky to sea

His voices all reach me.

Now he is gone

And through pain I am dying.

Tis my, Tis my

Mum, it's my turn to die.

Dear Mum,

I did this because of me. It was my pain that convinced me to do this; please tell everyone that none of this was their fault. The lyrics above explain everything; they match the tune "Danny Boy." The pain of his death was too much; I beg everyone to forgive me for the pain I am causing them by doing this. Please, Mum, sing it aloud at my funeral for everyone to hear. Make sure no one wears black to the funeral; I'd hate looking down at a black funeral from heaven, if that's where I go. I want everyone to be happy; just think, in heaven, I'll have both ears back.

Send everyone my love,

George.

Molly looked down at her son, shocked and on the verge of tears. She checked for a pulse, and muttered "Ennervate," almost knowing the answer she'd get before she got it. She shook George. He lay still, in the position she'd left him.

"GEORGE!" she cried. Flinging herself over her dead son's body, she sobbed uncontrollably. The pitter-patter of her children running up the stairs could barely be heard over her cries.

Ron, Ginny, Charlie, and Percy appeared in the doorway. All screamed when they saw their mother on the floor, over their brother. All realized that it was not only Fred that would never again be seen in this world. George Weasley had gone to join his brother, finding him, wherever he was, no matter what the cost.

[Live4weaslys]

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Like, at all.

Interchangeable

Fred and I were easily interchangeable. We were twins; Gred and Forge. No one, not even Mum, knew which one we were.

Until Fred had his ear cut off.

Until Fred died.

You know, I'd never really loved anyone romantically, not the way Fred did. I could tell he loved Angelina—hell, I knew before he knew. To me, his twin brother, it was obvious.

Angelina loved Fred, too—but that meant, by extension, she loved me. The only way she could tell the difference between us was the way he flirted with her.

Before the battle, that terrible final battle when Fred died, he spoke to me.

"George," he said.

"Yes, oh-brother-of-mine?" I asked.

"If anything happens to me—"

"Nothing will," I interrupted him firmly. I was a fool…

He smiled. "Yeah, right. But if anything does—look after Angelina for me, will you? Make sure she's happy."

I was surprised. "Yeah, sure," I agreed.

He grabbed me and looked me in the eyes. "You promise?" he questioned me fiercely.

I looked at him in astonishment. "Yeah, of course—it's me, Fred, remember?"

"Right." He let me go, shaking his head. "Sorry. Don't know what I was thinking. It's just…"

I smiled at him. "It's okay. I understand."

He smiled back. "I know you do."

So after the battle, I remembered Fred's words.

"Hey, Angelina…wanna go on a date?"

It took me a few tries, but I got her in the end. It was inevitable; to her, I was just as much Fred as Fred was.

And now I've stridden down the aisle with a girl I'll never love…

The pries smiles at me. Lost in thought, I've missed his speech—all but the last, most important bit.

"George Fabion Weasley, do you take this woman to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, until death do you part?"

Remembering Fred—my brother, my other half, gone forever—I give my answer:

"I do."

Ill try to post about 3 oneshots a day. There very easy to write. You guys should try.