Accio Contests! Lisa Galek's Harry Potter Fanfic Contest!

Lisa Galek at Read. Write. Repeat is having a 'Happy Birthday, Harry!' fanfiction contest in honor of Harry's birthday, which is TODAY! :) The rules are simple. Up to 750 words, use HP characters, and have something to do with birthdays. So, since Lisa's awesome and allows for a wee bit of wiggle room, I stretched the rules as far as I could.

Please enjoy. This was one of those mysterious 'labors of love,' but my brain required me to write it. You know how that goes.

Title: Ghost of a Smile

Summary: George finds Fred during the Battle of Hogwarts.



Something was wrong.

A tug in his chest made George turn toward the castle. Jets of green light blew past him, and he dropped to the ground. Percy was running after a hooded figure, cloak forgotten, eyes blazing. George had never seen his brother so possessed.

Something was wrong.

There it was again. A pulling, now in his gut, screaming for him to go inside.

He jumped to his feet and cast a spell to clear his path. Was it Ginny? Dad? He slipped in mud, maybe blood, as he reached the steps. A blast of pain in his arm brought him to his knees, but he ignored it. He had to.

Something was wrong.

There was fighting everywhere inside Hogwarts. Friends and enemies were running, cursing, bleeding. He passed Ginny, fire and smiles as she stood toe-to-toe with a hulking Death Eater. Red hair flashed to his left, someone tall, but he couldn't see the face. Had to be Fred. But where was Mum? What about Ron?

Something was wrong.

The wall had collapsed in this part of the castle. There were bloody footprints, but the corridor was empty. He held his wand in front of him, glancing all around as his hands began to shake, expecting a Death Eater to jump from behind the rubble, but he couldn't hear anything except his heart slamming against his ribs. His stomach was tied in the tightest knots as he rounded the corner with a curse on his lips.

Everything was wrong.

His wand fell and rolled along the stone floor until it hit the wall. He put a hand out to steady himself, but his knees crumpled as the tears began. There in an alcove, lifeless and alone, was his brother. His twin. His very best friend, and the world stopped.

The slash above Fred’s eye sank into his vibrant hair. George held out a hand to touch the spot but could not, as his stomach tore him away. He fell to the floor, retching far from his sleeping twin. In the back of his mind, he knew Fred would laugh at this moment, remind him of those eggs they'd eaten for breakfast. He swiped his sleeve across his mouth and rolled away from the mess. Fred had always sat with him when they were testing the Puking Pastilles. Taking notes, asking questions, cracking jokes so crude George would throw up in earnest even after the capsule wore off.

He leaned against the wall to catch his breath, grinning at the memory until the sadness returned. It cut deeper as he remembered the pranks, the teasing, the family dinners, the punishments (oh, so many punishments), the extravagant, twin birthdays, the shop, the customers. All of it running together into one bright vortex of love and misery as he again reached out a hand.

George touched Fred's closed eyes, then his cheeks, his mouth, knowing he was patting a mirror image except for the blood and the beating heart. A smile was frozen on his brother’s lips, like he’d never seen this coming. Maybe he was turned away, telling a joke. Or perhaps he was taunting. George smiled. Fred excelled at taunting.

"Freddy..." The tears came again, powerful and unrelenting. He grabbed the ripped fabric of Fred's robe and pulled him to his chest, rocking forward and back to soothe his brother. But it was George who needed soothed. His twin was dead, taking half of George’s heart with him, and he cried into the bloodied mess of Fred's chest, uncaring of the crimson on his face and in his hair. There would never be another fireworks display in the Great Hall, no more grand escapes on borrowed brooms, no more pretending to be the other to fool Mum, no more finishing each other's sentence, no more knowing smiles, no more talking until midnight, no more crying on each other's shoulder, no more Fred and George.

No more Fred.

Then warm arms wrapped around him, and for a second, less than that really, George thought maybe...

But it was Percy, arms desperately clutching his brother's back as he tucked Fred's hair into place, hoarsely whispering 'imsorryimsorryimsorry,’ and George cried harder. Because he was alive and Percy was alive, and he’d seen Ginny, and Hermione would protect Ron, and Mum and Dad didn't know.

He couldn't breathe. The world was spinning, and Percy was screaming 'IMSORRYIMSORRYIMSORRY,' and Fred would be so angry, because he loved living. He loved it more than Chocolate Frogs and Quidditch and pulling pranks, but he was gone now.

He was gone.

For the first and only time, George Weasley thought it might not be so bad if Harry lost the fight. Nothing would be wrong anymore. He could be with Fred. The twins could be twins again. Maybe prank on Dumbledore and Mad-Eye. Yeah, definitely Mad-Eye.

In that crumbling corridor, miles from the sounds of war, he held his dead twin and let a ghost of a smile touch his lips.

Sad, I know, but thanks for reading. I mentioned birthdays. lol. That counts, right? Right?!

Please pop around to the other fanfics and leave a note. It's always tough to share your work, even if it is a for-fun exercise in complete and utter dedication to one of the best stories the world has ever known.

Thank you again for reading!

-Marie