It had been a long day for Molly. It had been almost a year since the battle and the magical world was recovering swiftly from the damage caused by the Dark Lord since his final passing. Mourning and grief had subsided and most were able to move on with their lives and remember with fondness the ones they lost. Today, for Molly Weasley, was one of the better days she had experienced.

Sighing, she apperates back home to the Burrow. Then she walks in the front door only to find her house a complete mess. All the mirrors in the house had been smashed and anything with a reflection thrown in a pile outside the kitchen window, either broken or scuffed from its mistreatment. 

Furious, she storms upstairs in hopes to find the culprit, but stops dead in her tracks when she hears the sound of weak muffled sobbing coming from one of the rooms. Quickly, she makes her way over to the door and presses her ear against it.

"George? George, honey, is that you?" She calls cautiously, not knowing anyone but him and Arthur to be home at this time. But her husband was still at the Ministry. When she received no answer she carefully opens the door, barely repressing a cry of shock when she sees George, pounding his bloodied fists against, undoubtedly, the last mirror in the house.

It was the mirror she and Arthur had been given as a wedding present from his parents. She had been told it was enchanted and was a magical family heirloom that had been pasted down since before the first Weasley, with no one actually knowing the original origins of the old mirror, only that it had magical properties that no one could identify no matter how many tests they did on it. The only thing they knew it was capable of was stopping its glass from being broken and that any spells cast on it would either be absorbed with no ill effect or reflect off of it and back towards the caster.

Her son was crying, leaning his head against the old mirror and looked like he had been for a while, his face pale and reddened, with his movements slow and uncaring while blood continued to drip from his hands and down his arms.

Molly chokes on a sob and drops to her knees beside her son, pulling him tightly into her arms. George makes no move to protest and lets his hand slide down the glass of the mirror as he's forced away by his mother, leaving blood streaks against the once pristine glass. His tired sobs only grew louder in her embrace as he let out a strangled whimper and she finds the cloth against her shoulder growing increasingly wet at an alarming rate. She found herself uncaring for anything but George at this moment even as his blood covered hands gripped her shawl in an attempt to find further comfort.

She holds him close for a long time, gently rocking him back and forth and stroking his hair, whispering words of comfort to him as he muttered fouls to the world and how unfair it was. All the while she tried not to openly cry herself, needing to stay strong for her son. But still, silent tears breaking free from her control and trailing down her cheeks and landing lightly in his typically unkempt red Weasley hair.

In the end, Molly couldn't bring herself to be mad or even annoyed with her son. Yes, he had destroyed things that were either expensive or irreplaceable, and he had hurt himself in the process. But she knew and understood why. In all honesty, she knew this would happen eventually, it was just a matter of time. Fred's passing had hit him the hardest. It wasn't just Fred they lost that day, they had lost George as well. Everything that made George George was ripped away from him the moment Fred died. Two halves of a whole they were, and now George felt empty and alone.

Unbeknownst to the two Weasley's sat on the floor, there was a third in the room silently watching the scene with a heavy heart. He would give anything to see George smile again. A true, genuine smile that could only be achieved by the two of them.

"Oh Georgie..." He whispered sadly, taking a few tentative steps towards his mother and twin.

"It's alright, George. You don't need to be sad, I'm still here. I never left. I would never leave you alone, remember?" Fred told him, fully knowing that his brother hadn't heard. With a sigh, he gently rested his hand against his twins shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

George shivered as the room suddenly dropped in temperature and a strange sensation ghosted over his shoulder making him look up. He looked around but saw nothing and was already shifting away from his mother arms when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something in the mirror.

He turned his head and looked into the mirror properly, his eyes widening at what he saw standing beside him. He quickly turned his head to look, but saw nothing so he looked back and blinked a few times just to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

"Fred...?" He said disbelievingly with a choked sob, when it didn't go away. The figure that looked like his brother's eyes widened and looked down at him, then back at the mirror, pulling his hand away in shock. George felt himself instantly become warmer, the chill that was there before suddenly vanishing.

He heard a gasp next to him and saw his mother holding a hand over her mouth as fresh tears welled up in her eyes, her free hand drifting towards the mirror.

Fred smiled widely at them, giving a small, but enthusiastic wave and mouthing what looked like a 'Hey, did you miss me?'

George could do nothing but stare, conflicting emotions running through his body like a hurricane, although next to him Molly was nodding furiously as she stroked the mirror where Fred's cheek was.

He watched the mirror as Fred walked away from his side and knelt by their mother, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind. Molly visibly stiffened as she felt the temperature drop and the ghost of a body holding her close. Fresh tears sprang from Mrs Weasley's eyes as she attempted to touch one of her son's arms, but only receiving a slightly strange sensation in return.

"...Freddie? Is- is that really you?" George asked hesitantly, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening. His twin nodded, and still smiling he reached a hand out towards George, pausing just before touching him and glancing at the mirror as if asking permission. George nodded shakily, watching his shoulder instead of the mirror. As soon as he felt something ghost against his shoulder, and he felt cold, he knew it was Fred. It felt right, even if he were a ghost. It felt like Fred.

George choked, tearing leaking from his eyes, but smiled none the less. And it wasn't a hollow, fake or forced polite smile that his family had become accustomed to. No. This, this was a George smile. A smile that George could only manage in the presence of Fred, who would always be holding that exact same smile as well.

Tentatively, George reached out and pressed his hand against the mirror, just to the side of his own reflection. Fred stood and crouched beside his brother, reaching out his own hand and pressing it against the glass himself. Well, that's what he had intended to do anyway.

A strange and unknown power gripped Fred's fingers and yanked him forward, causing him to let out a surprised yelp, face contorting in fear and shock. He tried to pull himself back in panic, accidentally touching the mirror with his other hand as he did. 

With both hands being pulled forward, Fred barely had time to see that his mother and George had stood and were looking at him with a mixture of shock and concern, not understanding what was happening. He gave them the best smile he could manage, hoping to reassure them that he was fine.

Then, with one final tug, he lost the battle and was pulled through the mirror, vanishing from the sight of the two in the room.

"Fred! Freddie?! What- what happened?! Fred!" George cried, searching frantically around the room for any sign of his brother. He ran up the mirror and leant his hands against it, staring desperately at the mirror waiting for his twin to return. 

Minutes passed and nothing happened. Molly, thoroughly shocked by what had happened, carefully approached her son and gently pulled him away from the mirror. Once again, George didn't resist, letting himself be led backwards but keeping his eyes firmly fixed on the mirror.

For days, George sat in front of that mirror. He barely ate, barely slept, even worse than before. He refused to accept that his brother was gone for the second time, not without at least getting to give him a proper goodbye.

As the days turned into weeks, George felt even emptier inside than he ever had, excluding the moment Fred actually died in the first place. He let his mother drag him outside every now and again, just so he wouldn't die on them. She would make him eat something small but nutritional, occasionally slipping a sleeping draught into his meals or drinks when he hadn't been sleeping properly. She would carry him up to bed with the help of her wand, but even so, every time she woke up, she would always find George back in front of that mirror.

Another month passed, putting three months between them and Fred's appearance, and almost a year and a half since his passing. There had been a mutual yet unspoken agreement between the two of them that they wouldn't mention it to the rest of the family if they happened to ask, not wanting to pull everyone back into sorrow. So, for now, the Weasley family continued on with their lives, accepting George's behavior and never questioning it. They had all made their own conclusions about the reasons why, it wasn't hard to guess.

And so, that's how life continued for the remaining Weasley's. The reflection of the mirror stayed silent under the watchful gaze of the red head. Until one day, it didn't.

                                                                                                 -~-~-

Bright light exploded before his eyes. Colours dancing across his vision and blackness fading in and out as he let out a silent scream. He couldn't see a thing. There was no sound, even his own voice couldn't be heard in the complete and utter silence. It would have been maddening, if not for the searing pain that flooded into Fred's mind, his being, his soul.

He could feel something changing. His soul felt strained and tense, like something was trying to rip it away from him or something of the like. His body, or imprint of what had been his body, felt like it was on fire. His limbs felt heavier and heavier the longer he was here. Wherever 'here' was, Fred didn't know.

As a spirit, he had had no real concept of time while not in the realm of the living, so he wasn't exactly sure how long it had been, but it sure felt like a very long time.

As the pain continued, dulled but not numb, by sheer force of will to block it out so he could think, he found his thoughts instantly on George. How was he doing? Not well, considering the state he'd been in... then suddenly Fred was there, in the mirror, communicating with two member of his family only to be suddenly ripped away and sent to this place.

His eyes widened at a thought, well he imagined them doing so anyway. George had been driven to breaking point after he died, then he appeared and then vanished. Nobody in his situation would've been able to take that in stride. No, George... George would still be waiting for him to return, to say goodbye. He needed closure. He needed to know that Fred was okay, that he was happy in the afterlife.

Fresh and uncontrolled anger surged through Fred. Whatever this power was, had ripped him away from his family. Torn him away from his brother, his twin. His other half.

In his single minded anger and love fueled rage, Fred almost didn't notice how the pain lessened, the way his soul relaxed against the force of the unknown power. This surprised him, but didn't lessen his determination to find a way to get back to his brother. He needed to make sure he was safe.

The brute force that had been attacking Fred for who knows how long suddenly came to an abrupt halt, momentarily throwing him off guard. For a moment, Fred thought he was free, that he had beaten it. He could think clearly and completely. He smiled, even as the bright white faded into a darkness so dark it couldn't even be called blackness.

He stayed in that terrible darkness for what felt like a long time. But he stayed strong, trying every way he knew to get himself back to at least Limbo, where he could get back to the living world. But no matter how hard he tried, he stayed in what he now called the void. Every time he failed, he almost gave up hope of ever getting back to his brother, but then instantly, the thought of his brother alone would give him enough courage to keep trying.

Fred's soul was exhausted, and he found his efforts getting weaker and weaker, but he kept persevering. It had been so long since he had first been pulled through the mirror, and his soul was spent. He could barely think back to some of his memories and he felt himself fading. But he kept trying. He focused on keeping his memories with him, focusing on the happiest times of his life: when he was with George.

George was the final thing he managed to keep a hold of. He couldn't remember anything about him except the happiness and love, his happiness. His mind was empty except for that one name.

George.

George, Fred- that was him. He was Fred and Fred was him... and George. Fred and George, George and Fred. Two halves of a whole, you couldn't have one without the other. Fred and George and love and fun and happiness- emotions, so many unexplainable emotions ran through his empty soul. There was no face to the names, to the feelings, no memory or explanation, just love. Pure and true. Fred didn't care about anything else in that moment.

He felt himself growing thinner. His soul was dying. Funny how Death worked. You live, you die, you exist, and then you just... don't. Everything is taken away from you, given back to the living while you just fade away peacefully, none the wiser to what had happened.

Fred smiled to himself, an action he couldn't explain but the action caused his soul's final power to surge with emotion, broadcasting its final moment of existence to the universe before finally drifting away.

                                                                                                 ~-~-~

Fred and George... George and Fred, together against the world. One mind, two bodies. Two bodies with a shared soul. Twins. In all sense of the word and beyond, they were twins. So alike in every aspect. So alike it was easy to mistake them for being a single person that just happened to occupy two bodies. The thing is, that's exactly what it felt like to the two of them. George and Fred, Fred and George, most brilliant duo known in generations, and even generations to come.

Though all this was true, Fred and George, George and Fred... they were still separate people with their own individual thoughts and feelings. They shared a stronger connection together than anyone in millennia, an old magic long forgotten binding them together. Soul bound, forever. Their souls are connected and revolving around each other for eternity. They can't die, not truly.

Fred... he's a strong one, stronger than any other soul put through these tests. They both are strong, but their time apart can make them just as strong as they are when together, it seems.

Everything was thrown against him and yet, he still succeeded, he never once gave up. That just proves how strong that connection is. I can see it still. His soul faded far before its time and yet, it's still here, clinging to its other half. I can hear it crying out, asking, and begging to know if its brother is safe.

Now, I know what is thought of me. I know people think I enjoy suffering and misery, and death, but in all honesty, it's not that simple. I do what needs to be done. I take lives as much as I save them. Every soul has its time in both realities. But there are times, rare, impossible times when the requirement for the world to spin on changes...

In short, the universe is big, so unfathomably big. It's vast and complicated and ridiculous. And sometimes, very rarely, impossible things happen, and those things, well, it doesn't matter what they're really called, they call them miracles.

                                                                                                   ~-~-~

There was a bright white light and George felt himself fall backwards away from the mirror, squinting his eyes shut tight in an attempt to block out the blinding intrusion. George felt a strange tugging against him, and for life of him couldn't figure out what it was. It wasn't physical, but it was there and it was growing stronger.

He felt something being drawn out of him, something that was his was being coaxed away without his consent and George almost panicked. But that was when he felt it.

He started to feel whole again.

The gaping hole that had been left by Fred's death, and widened by his sudden appearance and departure was stitching itself shut and he was partially aware of the fact he should probably be confused as to why.

He felt rather than saw that the bright light had died down and he cautiously opened his eyes, his gaze instantly falling onto the mirror. He stood up abruptly and staggered against the wall as a dizzy spell washed over him and his vision fuzzed with static.

There, in the mirror was Fred, but something was wrong. His body was slumped against the edges of the frame, un-moving. George approached the glass cautiously. That was when he noticed that his brother's image was fading, a single orb of soft light revealing itself as its shell began to vanish.

George was scared and confused, he didn't understand what he was seeing. Was Fred hurt? Was that his soul? He'd seen Dementors pull souls from people with their kiss in the battle, but this was different, the soul stayed put but its body was fading.

"Fred?" George called, taking a quick glance around knowing there was no point, but he did so anyway. "Freddie, its George. Can you hear me? Fred?"

But his brother didn't move, his body was almost completely gone now and George felt a tear trail down his cheek. He pressed his hand against the glass.

"It's alright Freddie, I'm here. I don't know what's happening to you, but I'm here." He told him quietly, continuing to watch as his brother faded away.

A few moments later, his brothers image was completely gone and all that was left was the small orb of light, flickering duller with each moment. George pressed his forehead against the glass and shut his eyes against the tears.

"It's alright Freddie, I'm here. George is right here and I always will be." He whispered, opening his eyes and sitting back on the floor.

His brother's soul flickered and died, leaving George alone once again. Then, quite suddenly, the soul burst back into existence with a bright flash of energy and long tendrils threw themselves through the mirror sharply, making the glass crack around them. George barely had time to let out a shout of surprise as the tendrils attacked him and pierced themselves through his body, wrapping around him multiple time, as if searching for something. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, and he found himself thinking of Fred and only Fred. Everything that was and is his twin filled his mind.

The tendrils stopped moving all at once, then turned in one direction and raced for it. He felt something pressing against him, against his being. He felt as it merged with him, and he felt like his brother was next to him, like it always used to be.

There was a loud, ear splitting crack and George looked up at the mirror. The light had filled it entirely and cracks were forming and growing as something tried to force its way through. It was loud and it was bright. Small chunks of the glass smashed to the ground and shattered to dust.

The sound must have alerted the other occupants of the household, because the next thing George knew, his mother and father were at the opened door. Arthur was holding Molly back as she screamed, trying to get to her son who was still connected to the mirror by the soul's binding tendrils.

The mirror gave a mighty moan and another ear splitting crack, louder than before. All at once, the glass fell and disintegrated before it even hit the floor, the light flashed bright and a loud thump was heard and the room was silent. The tendrils retreated from George and back to where they belonged.

All of their gazes fell to the prone body lying messily on the floor, arms and legs sprawled out around him, clothes torn and scuffed. But most importantly of all, there was a noticeable steady rise and fall of its chest.

Georges eyes widened and he rushed over to the figure and lifting him up to lean against his chest, while his head lolled limply against Georges shoulder. Suddenly, he stirred and his eyes fluttered open tiredly, but somehow still managing a wide, Weasley twin grin at the indescribable expression of disbelief and happiness on Georges face. When he spoke a few moments later, his  voice was barely a whisper, laced with exhaustion and relief.

"Heya, Georgie... Did ya' miss me?"

A/N: I... I don't think you understand the emotions I went through writing this. I swear, I was gonna leave it just after when Fred vanished.... but... but I cried too many times writing this, before and after I intended to finish this and so I continued writing and I couldn't leave it so sad... then... well, THIS happened. 

I think I just made my own thing. Kind of like the Deathly Hallows, Death has a mirror that can only be used once and the spirit must pass certain tests and requirements for it to bring them back. 

I just... I really hope someone likes this. I put so much effort into it. It's almost 4000 words long. Leave a comment of what you thought, and be honest! If I cried writing this, me, the heartless birtch tree, cried, then I know someone else did at some point!

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!

~Dew