My dearest little brother George,
(You're still seven minutes younger, no matter if we're twins or not!)
People always assumed we were identical in every way. I guess the subtle differences were only noticeable to people who paid close enough attention, like our families and ourselves. It wasn't fair how people lumped us into one entity. Don't get me wrong, I loved being a twin, but they never saw our individual qualities for what they were worth.
You always laughed harder, smiled brighter. Your jokes were funnier and you had the more creative streak. Most of the products in our store were thought up by you, only charmed by me. I don't know if I can keep it up without you.
As much as we joked about it, I really think you were more handsome than me. Your features were smoother and well defined, whereas I'm more pointy and angular. And yet, people still could never tell us apart. You were a little taller than me too. It's hard to believe I'm technically the older one, by about seven minutes.
It's been nearly a year; a year of walking around feeling half-dead and incomplete. I wake up every morning and expect to look over and see you grinning while I grumble. You were the morning person out of the two of us.
Mum cries a lot. We all do, but never has Mum cried so hard as when I started wearing your jumpers. They see the 'F' sewn into the yarn and for a second, their hearts skip thinking you've come back, but it's just me. I wore my 'Gred' jumper to your funeral. Ginny nearly destroyed it with her tears, but I forgave her. We buried you in your 'Forge' jumper. Mum made a new one to replace it so I could have it. It's not the same, though.
I can't count the number of times people have slipped up and said 'Fred and George' on accident instead of just 'George'. Every time it happens, I feel my heart break a little more. I'm so used to hearing your name first; I almost considered legally changing my name to FredandGeorge, just so I would never miss it. Mum didn't think it was very funny when I suggested it. Then again, Mum has never fully appreciated our brand of wit, has she?
I try to stay in our room, make myself scarce. I know seeing me is just a painful reminder to the rest of the family of the other half that's missing. I know they can't help it, and even though it hurts, I try to make things easier for everyone else.
They know I'm not taking this well, they know I'm falling apart, but I don't think they really understand. Who could, unless they've lost a twin? Every day I look in the mirror and see your face staring back at me, twisted in agony and glistening with tears. Every time I utter a word, I hear your voice, broken and hoarse. Every time I'm reminded of you I have to wonder why, if they couldn't take me instead, why the hell didn't they just take me too?
You see, I think I discovered the big mystery of twins, the thing those crazy Muggle Death Eaters the Nazi's were looking for during the Holocaust. All they had to do was ask a person who'd lost their twin; I'm sure they all know, whoever the poor souls are. The secret is that twins were never meant to be apart. When we separated in the womb, it was with the intention of always having the other half to complete ourselves.
My other half is gone, and it literally feels that way. Half of me died with you, and as much as I'm trying to stay strong for Mum and Dad and everyone, I don't know how much longer I can really hold on. I miss you, and I hate myself for being here when you're not.
This is depressing. I'm sorry. There's been a severe lack of laughter and joking in the Burrow this past year. I try to crack one every now and then, and even Ron pitches in. Believe it or not, but Ron has been a Godsend. He always seems to be there to help lift my spirits or hold me up when I can't take it anymore. Without him, the shop would have gone down the drain by now. I owe him a lot. There were some days I couldn't be arsed to get out of bed and open the shop. I've been staying with Mum and Dad instead of in our flat. It's too painful to see your empty bed, your clothes, and your toothbrush. I can't handle it, not yet.
Ron always made sure to check on me and asked me if I was up for working, and if not, he'd open and run the store. I was worried at first that he'd blow the place up, what with the products we sell and all, but sales have actually gone up! He's even started helping me develop new stuff for the upcoming summer season. There's not been any new products since – well, since I lost you.
Bill, Charlie and Percy stayed for a while last summer. It was a pretty quiet and sad time, but Charlie decided to try to kick things up and start a Quidditch match in the back garden. We were all excited, grabbing our brooms and heading out, but as we were assigning positions, we realized we only had a six member Quidditch team. It threw us all off, and even though Dad played as second Beater, it wasn't the same. I think it just made us all that much sadder.
Ginny just came in and asked if I wanted chocolate or vanilla frosting on my birthday cake. I'm still not used to having things that are mine and not ours. You'd think it'd be a relief to have some individuality, but it's not. I still want to share everything with you. I think I'll go tell Mum to make sure she still puts your name on the cake. It wouldn't feel right without it.
Well, I made Mum cry again, but she agreed. And I made sure the cake was chocolate with vanilla frosting – your favourite. I think I'll share a piece with your headstone tomorrow. The gnomes will eat it if you don't. Speaking of our birthday…
Well, brother mine, in honour of our twenty-first birthday, I'm setting up something special. Every year on our birthday, instead of mourning you in a depression, I'm going to visit the Children's Ward at St. Mungo's to entertain the sick kids to distract them from their illnesses for a bit. I've already set things in order, and an unveiling of the Fred Weasley Children's Ward is set for tomorrow, on our birthday. Harry, bless his soul, has already invested a huge amount of Galleons to the fund.
The world will never be the same without you; I'll never be the same. I know you wouldn't want me to wallow in sadness forever, though, so I'm going to try as hard as I can to get back to my usual self. I expect that after the shock of the one year anniversary, I'll be able to begin the healing process.
I love you, Fred, and I miss you something terrible. The Wizarding World as a whole lost an amazing person, but our family has been hit hard. We're coping and staying as strong as we can.
You better have the most incredible prank set up for when I get up there! You've got time and the Marauders there to help you out. I won't take any excuses if your skills are rusty by the time I go to meet you!
Rest in peace, my brother, and Happy twenty-first Birthday!
Your other (better) half,
P.S. Oi, if you see my ear up there, tell it I miss it too! You should try speaking into it. You never know; maybe it will work like a heavenly Extendable Ear! That'd be right wicked, it would