Hey Fred, It's George Again

Hey again, Fred,


Things have been pretty crazy around here lately. Everyone's going back to work and stuff. Well, apart from Hermione and Ginny. They're heading back to Hogwarts. I don't know how they can do it, after everything that happened there. I know I couldn't.


So, I'm supposed to be reopening the shop. But I don't know if I can. Because... I know if I go in there, I'll see something you thought up, or an item that brings back memories of conversations with you, and it doesn't matter whether the conversation was one that made us laugh 'til we cried, or one about stock and margins, because it'll feel like my heart is being pulled through my stomach either way.


Dad says I have to go back though. He said by running the store I can keep you alive through your work there. Like a legacy. Pretty crappy way of keeping you alive, eh, Freddo? So I guess I'll have to go back. But I'm doing this for you, yeah? Anything I do now I'm doing for you, like forcing a smile at Mum when I come down to breakfast each morning, to let her know I'm okay. Even if I'm the furthest from okay.


I asked Ron to help me with the store. I am not replacing you. I can't replace you. But neither can I run that place by myself. So I asked him. It's not full time, it's just in-between his auror training. Ickle Ronnikins is becoming an auror. It's pretty cool.


He should be able to come up with some good products for the shop. Nothing as good as you could, though. I've still got that list of potential products we wrote out before the war started. Maybe I'll get Ron to help make them. He'd make a good test dummy for them. I've always wanted to see what he looks like without eyebrows.


I miss you. You know I do. Those three words really don't cover it, do they? "I miss you". What a load of bollocks. I'm not me anymore. You're gone and now I'm half of a whole, but it feels like less than that. I'll be sitting at dinner and someone will make a remark we would make a joke out of, and I glance across the table to where you'd be sat, almost smirking at the quip forming in my head, only to be smacked in the face by the reminder that you're not there. I'll have an idea in the middle of the night, so I'll voice it to you, but I'm only answered by silence, instead of a quiet chuckle or a reassuring word.


There, that's closer to the truth. Words will never be able to say how it really feels though.


Also, by taking you, I think Death's bitten off a bit more than he can chew. Show him what you got, Forge. For me?


George


Read the first letter from George here.
Read the letter from Ron here.
Read the letter from Ginny here.
Read the letter from Percy here.


Please contact me in some way if you wish to use this letter for other uses, and please attribute it to me, otherwise it could be considered plagiarism of my work and that will not be tolerated. Thanks, guys.

Dear Fred, From George

Dear Fred,


Today has been the hardest day since you passed away. It was your funeral. And I know you've been sat up there for the past few days yelling at me for being such an idiot, to man up and be braver. During all the planning sessions mum had for the service, I couldn't stay in the room, the table littered with fliers for flowers, headstones and coffins. I didn't have the strength to stay there and tell everyone that you didn't want rows of mourners, the overwhelming death-scent of lilies filling some stifling marquee or some stuffy old man talking about you as if he knew you. How dare some guy ever pretend that. I knew you. And through you I understood myself. But I couldn't speak up and say this. The only thing I was able to do was punch Harry for blaming himself for your death. Specky git. I told him you wouldn't want him stealing your thunder.


But the service went ahead, with lilies, and rows of mourners. Ron was able to say no to the guy who spoke at Bill and Fleur's wedding doing the funeral, though. Why couldn't I do that? Kingsley spoke instead. And bloody Ron stopped Kingsley in the service and he and Lee brought out loads of fireworks, and did the service how you would've wanted. He even inscribed "Mischief managed" on your headstone. I couldn't do this. I couldn't do anything. I just stood there and watched him take charge, like I should've done.


See? I need you here. I need you with me, Freddy. It's like you've died and taken every drop of Gryffindor bravery from me. I might as well be a Hufflepuff now. No, even that's too good. If I were a Hufflepuff at least my bloody loyalty would make me say something.


I don't know what I am, or who I am without you. And I know you're yelling at me to stop moping and start living both our lives in your place. But I can't, Fred! How am I supposed to function when there's only half of me left?


Help me,
George


Read the second letter from George here.
Read the letter from Ron here.
Read the letter from Ginny here.
Read the letter from Percy here.


Please contact me in some way if you wish to use this letter for other uses, and please attribute it to me, otherwise it could be considered plagiarism of my work and that will not be tolerated. Thanks, guys.