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He held his brother's hand

It was no secret to anyone in the Weasley family that whenever times got tough, the mischievous twins would hold each other's hand, as a sort of reassurance that the other one of them was still there.

Of course, George was almost always the one who grabbed Fred's hand first, George had always been the more sensitive of the two, that was no secret.

It had started when Mrs. Weasley had to go to the hospital at least two weeks earlier than expected when Ginny was supposed to be born. Although they were a little too young to understand what the doctor was telling their father, they still knew something was wrong with the birthing process.

George looked to his other brothers littered about the waiting room, Bill was sitting with Percy, attempting to get him interested in a book that was called 'The boy who cried wolf', but whenever the wolf actually came out, Percy would cry about how ridiculous the entire story was and how he wanted to read 'The legend of Sleepy Hollow' instead. Charlie was sitting on the floor with Ron, who was coloring pictures of dragons that he had drawn a few hours earlier, and whenever the youngest Weasley was done coloring, he would hold up the picture and shout, "Wook, Chawie! Dwagons!" with the biggest, toothless smile on his freckled face that it would make the second eldest smile along with him.

George could tell that his eldest brothers were fearful for their mother, after all, they had been with her the longest out of all the boys in the room, and for them, they were doing an amazing job of not freaking out right then and there.

"George." he turned to his left where Fred was sitting with a new toy in his lap and a concerned expression on his four year old face, "What's wrong?" he asked.

George was tempted to shake his head at his twin, to lie and tell him that he wasn't as worried about mum as Bill and Charlie were, but he couldn't bring himself to lie right to Fred's face. Looking at Fred in his brown eyes, he whispered, to make sure their brothers couldn't hear them from over the room, "What if the baby doesn't make it? Fred, what if it dies and mum won't be the same again? What if-?" he cut himself off sharply because he couldn't bring himself to say that their entire family might not be the same.

Fred blinked, this was a lot for a little boy of the age of four to be worrying about, it seemed more like something that Charlie would be fretting over, he was the most sensitive out of all of them; yet, here was his twin, acting as if he were the eldest.

Fred shook his head at George, "Mum's gonna be okay, Georgie. I'm sure any minute now, Dad'll come through that door and tell us that we have a new baby brother in the family." he said as reassurance.

George nodded, but he didn't look convinced. He turned back around in his chair and stared straight ahead of him, something that was so uncharacteristic of himself that Fred actually feared for his brother's well being.

Quietly, George held out his left hand, palm up, in a quiet indication that he wanted to hold his brother's hand.

Fred was usually against showing too much displays of emotion, he wanted to be like Bill, who almost always hid his emotions behind a locked vault, especially when he wanted to be strong for his family. So, when George held out his hand to hold, Fred had to hesitate; then he finally took it, clasping his fingers with George's and tightening his hold in a vain attempt to calm his brother's nerves.

Of course, that entire ordeal ended just fine when their father came out at least an hour later with a little pink wrapped bundle in his arms that he introduced as their new baby sister, Ginevra.

After that situation, whenever times got rough, George would hold his twin's hand not only for his own comfort, but for Fred's as well.

He held his hand when Ginny was in the Chamber of Secrets, when Cedric died, as well as when their father had been attacked by that snake and earned himself a trip to St. Mungo's.

And then his brother died.

Who's hand was George gonna hold onto now? At his brother's funeral? He looked over at all of his family members. Bill was comforting a sobbing Fleur, while tears of his own loss trekked down his scarred up cheeks. Charlie was standing in a far off corner, watching as they placed Fred's coffin in the ground, there was no expression on his face, but George could tell he was in pain. He couldn't see Percy anywhere, but he knew he was there because he could hear the sniffling sounds that could only be called his own. He saw Ron standing in front of their parents, Hermione hanging on one of his arms with tears going down her cheeks, while Ginny was trying to hide her face in his other shoulder. Ron looked up at him for a fleeting moment, long enough for the older boy to see that he was attempting to hide his tears, he absolutely refused to show that he was crying, no, that was something that he could save for when he got home and he was surrounded by his family while his girlfriend was at her own home. He saw Harry standing not far off behind him, shadows were hiding his eyes, but the occasional tear coming through the edge of his glasses told him that the Boy Who Lived was crying without sound.

George didn't need to look at his mother and father to tell him that they were both crying their eyes out over Fred's death. He couldn't bear to look at them at the moment, mainly because their tears would prompt him to shed his, but really, he just wanted to look back at his twin's coffin for now.

When they got home, all George wanted to do was go back up to his and Fre-, his, room and cry himself into a sleep of some sort. In fact, he had just started walking up the stairs to do that until his father calling his name got him to turn around and walk back.

"George." he started, his right fist was clutching something so hard it was making his knuckles turn white, "Look at what I found." he opened the fist slowly and extended it to his son. George jolted slightly where he stood.

In his father's hand was Fred's clock face hand.

He slowly reached out and took it from Mr. Weasley, before he looked up at the magic clock and saw to his horror, Fred's hand had disappeared from all the hands on the clock.

George looked at his father with a questioning look, "Did you take it off?" he asked quietly, it was very late in the night and the rest of the family were sleeping in either the kitchen or they had actually bothered to walk up the stairs to get to their rooms.

His father shook his head sadly, "Your mother rigged this clock to dismantle any and all hands on it if the person had died." he answered slowly, "I thought you'd like to have Fred's hand." he finished this as he started walking past the boy. Before he left him, he placed one hand on George's shoulder and squeezed it in a small sign of comfort, before he left him standing there with the clock face hand clutched tightly in his own.

After his father had given him Fred's hand, he had wasted no time in searching through his mother's jewelry to find a simple golden chain, punched a hole in the hand, and placed it on the chain. He wore that necklace every day, no matter where he was. Even if he was in the shower, he was wearing it, not caring about whether it got wet; he had gotten Hermione to put that neat spell on it to repel water, you know, the one she put on Harry's glasses during a rainy Quidditch game? Anyways, if something was going on that he didn't like, or the times got tough;

He would hold his brother's hand.

Not just any brother's hand, however.

Fred's hand.

Please tell me if this oneshot made any sense whatsoever, I haven't been feeling 100% for the past few days, and I've been re-reading the Harry Potter books because whenever I start typing my energy goes away and I have to stop. So, while I cough my lungs out, I start typing this brief oneshot about the Weasley twins and I'm not sure if it's very good. So, please tell me if you liked it in a review. I only ask that you don't flame me.

I'm sorry I haven't updated any of my other stories, I'll get right on that now!