George's Pain.

Someone was there, waiting. That someone couldn't be found with the naked eye. He waited. He waited. He waited, impatiently. At last, what that person was waiting and hoping for, most, appeared in front of him. The Room of Requirement.

He slipped through the large door, unseen. Closing it behind him, he searched around the room, hoping to find what he needed. Revealing a head full of flame - red hair and a ghostly white face, the Invisibility Cloak slid off him. His complexion was paler than normal. Dry tears marking him. It seemed as though the boy - perhaps around the age of nineteen - never stopped weeping. He finally took the cloak off and held it with a loose grasp in his shaking fist. His tall frame shivering. Pain... grief... fear... coldness... One could only hope that the boy was shivering from lack of body heat, and nothing else.

Looking around, he could not find what he needed. He needed the mirror - not just any old mirror. He needed the cruelest mirror he ever knew. And because he needed a mirror, the whole of the room was booming with them. Small mirrors, tall mirrors, fat silver mirrors, golden hand mirrors... He did not see it. He could not find it. The boy pulled at his red hair in desperation, leaving a few strands of it in his fist. The other fist remained loosely closed around the Invisibility Cloak. "Argh... come on! Where are you?" The boy called, frustratedly. It seemed that after voicing out his frustration, he found what he had been looking for. The mirror. The cruelest mirror he ever knew and laid eyes on. The Mirror of Erised.

The Mirror of Erised was stored in the Room of Requirement before it was moved, yet again, to another home. The mirror had been moved around many different schools of magical learning, but always ended back with Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He ran towards the mirror, feeling a part of the ornate gold frame, anxiously. The mirror was magnificent, as high as the ceiling. And believe you me, the ceiling was extremely high. The mirror's weight was supported by two clawed feet. They looked strong and sturdy - obviously they were. The red - haired boy could only just make out the inscription carved around the top. It read "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi". The mirror always intimidated him - he was no fool to fall prey to it, though. As hundreds of men, before him, had been driven to insanity, not knowing if what the mirror shows was real or even possible. He would not turn to madness, like those. And he could not recall of ever knowing a man who used The Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror. A man who did that, would have had to be the happiest man on Earth and see himself exactly how he was. He, George Weasley was not that man.

George Weasley stood in front of the mirror and sighed, dishearteningly. He could not see what his heart most desired. It was when he turned to walk away, that he heard a small voice call his name. He whipped his head around, facing somebody identical to him.
"Freddie..." He gasped, tears choking him.
"Hello, Georgie" His late twin spoke to him. Fred Weasley's ghostly remainder of a gentle smile was still etched on his face. Not the mischievous grin that he used to wear.
"How are you?"
"I guess I'm feeling happier after seeing you," Tears filled the eye of his reflection, though he kept on smiling, his gentle ghostly smile.
"That's good. I want you to be happy," Said George, in a voice that sounded nothing like his own; it was strangely falsetto.  
"But I can see that you aren't" Fred stated.
"...F-Freddie, why did you leave me? I'm lost without you. I-I need you, s-so badly!" George was crying hysterically now.
"I'm not gone, Georgie. I'm always with you. You don't need a mirror to see me," Fred's voice was wavering now. He was about to cry. "Don't forget that. Just because I'm not physically standing beside you anymore, doesn't mean that I've left you," Silent tears rolled down Fred Weasley's cheeks, now.
George was kneeling over, sobbing and hiccoughing loudly. "Oh Freddie, I-I love you,"
"I love you too, Georgie." Fred was still crying. He smiled endearingly.
"I WILL BRING YOU BACK!" George yelled with tremendous anxiety, standing up.
The smile disappeared from Fred's face and he wiped his eyes dry. "No spell can bring back the dead. You know that."
George's face fell. "I know that," he had stopped crying, so his voice was slightly stronger. But the look in his wary eyes, gave him away.
"Georgie, I believe in you. But please. Please don't try and be someone you aren't." Fred begged. His voice was strained.
"I won't, don't worry. I just...thought..." George's voice trailed of.
"Thought what?"
Looking down at the floor, George mumbled "I just... thought if I could bring you back, everything would be right again."
"Everything is right, already. Don't think about what happened, and don't dwell on the past, Georgie. That isn't doing anyone a favour. Just focus and keep thinking happy thoughts," Fred advised. "And keep Weasley's Wizard Wheezes running. It sells." He grinned mischievously.
George's face lit up and then dulled again. "I can't do it without you, though"
"What did I just say?" Fred asked sternly.
"To focus, think happy thoughts and keep the joke shop open..." George's tone seemed a little whiney and reluctant when he answered his brother.
"Well then. Do that. And I do not want to hear you complaining again, Georgie. When you see me again, I want you to be smiling and happy."
"Okay, okay. Just stop being so serious."
"Phew," Fred wiped invisible sweat from his forehead, "I was starting to sound like Percy!" He joked.
The Weasley twins both laughed hard and happily, together. The sound was beautiful. And for the first time in a long while, George's smile reached his eyes, making them twinkle with pure, innocent delight.