It's been a while, but here it is. The epilogue and final chapter of The Fireworks King. Thanks for reading!

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WHAM.

The sound echoed like a gunshot through the house, and mere seconds later, a dark-haired man bounded down the stairs, banged open a door, and shot down into the basement. He knew exactly where the sound had come from. There could only be one place, really. It's where his dad spent all his time now that mum was gone.

"Dad. DAD. Can you hear me?" He shouted as he made his way down into the basement. When he received no answer he became concerned, his brow furrowing and his heartbeat speeding up.

"Dad?"

He turned the corner and gasped. His father was on the ground, clearly having slipped from the stool at his workbench. The side of his head was bleeding, and his eyes were closed. All his life he had wished to never find himself in this position; he felt himself sink down on his knees, crawling quickly up to his fallen hero, his mouth open in silent shock.

"No…no no no, Dad, c'mon. You've got to be kidding me…" he managed to moan as he placed his father's head in his lap.

George opened his eyes. His grass green eyes. He saw the spitting image of himself so many years younger reflected before him in his son. But he had brown hair. That much was different. And he had his mother's blue eyes. His head hurt and throbbed. His vision blurred. But he could still see his boy as lights started to close in around him. Were those stars in the back of his head? He could hear music. It was beautiful!

"Fred." He smirked, reaching a weathered and weary hand up to pat his son on the cheek. "You're a good boy. How's Lydia?"

"She's fine Dad, she's great. We have to get you to Mungo's. You're losing a ton of blood." Fred's emotions betrayed him and a few tears landed on George's sweater. "What happened?"

"I'm late." He murmured, closing his eyes and lowering his hand, the last ounce of energy he had leaving him. "And she always hated it when I was late…"

"You're talking nonsense, Dad. I love you. Please-"

"Love you too, Freddie." Why was breathing so difficult? He felt like a rubber hand was pushing down on his lungs, his heart, his mouth…

"An adventure, he said!" He spoke in wonder, his eyes shooting open. He exhaled his last breath.

"DAD NO."

Gone.

The pain was gone. A brilliant white light and twinkling stars and dark heavens was all he could see. He could feel a smile on his face. Something…the sun perhaps, felt warm on his face. He closed his eyes to it. He must be traveling a very long way.

Then, grass.

He raised an eyebrow. His was lying on some spongy ground. Why could he see nothing?

He opened his eyes. A dim sky was above him, and he appeared to be in some garden. He smelled lilac and lavender. His body felt strong and supple, free from all pain and ailment. He blinked a couple times, then raised himself off the ground. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. His 80-year-old self had evaporated. He didn't feel a day over 20. He brought a hand up to his intact right ear, then another to his left. He put his hands in his face, feeling the absence of wrinkles and sagging skin. He was new.

He stood on his long legs, stretching. The garden blended into an orchard, and the sun was only just rising. What a beautiful dream! The sun was huge, and it painted the wispy clouds pink and orange. The orchard seemed to stretch on forever, and the smell of spiced oranges wafted in the air. And he had it all to himself.

"George!"

He heard her in the distance at first. It sounded like the far-off cry of a bird. But then she appeared from next to an old, twisted apple tree.

She wore a strapless dress of pale yellow, and it brushed the tops of her feet. Her long brown hair cascaded in waves down her beautiful back. Her piercing blue eyes were soft as they glanced on him, and she was smiling so radiant, it put the sunflower in her hair to shame. In her arms she carried a sleeping baby boy.

He took a step toward her, placing his hand on her soft cheek, cupping her chin and thumbing the delicate skin there. There were tears in her eyes as he kissed her gently.

"Theresa." He whispered, pressing his forehead to hers, and laying a hand on the head of the sleeping child in her arms.

"Is this-?"

"Yes." She nodded, watching as George gazed down at his little lost son who now breathed evenly in his mother's arms.

He couldn't peel his eyes away from the two of them. He felt that he could stay in this place forever, wherever it was.

"Are you real?" He asked, not wanting to find out that he was only experiencing a very vivid dream.

"Of course." She answered him, running her long fingers through his red hair. "And-"

"So'm I." another voice added loudly from beyond the great old tree. Suddenly, his brother stood next to his wife and child.

His face sparkled with merriment and laughter. He hadn't aged a second. George grabbed Fred's shoulders roughly, who only laughed as he was pulled into a tight embrace. As George finally let go of him, he said-

"There's so much to talk about."

"Luckily, we have forever to catch up." Theresa added as Fred slung an arm around her. The sun was hitting their faces now, and George stood in awe as he beheld the people with whom he would be spending a blessed eternity.

"Let's walk." Fred grinned.

And with that, the three of them meandered slowly across the orchard, their faces turned toward the beautiful sunrise.

Fin

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Please read and review! More stories are formulating in my brain, mostly about the Weasleys. Stay tuned for all of them.

Glorioski