Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Dear Fred,

I never met you. I would see you around, and when Ginny started talking to me, she told me exciting stories of you and George's escapades, and jokes you had told her, and all of these other fascinating stories that were just embellished by the obvious love she had for her older brothers. She loved you, you know. Still does. We all do.

George is sitting next to me as I mentally compose this letter, staring blankly at the ground. He does that a lot now. I asked him once if it was Nargles, but he just smiled sadly at me and then turned back to looking at your grave, tracing the polished letters on the soft stone with his eyes.

I planted flowers, you know. For all of them, for all the people we've had to bury. For you.

We've had to bury too many people, George. This year, everyone will be able to see the thestrals. Mummy said once that they were beautiful, the skeletal horses with the thin coats and blank eyes, and despite the fact that I could not see them, I took her for her word.

Then, when I could see them, I relished their terrible beauty, because it brought me closer to the mother I had lost.

I'll take care of him. I didn't know you, Fred, but I know George. And I'll take care of him, because right now he needs family, but he also needs what I can do. Sit, without crying. Sit calmly with him, at your grave.

Love, Luna.

Dear Gred,

It should have been me.

I was already broken.

Love, Forge.

Dear Fred,

He's gotten better, a little. I've managed to bring out some sandwiches for us, courtesy of your mum, and George ate a bit of his.

He's started eating again, and really getting dressed in the morning, and leaving his room to do things other than sit by you. It makes me happy. I was starting to get worried, and was going to go to St. Mungo's to ask Daddy for his recipe for Gurdyroot juice.

(But I don't think George would like Gurdyroot juice that much, so I guess it's good that he's getting better.)

It'll get better. That's what I tell myself, and Ginny, and even your mum when she starts crying whilst chopping onions.

I like your mum very much. She's quite strong. She's taking care of all of us, but your dad and I try to take some of the chores sometimes. I'm living at the Burrow, for now, while Daddy's still in St. Mungo's, staying in Ron's old room while he and Hermione try to find Wendell and Monica Wilkins. I hope they do. It's very hard for Hermione, but I'm glad she has Ronald.

(He has got a lot of posters of that dreadful Cannons Quidditch team, though.)

Love, Luna.

Dear Fred,

I miss you. A lot.

I spent the first two months after the battle in my room, in your bed. Ignoring the world. Wanting to kill myself, but not being able to do that to Mum, or Ron, or Ginny. Or Luna.

Guess what, Fred? Loony Lovegood is now one of my best friends. She puts up with my incessant crying, refusal to eat anything, and (initially), my refusal to bathe.

(I got over that one pretty quickly. Turns out, there's a reason why people bathe. Showers, at least scalding hot ones, make it pretty easy to forget.)

(Also, smelling like flowers is a nice plus. We were out of everything but Ginny's weird honeysuckle thing.)

Ron and Hermione are finally together. So are Harry and Ginny.

I think Mum's given both of them the, "If you do anything to hurt my precious spawn I will Crucio you for all eternity. Even when I'm dead," speech.

Love, George.

Dear Fred,

They're almost finished repairing Hogwarts! Harry's downstairs talking to McGonagall, who's probably going to retire as Headmistress once they get some new teachers in. She is rather old.

We've buried all our dead, and Hogwarts is almost open again. But it'll never be the same as it was before. The first years will be a little more scared, fewer people will return, and the ones who do will look tired beyond their years. There will be empty beds in dormitories, empty seats in the Great Hall. The Room of Requirement won't exist anymore.

I get tired, sometimes. Tired of the crying, tired of the meetings of the Order that seem to never end. Tired of the feeling I get when I Apparate to my former house and see the ruins.

George is better. He's taken to using humor instead of crying. It's definitely his natural defense mechanism, but his heart's not in it. His eyes aren't dead, but they aren't dancing with mischief like they are in all of the old photos in Bill and Fleur's cottage.

I'm seventeen, now. My birthday happened a few weeks ago. But I didn't tell anyone. Why?

It's yours. Yours and George's. The both of you are exactly three years older than me.

Is three years too much of an age difference?

Love, Luna.

Dear Fred,

Luna thinks I didn't know about her birthday, and for most of the day I didn't. But then I passed by Ron's room and saw her, shoulder's shaking, holding a card with a childish picture of a cake drawn on it.

It was presumably from her dad. Despite the occasional updates she's given, only when someone remembers that this girl is not an angel and has problems, I know that he's not better. Not by much.

During her whole birthday, my whole birthday, your whole birthday, I sat at your grave. She sat with me. She does a lot of things with me, now. I sometimes forget that she's seventeen, when she seems so much older than I am.

Is three years too much of an age difference?

Love, George.

Dear Fred,

George smiles, sometimes, now. He doesn't cry every day, he does magic again, and he started trying to play the piano. Watching Hermione's attempts to teach him were pretty humorous. She got frustrated halfway through and he was practicing scales for weeks before she finally agreed to give him another lesson.

Hermione found her parents! The trip took quite a while, but she restored their memories. When she and Ron returned, they were quite happy.

(I suspect a lot more was happening on that trip than they both let on. When Ron came back, I heard him and Harry talking. Harry congratulated him quite loudly.)

I guess someone did know about my birthday after all. I found a small gift on my bedside table, a locket with a note inside it. The note read, simply, Happy Birthday.

I think it was Ginny, but I didn't recognize her handwriting.

I'm wearing it right now, instead of my cork necklace.

Love, Luna.

Dear Fred,

I was supposed to give that locket to Angelina.

But it was silver, like Luna's eyes when she's smiling, and I couldn't.

I'm learning to play the piano! I learned a marvelous piece the other day called, "Shut Up George Or I Swear, I Will Stupefy You." Hermione is such a great teacher.

Luna likes to watch our lessons, letting out a quiet laugh when I do something particularly idiotic. I've begun to do stupid things on purpose. I like her laugh.

Did you know that Luna planted flowers on all the graves? Hydrangeas for Tonks and Lupin, because they can apparently change color in different soil. Other, various flowers for most of the dead, because she has quite an extensive knowledge of flowers.

I don't know exactly what the flowers you got are called, but she said they were her favorite. They look like really big daisies, but they're coloured weirdly… You would like them.

You would like Luna. It's sad you never really met her.

Love, George.

Dear Fred,

I'm sad today, so I'm sitting in my new room at the Burrow, because I had to move when Ron got back.

Now, I'm actually in your room. George sleeps in your old bed now, so I'm in his bed. It's quite comfortable, but a few nights ago I found a candy that turned me into a canary when I ate it. It was actually quite amusing, and when George walked in and saw the surprised expression on my face, we both burst out laughing.

His laugh is lovely. I had never heard it before.

Eventually, when the laughter died down, I turned back into my normal appearance.

I quite liked making George laugh.

Love, Luna.

Dear Fred,

The absolute funniest thing that I have ever seen is Luna Lovegood after eating one of our canary creams.

I remember testing all of our products, the euphoric feeling we got when something worked.

I miss that. I miss you. Every day, it gets easier and easier, but that's mainly because I have Luna.

She's amazing.

Love, George.

Dear Fred,

Merlin, I am such an idiot. I was half asleep by the time I had finally gotten to bed last night, and so I stumbled into the wrong bed.

Let me repeat that:

I slept with George.

Er… not actually 'slept with.' I mean, yes, but not in the colloquial sense of the term. Only sleeping.

He's actually very cuddly.

We woke up, and I realized where I was, and tried to extricate myself from the blankets. He just laughed, and pulled me into a hug.

I think I'm falling in love.

Love, Luna.

Dear Fred,

I've been happy all day. Waking up with Luna in my bed was… unexpected, to say the least. But wonderful.

Mum raised her eyebrows when we came down together, and Dad did nothing but smile into his cup of tea.

I think that she would move us if there was more room in the Burrow. But Harry and Ron are sharing a room, and there is no way that Luna and Ginny and Hermione can all fit into Ginny's tiny room. Bill and Percy's old room has been taken over by the Order.

I'm glad that I'm with Luna.

Love, George.

Dear Fred,

Every day, I fall more in love.

Love, Luna.

Dear Fred,

Today, I went into our room, and she was there, reading a back issue of the Quibbler and smiling. She was beautiful, and in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to kiss her.

So I did.

I wish you were here. I miss you every day, and that'll never go away. But she's helping to ease my pain, helping me to remember the good things.

Love, George.