A/N: I'm actually supposed to be writing this other George fic, for this other site, and thought this might be a good warm up. Plus, I desperately need something to reawaken the fanfiction gene in me, and who better for that than a Weasley or two? Hope you all enjoy.

Unfair though it seemed, George Weasley died young. No, not nearly as young as his twin - he never did off himself, much as he sometimes wanted to - but hardly as old as he should have been. He was in his fifties. His daughter hadn't given birth to her first child yet. It was a stupid death, too - there was a potions mishap in the shop that caught him unawares, and it hadn't even been his day to go in. If not for a well-timed crisis in the Auror Department, it might have been Ron who died middle-aged instead.

And now George was on a train. It looked a little like the Hogwarts Express, though he hadn't seen those shiny red compartments since his children finished their seventh years. And despite the peaceful life that he'd come to enjoy, the happiness he would surely miss, George felt completely at ease with the world. For a moment he couldn't remember why he was happy, why he felt an undeniable shudder of delight inside, and then it dawned on him: if he was dead, but he was on a train, then that meant that perhaps there was something after death. And if there was something after, then that meant -

The train ground to a halt after what felt like a very long time, and the door nearest to George slid open. Rather than a platform, an endless field of fresh grass lurked beyond the exit. George could almost not believe the predictability of this death world.

"George."

He gaped. Despite not having turned sixty yet, George did look significantly aged. His hair was grayed at the temples, and a few wrinkles had cropped up beneath his eyes. Angelina had teased that he could vanish them easily with his own products, but he had always refused. With what he had gone through, growing old felt an accomplishment; his age lines were proof that he had survived the worst kind of heartbreak, and lived beyond it.

But the man standing there on the grass... he was practically a boy. For a split second, George confused the grinning, freckled creature with a younger version of himself. "Fred?" he said, breathless. He snapped his mouth shut, his incredulity fading into overwhelming emotion. Who had he expected, anyway? This was only the moment he'd been looking forward to for more than half his life.

Fred grinned, the way George had once grinned, and stretched his arms towards his brother. "It's good to see you." It was such a terribly inadequate thing to say, but it was the most truth he could muster.

Before George knew it he was hugging his twin, hugging him and laughing madly and sobbing as hard as he had on the day Fred died. It had been so long. And no matter how much he loved his children, or his wife, they were not the same as Fred. They were people he could love, yes, but not people he could love with the same unconditional understanding

"I've been watching you, of course," Fred said. He had tears on his cheeks, but he was smiling. "Dad has too, once he joined me here." Arthur Weasley had died a few years before. "Your children... the shop..." He seemed at a loss for words. George hoped, suddenly, that he would like the fact that George had a son named Fred. It occurred to him for the first time that maybe it would seem strange. Perhaps not as strange as a bespectacled, green-eyed boy named Albus Severus, but... "You've done a wonderful job with it, Georgie." Fred had once called him Georgie when he was teasing, but his tone was shockingly sentimental now.

"With what?"

"With life."

George tried to smile, but found it hard. There was something wrong about how they didn't look the same, it made this harder. But what had he expected? Though Fred had once offered to cut off his own ear in order to keep their appearances identical, there was no way to sever thirty-five years of life from your body. "I guess I don't get to look young again, do I?" he said.

"Nah," Fred said. "That would be confusing, wouldn't it mate? If Angelina showed up here, all gray-haired, and found her husband was a teenager." He winked. George remembered vaguely that his brother had lost his virginity to Angelina, the mother of his namesake.

"So there are rules?"

"A few," Fred said with a shrug.

"My ear's back, though," George said, feeling a hand along the side of his head.

"Yeah, they're good about that," Fred said. "Mad-Eye got his other leg back, and the rest of his nose and his normal eye. Merlin was he annoyed about that part."

"You've seen them, then?" George said. "They're all here?"

"Some are a little hard to find," Fred said. "But for the most part. Sirius and the others should be waiting for us, along with Dad. You'll like James Potter a lot. You should hear some of his stories. I've heard them all, of course, but they change a little every time, so..."

James Potter? It took George an entire two seconds to realize Fred didn't mean their nephew.

They were walking now, across the field, and he didn't know what to say. Were you still twins with someone, if you weren't the same age and didn't look anything alike anymore? He wasn't sure. The days of Fred-and-George this, Fred-and-George that were only memories now. Now they were Fred Weasley, frozen in time, and George Weasley, father-husband-businessman. He had been foolish to think they could relive their glory days once reunited.

"It'll be a lot more fun with you around," Fred said. But his smile was thinner, and George wondered if he was pretending. "Some of the others are good with mischief, but not nearly as good as you and I."

"No one is," George said. They'd come to a dense section of trees, the most beautiful trees George had ever seen, and he could spot the end of the endless field just beyond the thicket.

"Look, I know it's weird," Fred said, impatient. "Being different ages. I'd always hoped... well, I knew the rules, but I still hoped they'd somehow grow me up or something."

"You have grown up," George said softly, though there was little evidence of it. "You don't look older, but... you've been here just as long as I've been there."

Fred shrugged his shoulders. "Time here's a bit different."

"Well, what then?" They hadn't ever fought, not seriously, but George could feel himself growing angry. It was unfair, if he had to spend eternity feeling miserable.

"Nothing," Fred said, shaking his head. "Forget it."

What happened to the Fred he remembered? He realized then, chillingly, that this was the Fred he remembered – it was he who'd changed.

"You can still read my mind," George said quietly, after a minute.

"No," Fred muttered. "We just think alike."

George's eyes flashed to Fred's. "And that's different?"

Fred nodded. "It is."

This had never plagued them before, this silence. There had never been a time in their lives where they couldn't talk to one another, couldn't say everything on their minds. But now… George found himself scanning Fred's body, trying to find one tiny little feature that still matched between them. Their eyes? George's looked worn. Their noses? Fred's had always been a tiny bit rounder around the nostrils, anyway. Why hadn't they noticed these small, detailed differences before?

"C'mon," Fred said, and George could see a deep, long-held sadness in his eyes. Maybe he was just as disappointed. "Dad can't wait to see you."

"All right, then," George said. He took a great step forward to stay in line with Fred. They were silent then, just walking, Fred leading him along eternity's landscape. He watched the blades of grass slide under their feet and suddenly, he smiled. "Fred," he said, his voice hushed. "Fred, we walk the same way."

Fred looked at him, "S'not true. I was always faster than you were." And with a maniacal, freeing grin, he broke into a run. George followed, slightly behind, knowing he would lose. A fifty-year-old's stamina couldn't compete with that of a young man. Well, that was okay. Fred always went first anyway.

A/N:. As much as I like to think they'd be happy to see each other (obviously), and as sappy as I think their reunion would be, I also think there would be some confusion and pain there. How do you get reacquainted with anyone you've been away from for that long, let alone your other half?

Anyway, that's just some food for thought. I hope this ficlet wasn't too awful, and please leave a review telling me what you liked/didn't like!