Well hey there! So, I thought some background info was necessary here… This is set after the second battle of Hogwarts. It was decided that the fallen are to be buried on Hogwarts grounds, and a mass funeral is being arranged. The families of the deceased, and pretty much everyone who fought there, are being housed in the castle until the ceremony. That's about it, so please enjoy the story! (Oh, and reviews are loved times a million!)

One Bookend

At first glance, he might have been looking out the window. Outside on the grounds, the wind ripped at the Forbidden Forest, and the Black Lake looked as though a whirlpool might emerge at any moment, carrying with it the enormous Durmstrang ship, but George Weasley saw none of this. His eyes were unfocused and blank, staring at his own reflection in the window, hollow and distorted by grief and the raindrops trickling down the glass.

They were a pair, a matched set. And what good is one without the other?

Suddenly, Fred's empty eyes stared back at him out of his own reflection. Fear, anger, and grief welled up in George's heart, looking for an escape.

He thrust a fist at the window, but the enchanted glass did not crack.

"Damn it, Fred," he shouted. "Why did you leave me? Why didn't they kill me too?" Again, and again, he punched the window, but even the pain that shot up his forearms was dulled; it could not compare to the pain that had lodged itself in his heart. And still, the glass refused to break.

In a rage, he pulled his wand from inside his robes and pointed it at the window. He bellowed "Bombarda!" and the glass shattered, scattering throughout the empty classroom.

A chill wind splattered rain across George's face, mixing with the blood that seeped from a cut on his cheek, but still there was no release from the pain.

His wand clattered to the floor, defeat washing over him. His hand brushed over the place where his ear used to be, and he thought of bookends.

One gone forever, and the other left cracked and unwhole; useless.

George collapsed onto a bench, holding his head in his mangled hands and looked, unseeing, at the tears, rain, and blood that pooled together on the desk.

He heard footsteps outside, but did not move.

There was a tap at the door, but he did not answer.

Only when the door creaked open, and a soft voice said, "George?" did he look up.

Angelina stepped slowly into the room. Her eyes darted over the sparkling shards of glass and the blood on the floor, and then fixed on George, who was still slumped over the desk.

She sat down next to him, then cautiously touched his shoulder. "Hey, are you… you should let me fix that," she said quietly, gesturing at his hands.

George said nothing.

Angelina took a deep breath, then started, "Listen, it's going to be alright-"

But George cut her off. "Alright? Alright? Fred is DEAD, Angelina. It will never… never be alright. I was right there, right next to him, and I… I couldn't save him, and now, he's… just dead."

To his surprise, Angelina grabbed him by the shoulders, her grip tight and unyielding. There was fire in her eyes now, and her voice was louder than usual. "You listen to me, George Weasley. Fred died to save you, and to save me. He died protecting the people he loved, and people he didn't even know. He died fighting the most horrible bastard who has ever walked this earth, and won. If I knew Fred, he'd be damn proud of that fact. And…" She faltered a little, but clenched her jaw and finished, "He'd be ashamed of you for giving up like this."

George stared at her in shock as the truth of her words began to sink in.

Finally, he said weakly, "What was that, Ang? You were talking into my bad ear…"

She looked at him incredulously, then grinned and punched him in the arm. "Stop it, George, you heard me."

Angelina reached out and took his hand, spreading warmth throughout his numb body, and George smiled for the first time since the battle.