Afterwards
Chapter One:
It was September second, 1998. About four months after the Second Wizard War, four months since the defeat of Lord Voldemort, and four months since the death of Fred Weasley.
George Weasley, the only Weasley twin left, was not taking it well, and it was quite obvious.
He barely left his room; food seemed to no longer matter for him, and he was shrinking his own clothes with the hope of his family not noticing. he needed help, he knew that, but he couldn't bring himself to seek it. He was too terrified to venture out into another world. Another world that lacked Fred Weasley.
The final decision to seek help was September second, 1998. It became known to his family at that momment that George was doing wore than they originally had thought on that very day.
It became known when Molly Weasley had decided to come into the room he basically lived in (it was his and Fred's old room). She was delivering him some clean laundry. She knocked on the door to his bedroom; there was no answer.
"Alamorha." She muttered.
The door unlocked, and Molly Weasley wandered in, carrying the basket of clean laundry. The sight that she had laid her eyes upon made her scream.
There, upon his unmade bed, sat her son. George Weasley had a knife by him, and his very own blood was splattered everywhere. His left wrist was slit. He must of blacked out before he could do the other wrist.
It was then that George Weasley was transfered to St. Mungos. Barely living, George's life was on the line. The Healers were certain of death; he had only a small chance of survival.
Molly and Arthur had no idea on who they should alert. Ginny, Ron, Harry, and Hermione were all at Hogwarts, taking their seventh year. Percy was over at Bill's place, helping him with something. Charlie was back in Romania...
Molly had alerted newly made Headmistress of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall of the situation. She asked for Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione to come to St. Mungos.
And so the four teenagers came. Not even at school for a dual and they were already at a hospital.
"Mum, what's happening?" asked Ginny, as she held Harry Potyer's hand.
"George." Ron said. "He... What did he do?"
"He tried to kill himself... His left wrist was slit..."
Hermione gasped. "Is he alive?"
"Yes, but barely." Arthur said.
Hermione nodded, and said, "My... My older sister, she would of been about Percy' sage now... She did what George did. Except she slit both her wrists. She was successsfull. She commited suicide."
Nobody asked her about her sister.
"He won't die. He won't. He just can't." Harry muttered.
Harry felt very guilty for the war; he thought all of the deaths were his fault. A small part of him recognized that it wasn't his fault in the long run, but he had yet to realise that part of him. All he needed now was for someone else he cared for to die. It'd be his luck. It always happened: Remus, Tonks, Fred... Sirius...
It was a bit later that afternoon when the healer came out and said that he was okay, but would be in support group for a bit.
Unkown to everbody:
George Weasley would meet the love of his life there.