Disclaimer: I own nothing! All rights belong to J. in allher brilliantness.
Warnings/Spoilers: Erm, last book of you havent read it for some insane reason lol.
SLIGHT SLASH if you want to take it that way, if not then could be seen as friendship.
Summary: There are no words that are going to make it better, no amount of talking that can change what had happened, that doesnt mean he will be left to grieve alone, he wasn't going to let that happen.
No Words Can Make This Better
There are people all around him, clapping him on the back, hugging him, trying touch the saviour in one way or another. Harry's eyes do not see them as he weaves his way through the crowd, the shapes and colours all blending into one. Their voices sound like a distant buzz in his ear, rare words breaking through but making no coherent sense. People are happy, celebrating the defeat of the Dark Lord after so many long and painful years. Harry knows though that he can not join them, not yet. Not until he has seen everyone who has lost today and the days before, spoken to every family that needs and deserves to have their losses recognised. Now is the time for mourning.
As Harry finally reaches the Great Hall doors, he knows who he has to find first. He has to see him first, it can be no one else. Harry forces the doors closed behind him, sending a blessing of thanks that no one tries to follow him through. Even through the solid wood he can still hear the shouts of joy, but they are muffled now. Turning, Harry's feet are heavy as he walks his way through the corridor. He doesn't know exactly how he knows where to go, just that his feet seem to carry him automatically to a hallway, one side of the building blown out, debris sprayed across the floor.
Harry's eyes fall without hesitation on the figure slumped against the wall, knees brought up to their chest with their head raised, eyes locked solely on the gaping hole in the castle. The figure is coated in dust, dirt and blood and Harry's heart aches. He wants to call out to them, to tell them it is okay and that it is over. He wants to use his words to comfort them and make everything better. How can he? Harry knows there is nothing he can ever say that will make the man forget. Nothing he could say that would ever take the pain of losing Fred away from George.
This is why he needed to see him first. He knew no one, in all his life, who had such a bond as the Weasley twins had shared. It was something to be envied, how close they were, doing everything together. Succeeding together with their shop, even failing along the way together. They were strong and fearless, they were always inseparable. Harry could only imagine the absolute agony that George had to be feeling. He could only imagine that it must be like losing a limb, a part of you that had always been there, always been apart of you, then torn away viciously.
Harry didn't bother to be quiet as he walked towards the twin, he was certain George would of known he was there. He didn't say a word as he slid down the wall next to him, sitting so close that the sides of them were touching. George's eyes never wavered and he made no show of looking at Harry. Harry didn't hesitate as he reached out with one hand, placing it lightly on Georges arm. He waited. He would wait for as long as it took to at least make the pain a little bit easier to deal with, until George could move on the smallest amount.
It could have been hours or it could have been minutes, but at some point Harry felt George move, his arm wrapping itself round Harry's middle, his head leaning up against Harry's shoulder. Still George's eyes did not waver but despite everything, Harry smiled slightly, that George was still able to let Harry in. No words were exchanged, they wouldn't heal anything, but George still clung to him and Harry still clung back, conveying without meaningless talk that Fred would be missed and mourned, but they still had each other, they had still won. That, at least, made Fred's death mean something.
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