AN: Again, I carefully step into before now uncharted waters. I'm just as much a Harry Potter fan as lots of you out here, but this is the first HP fic I've written and it might be the last. This one-part story came to me after reading the last installment. Being so taken with the twins, I hated that one of them was chosen as a victim...and then to be brushed aside with very little thought.

So here's my little remedy, set right after the battle of Hogwarts.

Spoilers: Missing piece if Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Disclaimer: No, I'm not J.K. Rowling. I wouldn't have let Fred die if I was.

Guilt is a bad advisor

A single beam of clear sunlight temporarily blinded the young man who struggled to open his eyes after what seemed like days of deep vast sleep. He blinked, straightened, stretched and fumbled around for his glasses. When his hand encountered the rim, he quickly put them on and instantly, his surroundings came into focus.

He was at one of his favorite places; his best friend Ron's bedroom at the Weasley house, a.k.a. The Burrow. A feeling of utter peace flooded over him as he realized they must have taken him there after he'd fallen asleep in the middle of the rubble that was now Gryffindor tower, too exhausted to wipe the dust off his four-poster bed, which was miraculously still standing.

While his brain whirled back to life, all past events came washing over him yet again and as soon as the peace had come, it now evaporated.

So many fallen, so many friends lost since Voldemort's return. The old muggle man at that cottage, killed by Nagini. Cedric when they both touched the Portkey and ended up at the cemetery. His beloved godfather Sirius. Dumbledore. And the previous year only saw the sad demise of Hedwig, Mad-eye, Dobby, little under-aged Collin Creevey, Lupin, Tonks (leaving poor Teddy, his godson, an instant orphan, like himself), Snape (turning out to be one of the bravest of all good men after all)…and Fred. Brave, smart, larger than life Freddy Weasley.

The last name practically catapulted him out of his bed. Poor Weasley's. First Bill gets attacked by a vicious werewolf, then George returns from getting Harry with one ear missing…Mr. Weasley gets attacked by a snake…and to sum it all up…one of the twins, one of his very best friends, a young man he trusted as much as he did his brother Ron, died in battle, died because the darkest wizard of this age wanted him, Harry.

He'd been right. Voldemort had been right when he said Harry used others as a shield. And for what purpose? Because he wasn't ready to face the man alone? Because the search for the Horcruxes took too damn long?

Or was it because he had been selfish all along? In the back of his mind he had known, always known that whoever befriended him would ultimately be in grave danger. And it had come true, with more vengeance than he could have imagined. But yet, he had foolhardily and selfishly latched onto their friendship, had allowed the entire family to embrace him, take him in like he was one of their own. And it has cost them dearly.

Surely the loss of one of their sons or brothers was too much of a price to pay for their allegiance to him, Harry. Their sacrifice would stain this wonderful warm people for the rest of their lives, even more so because two other members had sustained injuries that would always show. Even more so because he had almost disgraced their only daughter by snogging her.

Convinced he'd overstayed his welcome, he started to gather whatever belongings he still had, which wasn't much. Some tethered robes, his wand, some pictures and artifacts he inherited from Sirius, his Invisibility Cloak.

He wasn't quite sure where he would be going, though 12 Grimmauld Place came in mind, it was his property after all. Sirius wouldn't mind if he redecorated it, would he? Or maybe he could find himself a room somewhere in Hogsmeade…anywhere but here, where the very core of the family was damaged forever. Because of one kid who was too stubborn to die when he should have, and one who was too determined to fight to stay alive. He would have gladly given his own life to bring Fred back. And he cursed himself for throwing away the one thing which could have brought him to life again. Bring them all back.

The moment he was about to disapparate from the Burrow forever, the door opened and in came Ron. He looked pale and drawn, but managed to produce something resembling a smile when he noticed his friend was awake. Though the hint of happiness was retracted immediately when he noticed that that same friend was dressed and looking like he was ready to leave.

"Oi, Harry, mum wants to know if you'd like something to eat?"

"Ron…I…" Was he missing something here? What was this talk of food as if nothing else had happened? Why wasn't Ron more angry with him, like Harry was with himself? For the damage that was done in his name, for the pain he had ultimately inflicted? Fred was Ron's brother for heaven's sake!

At the same time, understanding dawned on his best friend's face.

"Harry…were you planning on leaving us? Just like that? No goodbyes, no thank you, no nothing? Did you think it would be easier like that? Easier for whom? For yourself? For us?"

When Harry remained quiet except for a curt nod, Ron became even more pale before gradually gaining more color as rage took over.

"Okay…let me get things straight. Our family fights with you, suffers with you, shelters you, protects you and even dies for you and the only way you want to repay our years of friendship and love, of hospitality is by running out? Nice way of showing gratitude, man. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And what was I supposed to tell mum, huh? She lost another son?"

No, no! He got it all wrong. Harry wasn't another son, no part of the family…he was the boy who had only brought death and destruction to this loving family and now it had to stop. How long could they all look at him without remembering he was the soul cause of their grief?

Pain washed over him, worse than he had felt whenever Voldemort was close. For this was no warning, no physical reminder of some dark Lord approaching. This was the pain of guilt and he gladly submerged in it; he deserved to feel it all, like a cleansing bath. In between gasps of agony, he realized he did owe Ron some kind of explanation.

"I'm not her son! Fred was. And he…he died. He's dead because he chose my side, because he…he never even saw it coming! He shouldn't have, none of you should have…it's all my…"

A wand was pointed directly at his chest, but when he looked up, he noticed it wasn't Ron holding it. His friend had stumbled out of the room to give access to a pale and panting George Weasley, his face contorted in a rage more turbulent than his younger brother's.

"If you're going to finish that sentence with the word 'fault' I'm going to curse you every which way I can think of, Harry Potter," he breathed. Harry looked up from the trembling hand into the eyes of the remaining twin. He opened his mouth to protest, but the jabbing of the wand against his ribcage refrained him from producing any sound.

"No…this time you're not talking. You're going to sit down and listen. Got that?"

Not knowing what else to do, he obeyed and slumped down on the rickety chair next to Ron's cluttered desk. George dropped his wand somewhat, but his eyes were vigilant, not letting go of his victim.

"Now, listen to me and listen hard, you stubborn idiot! Both Fred and I came of age last year. From that moment on we were free to choose out own paths and without your help we could not have realized our dream. That shop meant the world to both me and Fred and we owed you for it."

"But not…"

"Shut up, or else…Patrifi…"

"George, don't…" Ron interjected. George snarled at him.

"Stay out of this, little bro. This is something between me and our boy Potter here."

He turned back to Harry again, who'd had all the opportunity in the world to either flee or grab his own wand, but who had decided to remain seated.

"Okay, okay…" Ron backed a little out of the room, but lingered just outside, in case either one of them needed help.

Again, George turned to Harry and it seemed a little of his initial anger subsided when he noticed the pale stricken face of the young man with the scar and the tousled hair.

"Where was I…or right. Fred and me, we owed you. But that was not to soul reason we made the choice to fight. Even if we hadn't had your prize-money, we would have come to your aide. You might have thought all we were good for was some comic relief every now and then, but we knew when to be serious. We knew when we needed to be there. For the battle against the evil dark lord, and for you."

Harry opened his mouth again, asking meekly: 'Can I just ask you something?"

George nodded his consent, and Harry sighed in relief. He desperately needed to get this off of his chest. "He was your twin, you were inseparable. Yet you're talking to the one whose ultimately responsible for his death. If you hadn't been my friends…"

"You still don't get it, do you? If we hadn't been your friends, we probably wouldn't have had the will to fight. We might have been cowards, we might have believed the lies of the Daily Prophet, thinking that none of what Voldemort and his Death Eaters did would effect any of us. And we would have left it alone. Now what would that have made us?"

"Alive!"

"Alive? And tell me this Harry, what's so great about being alive in a regime which makes it impossible to live, to laugh, to love, to enjoy yourself with whomever you choose, regardless of bloodlines?"

He had no answer to that. All he mumbled was: "But it was MY fight. You weren't supposed to…"

All anger which had almost disappeared from the remaining Weasley twin now came hurtling back. Wand raised from his chest to the scar on his face, the taller boy stood and towered above him, the redness in his face clashing almost comically with his hair. Only nobody was laughing.

"YOUR fight? This was your fight? Would this day be any brighter if Fred was left alive and you were a dead martyr? Would any of us mourn any less? Would the tears shed over your corpse by Ron, Ginny, Hermione, by mum and dad and my other brothers, would my own tears or those of Fred's be any different than the ones we shed now? Show my brother's memory some decency and mourn him like the hero he was, because he too chose to stand in line and fight!"

"I am mourning him!"

"Like hell you are. You are mourning the sad demise of your own identity, yet you bask in your own self-righteous heroism. The boy who had to be the one to face the Dark Lord by himself. The boy who has so conveniently forgotten he could only survive because of the web of love woven around him. You say you value love and friendship, yet the moment this friendship is proven with the ultimate sacrifice, you diminish it by leaving without a word."

"But I could never…how could I face you all? How…? Why would…he's dead because of me!"

"He's dead because he loved you Harry."

Yet another voice had joined their heated discussion and only now did Harry notice the entire Weasley family, including Bill and Fleur, the last one carrying baby Teddy, standing on the small landing across the room. It was Ginny who had spoken the last sentence as she silently moved to stand in between her brother and the boy she loved. With a nod, George lowered his wand and slumped down, exhausted. Ginny took a seat on Ron's still rumpled bed.

"Harry…Fred died because he loved you. We all fought because we love you. Because we wanted to help lift the burden which you've hauled so selflessly onto your own shoulders. Because you were never alone. We knew what we were getting ourselves into, all of us. And we knew the danger we were in, even way before this last battle. What George, not all too eloquently means to say is, that none of us see you as the guilty party in any of this and neither would Fred. By walking out on us, if that is what you were planning to do, you're telling us his death has been for naught. And it wasn't. Face it Harry, you're not the only one whose entitled to choose between living like a coward or dying like a hero."

"If only I hadn't thrown away the stone."

Ron turned to his mother, who gasped. He and Hermione had spent the entire night filling the rest of the family in on their quest, including the tale of the Deathly Hallows. They hadn't gone to bed at all while they held vigilance next to Fred's body as well as those of Tonks and Remus, all brought back to the Burrow.

Now, Molly Weasley spoke softly, kindly.

"Harry, that stone…it would have caused more damage than it's worth. My son did what he thought he had to do and even though I'll miss him terribly, I am also very proud of him. We all are. But as appealing as it sounds to bring them back, all of them…I would rather think of them the way they were."

Tears flowed feely down Harry's face as he regarded all of them, setting his eyes on George.

"I'd like to say goodbye to them…if I can."

George nodded and together, followed by the other Weasleys and Hermione they descended the staircases until they reached the front room, where three beloved persons were lying next to each other, the lower halves of their motionless bodies covered with the Gryffindor flag. Soft candles were floating in mid-air and fresh flowers adorned every corner.

Tentatively, Harry approached the body on the far right of the room. Remus Lupin showed no signs of being a werewolf at all, his features more relaxed and gentle than Harry had ever seen them in life. He stretched out his hand to caress the face of the man who had given him his firstborn as a godchild.

"Goodbye, Mooney. And thank you."

He turned abruptly to glance into the face of Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin. Her hair once again turned pink (Hermione gestured she did that, whispering she thought the woman would prefer it that way), she looked too young to be a mother and Harry's heart sank at the thought of little Teddy, squirming in Fleur's arms, oblivious to the fact these silent and still people were his parents, whom he would never meet.

"Wotcha Tonks. Don't worry about your son. He'll grow up happy, knowing all about your bravery. I'll make sure of it." He bent over to kiss her brow.

Without anywhere else to turn to, he finally cast his eyes in the motionless form of Fred Weasley. Of all the deaths, his remained the one that simply failed to register properly. He remembered Fred playing Quiddich, listening in on their parent's conversations with the Extendable ears, soaring through Hogwarts on his broom while setting off the best fireworks ever produced by anyone. He remembered his pride that their shop was doing so well. It made him turn to George suddenly.

"George? Were you planning on opening the shop again?"

The older boy sighed. "Yeah…it's what he would have wanted."

Harry nodded. "Then count me in. I'll work for you."

Ron and Hermione gasped. "I thought you wanted to be an Auror."

Harry shrugged. "I don't think I'd want that anymore. I've literally seen enough to last me a lifetime. And I don't want to go back to Hogwarts either, perhaps maybe just to help rebuild it…no, Fred Weasley can be proud of me yet."

He faced the cold twin again. "Fred…thank you. For your faith in me, for everything funny and good and warm and wonderful about you. I'll take care of your shop for you, make George here a very rich man."

George grinned slightly, but regarded Harry with trepidation. "Harry…as much as I'd love to have you as a partner, if you're still doing this out of guilt, than…"

"I'm not George. Fred was there for me in a way I needed him and I'll never forget him for who he was. And if working with you to bring the dream the both of you had back alive is what he would have wanted…if it is what you want, than I can't think of a more rewarding career."

George now smiled, a true smile, for the first time since Percy had shuffled over to tell him the devastating news. He clamped Harry by his shoulder and regarded his brother.

"Whaddaya say, Freddie? Should I let him get involved in our little business?" When everybody remained silent, he nodded.

"I think he would have welcomed you with open arms. Welcome to the business man. And welcome back to the family."

Before he knew it, he was swept in a bear hug, which soon became a group hug as Ginny, Ron and Hermione joined in. After a while Mrs. Weasley scraped her throat.

"Well Harry? How about some breakfast then?"

THE END

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