Author's Note: This type of story has been sitting in my head for a while. I have yet to give George closure that I like (considering I hate The River), and I guess I like this one. I'm going to be writing more GxA in the next few days, I think. I like them. And yes, I've decided to give Angelina green eyes. I'll go through Monument and fix any references to her eyes that may have been a different color. Oh, and the names Botharius and Longshanks were inspired by my friend, who intends to name his sons Botharius, Longshanks, and Richard Jr. Poor children!

Disclaimer: Should I have written Harry Potter, Freddie would be alive.

Those Who Fell
A GeorgexAngelina Fanfic
April 19, 2008

It was a bright, clear day at the Burrow, and, as per usual, it was filled with noise and bustling. This action, however, was a bit different from the norm: Instead of Molly Weasley yelling for the chores to get done (though it was only she and Arthur living at the Burrow now, it was never uncommon to a grandchild or two tottering around while their parents were at work) , she was ordering around several workers who were desperately trying to construct a large white tent under the threatening gaze of the Weasley mother. She seemed to be in her element, a huge smile on her face and her cheeks flushed with excitement. The idea of another one of her babies – and this baby especially! – getting married was overwhelmingly enthralling.

In a back room of the Burrow, George Weasley sat on the bed of his childhood, his head in his hands and a confused, somewhat tortured, look on his face. Ron and Charlie Weasley leaned against the walls, their expressions worried. Sighing almost inaudibly, George turned towards his brothers, a mix between a smile and a grimace on his face. "You know, you guys shouldn't just wait in here with me. I need some time to think."

Charlie grinned slightly, walking over to George and clapping him on the shoulder. "It's your wedding day, mate, and we're in the ceremony. It's our job to make sure that you're okay before you make the biggest decision of your life."

"Yeah. I mean, bloody hell, who would have thought this day would ever come?" Ron had never been known for his tact (unless the subject was Hermione), and Charlie sent him a scathing glance when George blushed and returned his gaze to the floor. It was an unspoken rule that they did not talk about the depression that plagued George right after the war, the depression that he still had to take a potion for when he felt it creeping at the edge of his conscience.

"Nice going, Ron," Charlie mouthed and Ron glanced at his feet and shrugged his shoulders in apology.

"Look, I need some time with my best man, okay?" George muttered, still looking at his feet. "I'll talk to you guys later. I promise I won't be late." He heaved himself off the bed and elbowed his way past his two brothers, desperate for consolation and advice from the only person who ever could talk sense into him besides Angelina.

George smirked to himself at the thought of his beautiful bride-to-be. So many people thought this day would never come; so many people thought the relationship between him and Angelina was simply a 

rebound for them both. It was no secret that Angelina had been romantically linked to Fred, and it was no secret that after Fred's death, George was inconsolable for months. Years, in fact. Estranged from his family and nearly emaciated, the only person who had ever been able to have a conversation with him, albeit small, was Angelina Johnson, mainly because she was nearly as upset as he.

But then they'd found a bit of Fred in each other, and neither would deny that was what attracted them to each other at first. Angelina had the only memories of Fred that George didn't know; George was Fred with a few subtle changes. And then they found each other, and found that they really did love the other. Perhaps they would have ended up together even if Fred hadn't died; perhaps it was Fred's death that caused the two to be drawn together, but George knew that he was as happy as he ever would be. She managed to fit herself into the jagged fracture that was a lonely Weasley twin, and even though it wasn't a perfect fit, George felt…happy.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to talk to Fred. And so George strode anxiously towards the willow where that damn grave was, a sense of purpose on his face and trepidation in his heart. It didn't take long for his long limbs to carry him to the stone marker, and he could feel those damn tears welling up in his eyes as he sat down next to the worn stone. Inhaling deeply, George shut his eyes and bit his lip, not quite sure what to say.

"Hey Fred," he began, voice quiet. "I know you probably didn't expect me to come today...Bloody hell, I doubt you want me here today. You're probably pissed that I'm marrying Ang, and you have a right to be… So many people think I'm stealing your girl, you know? It's just not right, I'm not trying to steal her, I never thought I was at least. I never thought I would actually fall in love with her, y'know? I thought that she'd just be a friend, someone to talk to when I needed to actually… say something. Everyone told me it would be a good idea to talk, and so when I finally talked to her it was…satisfying. Yeah, satisfying is the right word.

"But then we kept talking, and I realized that I actually liked her personality. She was funny, and sweet, and smart, and she knew about you, and she could empathize with me in a way that nobody else could. I guess I feel bad for getting mad at her in the days where I couldn't really move from your monument…Do you remember those days? I was pathetic, you would've laughed at me, but you were never in my situation, now were you? No, you got the easy way out and you got to go and die. Lucky bastard," George swore, more to himself than to Fred.

"Anyway, I didn't come here to moan about how much I miss you. You already know that I miss you so much that it hurts for me to breathe half the time. No, I came to talk to you…I came to ask your permission really…I wanted to know if it was okay for me to, uh, move on, I guess.

"Okay, I know that sounds really awkward. But I've been so damn numb for so long, and now I'm about to start a family with Ang. I can't really be numb, now. Not at this point in my life. I need to be alert for my family, I need to really focus on the shop… I want to be the best father I can be. Did you know that Angelina is pregnant? Well, you probably did, you always knew everything before I did, but yeah. She's pregnant. We haven't told anyone yet because we don't want them to think that we're only getting married because she's got a kid coming. We actually do love each other, Fred. And I think that we're going to have a good family… I wish you were here to see it. You're my best man, of course you know that, but I wish you'd been able to throw me that fabulous stag party you always promised." The corners of his lips twitched as George ran a hand through his hair, sighing as he struggled to form the words that he wanted to say.

"Back to the point. We'll never forget you, Fred, and I know I'll never forget you. Angelina said I could name the kid – even though I've threatened to name it something stupid like Botharius or Longshanks – and I've decided that I'm going to name him (I'm sure that it's a him) after you. Frederick Gideon Weasley Junior. It's a big name for him to live up to, and I feel bad naming another child after a dead person. Did you know that Harry named his second son Albus Severus? Albus Severus! Dumbledore and Snape must've had a field day with that one, hm?" By now, George was actually laughing out loud, something he hadn't done in a long, long time.

"And, again, I'm off topic. I just wanted to say that we'll never forget – I'll never forget – those who fell. You guys gave up your lives for us, and that means the world to me. It means that my son and wife will be able to live in a world where they're not always scared that You–Kno… Voldemort…" – he still had difficultly saying the Dark Lord's first name – "will burst in and kill them. I owe you all so much for that, Fred. I wish that he hadn't taken you away, and I promise you that Rookwood died a slow and painful death – you can thank Perce for that. Anyway….yeah. I'll never forget those who fell, and I'll defiantly never forget you. I never told you this enough when we were alive, but I love you, Freddie. You are, and remain to be, my best friend. You'll always be the first person in my life and my heart, and I know that you'll be waiting for me in heaven. Bet I get a grand reception – I am, after all, saint-like." George sniggered, squinting up at the sun and grinning.

"That was… interesting, George." The voice shocked him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin as his hand instinctively went to his wand. He exhaled a brief sigh of relief as he realized that it was just Angelina, but then anger and embarrassment flared up in his face as he returned his gaze to the ground.

"Not that I haven't expected what you just said was true." Angelina sighed, plopping herself on the ground next to him. George allowed his eyes to roam over her body; she looked gorgeous in her white dress. It accentuated her dark skin nicely, but her shockingly green eyes stood out the most against the light clothes. "Look at my face," she said sharply. "There's plenty of time for that later." Her voice was heavy with implications, and George laughed.

"You're right. And...Uh…I'm sorry you had to hear that." George rubbed the back of his head as his ears flushed red. "That wasn't meant for you to hear."

Angelina shrugged. "It's no big deal. I'm not so stupid as to assume that you're fully over Fred's death. It would be stupid of me, in fact, to think that you'd ever be over Fred's death. But it's refreshing to know that you're going to try for our family." Her smile was small as she leaned over to kiss his cheek. "I love you, George. I know that I'm not Fred, and I know that it hasn't been the same since that day, but you know he would want you to be happy."

"I know," George exhaled, kissing the top of Angelina's head. "I think I finally understand that."

"Good," Angelina said, settling her head on his shoulder. "You mean everything to me, George; I just want you do be happy."

"I'm going to try from now on, Ang. I promise. Now shouldn't you be hiding from me, blushing in some back room with Alicia as you talk about all the dirty things you intend to do to me later?"

Angelina laughed at the sparkle in George's eye, something that hadn't been there in nearly eight years. "I'd much rather do them to you, darling," she whispered, kissing his freckled neck.

"Tsk tsk! As you've said 'there's plenty of time for that later,'" George smirked. "Now go get ready. I'll see you in a few minutes."

Angelina smiled and nodded, pushing herself off the ground and offering a hand for George. "No, I'll be there in a second," he promised, leaning against the gravestone. Shrugging, the statuesque woman turned on her heel and made her way back to the tent.

George stayed at the stone for a few more minutes, his eyes staring off into the horizon. There was a presence next to him, something that he'd never really noticed before. It was comforting, and George could feel himself healing. Even if it took years, he knew that eventually he would be okay again.

Those who fell would never really leave him. Not really.