AN: DEATHLY HALLOWS SPOILERS! I'M WARNING YOU NOW TURN BACK IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THE BOOK!

Now that that is done

I couldn't believe Fred died. I just couldn't. It was so SAD. Anyway. Fanfiction.

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, so many people would still be alive. So I don't own it.

/…/…/…/…/

George was exhausted. Being in a war was a lot of work. He was covered in small cuts and dust and couldn't wait to find Fred and have a good laugh with him.

But when he entered the Great Hall shock froze him to the floor. There were so many dead bodies already lining the ground. There were so many people he knew, all gone. Before his eyes could travel down the line though, he heard his mother sobbing.

His heart stopped and he turned toward the sound. Was someone hurt? The thought that someone had died wouldn't even enter his mind, but as his eyes rested on his family he felt something inside him snap.

There was Fred, lying on the floor in the line of those who had fallen. No. He's not dead. He can't be dead, George thought to himself, forcing his legs to move forward.

He was sprinting, but every step seemed harder to take, he couldn't seem to get any closer to his twin. When he finally reached them his dad reached out and pulled him close, giving him a quick hug before going back to comforting his mom.

"He's-"

He couldn't bring himself to say it. Slowly he walked around his brother and kneeled next to him. "Fred," he said, in a voice so broken that it made Mrs. Weasley cry even harder.

Gently, he lifted Fred's head and placed it on his lap. "Fred," he whispered, to himself, to his brother, so that no one else could hear him. "Wake up. Please wake up."

But Fred didn't stir.

George's fists clenched in anger. Who had done this? Who had stolen his twin away from him? Why wasn't he crying over Fred's body like his mom was?

With a shaking hand George traced the side of Fred's face and at that moment knew he was really gone. It felt like half his soul had been ripped out of him at that moment.

It didn't feel real. It didn't feel possible. This was some horrible nightmare, and he was going to wake up. He'd wake up crying, and Fred would see and make some joke to make everything alright. Because Fred wasn't dead, he couldn't be dead.

Fred's dead.

He felt his throat burning and a sob rising within him. Who was going to finish his sentences? Who was going to make a joke out of everything with him? How could he confuse his parents with who was who?

He couldn't. He never could again.

His other half was gone. His best friend, his partner, his brother.

The tears built up in his eyes and made Fred blur in front of him. Soon tears were falling down his cheeks, landing softly on Fred's, making it look like he was crying to.

And he opened his mouth, and instead of sobbing he tried to laugh. He knew it was what Fred would want.

He would want me to laugh.

And as much as he tried to laugh, to joke, he just couldn't. A sob broke free from his throat and he let another slip.

I'm sorry Fred, but I can't laugh. I just can't.

Half of him was now missing, and he couldn't even fufill his brothers one wish for him to laugh, to smile. And he didn't know if he could do it ever again.

/…/…/…/

AN: Yes it's quick, just wanted to write something about it.