Disclaimer: I am not Jo Rowling and I don't own in anyway the world or characters she created
This can't be right I thought to myself. This is just some cruel, sick nightmare, a hallucination, that's all. I know this can't be real because my big brother can NOT be lying here in my arms, pale, cold, and still. But that's exactly what I thought, the night that Fred died.
George hasn't really been around lately and if he is, he's not all there mentally. It's like his mind is on another planet. He mostly keeps to himself, locked away in his room. I'd imagine that he feels as if half of himself was ripped away. Exactly how I felt when Harry left. No, our bond was not as soul deep as what Fred and George had, but it was still deep none the less.
When Harry left I wasn't myself. I was only half of what I used to be. I felt like I was alone in the world, and had no where to turn, with no one to dry my tears. I was…angry, scared, upset, depressed, and worried about Harry. I wondered where he was, what he was doing, if he was thinking about me like I was thinking about him…but Fred was there. He never left me. Maybe because he knew I needed someone to be there, maybe because he was afraid I'd do something serious. I'll never really know, because Fred is gone. If I could eat that day, he made sure I ate. He bathed me and did everything I couldn't do for me, but most importantly he was there, and he helped me heal. He helped me become myself again, helped me be able to stand on my own two feet.
I know I've got to do this for George now; I have to help him heal. I need to be there for him. Fred wouldn't want us to be broken apart, he'd want us to stand together for simply one reason: to heal.
AN: So I know it's kinda short, but I wrote this in world history and really wanted to post it. Please review!