DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter. At all.

This is the first fic I've written in ages. It is also my second ever Harry Potter fic. I hope it is up to scratch. I trust that you have read the Deathly Hallows since this contains spoilers.

It took me days to get over Fred's death, so I decided to write about the pain of his death from George's POV.

Reviews are love.

The funeral was almost unbearable. His parents embraced one another the whole time, each seeking solace in the other's arms. Ginny sobbed into Harry's chest and his brothers stood together in a group, silent tears streaming down their faces.

But George remained stony faced and still. He had not cried, he did not think that he could cry. George did not feel sadness, anger or grief, just a sense of loss. Nothing would ever be whole again. Nothing would ever matter again. George knew that half of his soul had died along with his twin.

George blinked and the service was over, his family and friends heading slowly back over to the Burrow for the wake. Every so often someone would put a reassuring hand on his shoulder or throw him a sympathetic glance. But George never noticed. Everything had stopped mattering now.

Days passed and life at the Burrow remained sullen and quiet. Nobody spoke at meals, just occasionally stared at the spot that had once been Fred's. George had stopped coming down for food. Molly had taken to bringing trays up to his room and leaving them at the door.

Numb. That was how George felt. Just numb. As much as he wanted to grieve, to be sad, to cry, to express how he felt about his twin's death, he couldn't. He just lay on his bed staring up at the ceiling, occasionally fiddling with the hole on the side of his head. He remembered joking to Fred that he was now 'saintlike'. Fred had scoffed of course and pretended to be surprised at such a bad pun. But George knew his brother was just trying to cover the way he really felt.

As the weeks went by the Wizarding community began to repair the damage Voldemort had left behind. Shops were reopening, Death Eaters were being convicted and people were venturing out again, no longer afraid of being captured and tortured.

George had been delaying his return to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes as long as possible but it became apparent that he would need to go back. The demand for his and Fred's products was still as high as ever. Percy had even offered to go with him to reopen the store but George refused. He was perfectly capable of doing it himself.

Standing in front of the establishment brought no sudden wave of grief over George. He still felt numb and emotionless as ever. He unlocked the door and walked in, starting slightly as the bell tinkled above him. The store looked exactly as he and Fred had left it. Products packed in boxes and lined against the walls, purple sheets draped over the counter and register, U-No-Poo posters rolled up and thrown haphazardly into a corner.

The day went slowly. George unpacked all the boxes and set everything up on their appropriate shelves. He dusted the counter, served a few people and he didn't realise it was lunch time until Verity approached him and said 'Mr Weasley, I think you deserve a break.'

George did not protest, he merely nodded, grabbed his cloak and left for Florean Fortesque's. As soon as he was out the door it hit him with the force of a giant. Fred was gone, he was no longer a twin, and he was running the store by himself. Fred was never coming back. He was never coming back. The grief and sadness that had evaded George since the day of his twin's death suddenly filled his entire being and he fell to his knees sobbing like a child.

It was most likely minutes but it might as well have been hours as far as George was concerned, when someone came out of the store and put their arms around his shoulders as he shook with repressed sobs. George did not know nor care who it was, he grabbed the front of their cloak and cried into their chest.

'I think you should go home, Mr Weasley.' Came a faint voice. 'Are you okay to Apparate?'

George nodded and Disapparated from Diagon Alley and Apparated at the Burrow. He could not face his apartment, not now.

END

Please review.

Until next time, Abyssinia,

Lucy