This is my own version of what happens after the final film. (Excluding the future bit)… Please enjoy and, if you're like me and refuse to see the twins split up, accept this as the true ending to their story.

Chapter One: Gone

"George. George sweetheart," Molly Weasley touched her son's shoulder and he flinched back from her hand. He was kneeling on the dusty floor, his hands limp at his sides and his head hung low above his dead twin. His face was ashen and his eyes looked as cold and empty as Fred's. Tears had left clean tracks down his otherwise dirty face and they still streamed silently down his cheeks as his eyes stared blankly at the empty shell on the floor.

Most of the people who had been in the Great Hall were making their way back to their homes and families; many had been injured in the fight against the Dark Lord and a few had given their lives to save the ones they loved. Like Fred. Harry had fought valiantly alongside Hermione and Ron and even clumsy, not-too-bright Neville Longbottom had given his all in the battle. Neville stared now, uncomfortable in the private moment of the Weasley family. He patted Harry, who was comforting Ginny, on the back and walked out into the bright day. The sun shone merrily through what remained of the windows and great shafts of light glinted off Ron's red hair as he and Hermione sat together on a snapped wooden bench. The silence was only interrupted by the sounds of bodies huddling together and hearts trying to repair themselves.

Arthur stepped towards Molly, who was failing in her attempt to move George, and ushered her away soothingly. She sat beside Ron and embraced him tightly, silently crying into his shirt. Arthur crouched beside George and placed his warm hand on his,

"It's time to go George," he said shakily. George frowned but never took his eyes away from Fred's face. He'd closed Fred's eyes and smoothed his shirt and now he was holding his ever-cooling hand tightly, never wanting to let go. Arthur took George's hand, letting Fred's slap heavily to the floor, "It's time to go home now," he said.

The rest of the family, including Hermione and Harry, gathered their things and stood in a loose huddle a little way away from the others. Ron didn't want to look at Fred or even George for that matter. It just didn't seem right seeing one without the other and it made his chest hurt just thinking about it. He gripped Hermione's hand tightly and she squeezed it back lovingly. Arthur stood, pulling George with him, and looked at the others,

"I'll apparate back with… the body," his voice broke on the last word. Molly nodded and Ginny whimpered into Harry's shoulder. As Arthur bent down to take his fallen son in his arms George turned to his mother,

"Just his body?" he asked, wide-eyed. Molly frowned and cupped George's cheek in her hand,

"He's taking him back home, sweetie," she whispered.

"I want to go with him!" George suddenly shouted, startling everyone, "I'll go with him!" Tears flowed freely down George's face and Molly opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. Arthur took George by the hand and nodded,

"Okay son." Arthur, George and Fred were suddenly gone, followed soon after by the rest of the battle-sore group.

~ o o O o o ~

Back at the Burrow everyone sat in silence around the wooden kitchen table. Molly busied herself making everyone cups of tea, forgetting to put teabags in on her first attempt. Arthur had made some enquiries about Fred's body and a man named Quentin Moon had told him he would be there to collect 'The Deceased' as soon as possible. Molly handed out the last of the tea and sat down beside her husband, who put a shaking arm around her. She suddenly looked startled,

"What about Bill? And Percy and Charlie? Do they know?" she clapped her hands to her mouth and let out a ragged breath.

"It's alright, they know, everything's done," Arthur comforted her. She took a sip of tea, spilling some on the cracked table, and nodded firmly. Harry sat up a little straighter and looked at his hands on the table,

"I just wanted to say," he swallowed hard and looked around the table, his eyes resting momentarily on George's lost face, "I wanted to say thank you, for everything. You've given so much," his voice wavered and Molly placed her hands on top of his, quieting him,

"Shh, we knew what this battle would bring. None of this was your fault Harry," she smiled weakly and gathered Ron and Hermione's hands together with Harry's, "I'm so proud of you," she looked at Ginny and George, "All of you." A single tear fell from her smiling eyes and she wiped it away quickly. A loud knock on the door made everyone flinch. Everyone but George.

Arthur opened the door to find a tall, thin man in a long, black overcoat standing on the step. His face was pointed and he looked brittle as he held out his hand to Arthur,

"Quentin Moon," he said in a reedy voice.

"Please," Arthur said, barely louder than a whisper, "Come in." Mr. Moon stepped inside, ducking his head through the doorway. He smiled feebly at the group and spoke through yellowed teeth,

"My deepest sympathies." He looked around quickly and turned back to Arthur, "The body?"

"Upstairs," Arthur replied and showed the man into the hallway.

Ron listened as the two men made their way up the rickety staircase towards the twin's room where Arthur had rested Fred's body on his bed. Ron could hear their muffled voices as they spoke to one another and he tried to busy his mind with something else. He looked at George. His older brother looked smaller than usual, thinner somehow. His cheeks looked sunken and his eyes seemed to be loose in their sockets, hanging limply like fused light bulbs. He'd stopped crying but somehow that made it worse; he was just staring at the table now, no echo of emotion anywhere on his face. Ron got up and stepped towards George,

"George," he swallowed hard and continued quietly, "Do you want some tea?" It was a stupid question, he knew that. It was just the first thing that came into his mind. George hadn't touched the cup his mother had handed him and it seemed somewhat important to Ron that he should have some tea. George blinked slowly and looked at his little brother,

"Where did Dad go?" he asked, childlike.

Ron rubbed at his mouth with his palm, "He's upstairs with… That man."

George frowned deeply, "With Fred?"

Ron nodded, "Yeah. They're gonna take him now I think."

"Take him?" George was suddenly on his feet, his hands pulling at his hair, "Now?"

Ron nodded silently and Molly dashed to George's side, her eyes streaming with tears. She grabbed his shoulders and tried to calm him but he shook her off and ran up the stairs, towards his and Fred's room. He barged through the door just as the tall, thin man and Fred disappeared in a whirl of grey smoke. His mouth opened in a silent scream and he dropped to his knees, grabbing at the last of the dissipating smoke.

"He's gone!" he yelled, "He's GONE!" George hung his head in his hands and tears dripped through his fingers onto the floorboards. Arthur tried to put his hand on George's back but he shrugged him off and pointed to the door, "Get out!" Arthur didn't argue, he left the room, and his grieving son, and closed the door quietly behind him.

Hours passed, George didn't know how many. He lay on the floor, in the same spot his father had left him in, with his eyes closed. But he didn't sleep. His good ear was pressed against the cold, wooden floorboards and he could hear muttering downstairs as the rest of the family tried to talk about anything other than Fred. Fred. Just the name made George's throat tighten. He opened his eyes and turned his head towards his twin's bed. It was still unmade from the day they'd left the house. The sheets were askew and one of Fred's shirts was hanging over the edge after being rejected for wear. George got up and knelt beside the bed. He didn't want to disturb it, after all Fred liked it a certain way and whenever George tried to fix it he'd get a right telling off. He took the sleeve of the shirt in his hand and carefully held it to his face without pulling it off the bed. He inhaled but couldn't smell anything. It just smelled like he did.

He sat there for a while, unmoving, and finally decided he should sleep. He gathered himself up, along with Fred's shirt, and walked towards his own bed. He suddenly stopped halfway between his bed and Fred's and stared across the room. A tall, full-length mirror stood between their beds, its plain wooden frame barely holding the glass in place. George's reflection stared back at him like a faint memory. It was him, George, and couldn't have been mistaken for his twin, well not by any Weasley anyway. But George stared at in nonetheless. He dropped the shirt and charged towards the mirror, fists clenched.

"Why?" he shouted at the glass and his reflection mirrored his anger, "You stupid bloody idiot! You left me!" Tears coursed down his reflection's face, making him angrier, "Oh, you're upset? What about me? I'm the one who has to stay here, alone!" He stopped and stared at himself, feeling useless and pathetic. His own face frowned back at him and didn't even try to respond. He balled up his fist and slammed it into the glass, smashing it instantly. Something crunched in his hand and blood smeared the remaining glass but he didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything.

Moments later Molly Weasley bustled into the twins' room. She saw George sitting on his bed cradling his bloody hand and rushed over to him. She took his hand in hers and stroked his knuckles gently,

"Oh Georgie, what have you done?" She looked at the broken mirror and flicked her wand, clearing the broken shards of glass quickly away. George stared at his hand and then looked into his mother's caring eyes,

"He's gone Mum," he whispered through broken breaths, "And he's not coming back is he?" Molly pulled George's face towards her and kissed his head. He cried great, heart-wrenching sobs into his mother's chest and stayed there for most of the night. He didn't want to be alone.

Thank you for reading!

Please review and don't be too depressed! I promise it'll get happier :)