Chapter One

George could barely breath, his brother was dead. His twin was dead. His family was crowded around his dead brothers body, all crying, all beginning the mourning procces.

"I should have done something." He caught himself saying.

Molly Weasleys head whipped around to look at him, her body shaking, tears in her eyes and streaming down her face. Her face changed, for just a second, like it was Fred she was looking at, but then she remembered, he wasn't Fred, he was the other one. Arthurs arm came up to her shoulder and squeezed it lighly, he knew what this was doing to his wife, it was doing the exact same to him. But neither parents could begin to imagine what pain George was going through.

Georges hair was a mess, sticking in all directions and full of dust and tiny pieces of rubble from fighting in the battle. His eyes were unable to look up, so he foused them on his feet, the ground, anywhere but his mothers eyes. George turned on his heels and walked away, he couldn't bear the pain in his mothers face that appeared just by looking at him.

"George!" Ginny screamed, she cought up to him and grabbed his arm, he could hear the pain in her voice. "Where are you going?"

"I need some air." He answered briefly, tugging his arm sharply and walking away. The rest of the Weasley family watch him leave, not knowing of anything they could do to help him.

Six Months Later

George was at the burrow, his mother insisted he came. The whole family was going to be there, Arthur, Molly, Percy, Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and of course, Harry. He was sat at the kitchen table, his head in the palms of his hands and leaning in his elbows. Since the battle, George hated gatherings, especially with his family, not that he disliked them, that wasn't the case at all. He hated gatherings because everytime something he saw or did or something someone said reminded him of Fred, and it was unbareable. The others seemed to almost be back to normal, living their lives and enjoying themselves. Geroge on the other hand, was a completely different story, he spent his time either at the shop serving customers or in the apartment above the shop. He would spend his evenings and weekends, sitting in a comfortable chair and drinking himself until he slept. He wss a mess, he knew it, and so did everyone else, nut he knew of no other way of dealing with his pain, his anger, his sorrow, and his guilt.

"George, you in here?" Charlie said as he rounded the courner.

"MmmHmm." He mumbled.

"Come on, everyone is outside." Charlie encouraged, with little response. He began to leave and head back to the others when Geroge rose suddenly.

"I think I'm going to head home." He said barely above a whisper.

"Oh, come on, all you've done is sit in here on your own, and you've barely been here an hour." Charlie said, knowing it would make little difference to his decision.

"I'm just not in the mood, I'll see everyone some other time." Geroge walked to the fireplace, picked a handfull of the floo powder and spoke his words. In no time at all, he was in his apartment above the shop, as lonely as he had been everyother night.

At the Burrow

Charlie walked outside and into the garden where his entire family was sat, minus one. As he approached the group, his mother looked up at him. Charlie shook his head, indicating that George wouln't be joining them.

"He didn't feel up to it." He said, taking his seat on the grass along with everyone else.

Authors Note- Im sorry this is quite short, it's my first stroy and i hope you liked it. Please review, i appreciate any comments, even criticism. I'm going to continue this story, I'm not sure what into yet, but any suggestions, please dont hesitate to say something.