George stared out of the window. It was a bright afternoon and he could see the last of his customers trailing out of the shop from his position in his flat. He didn't' want to keep the shop open. In fact he didn't want to do anything but sit in Fred's chair and blame himself for what happened.
But the shop was the product of Fred and his dreams. It was the last thing he could do for Fred – no matter how much it hurt.
George looked at his watch and sighed. It was time for a Weasley dinner.
He dragged his feet out the door and locked it with a small silver key. He went downstairs and did the same with the shop with the addition of shooing Verity out the door.
Seeing Verity caused a fresh wave of guilt and misery. Two months ago, he was still happily living life, scorning You-Know-Who – despite the war, creating new products, interacting with customers – and most importantly, with Fred.
It's been a month since the funeral (he absolutely forbade himself from thinking of saying his funeral). He hasn't shaved in weeks, stubble growing into fuzz, or slept for more than three hours at a time. But most frighteningly of all, he had this hollow, haunted look in his eyes.
The unshaven redhead pushed the thoughts of guilt away and focused on Apparating to the Burrow. He landed next to the chicken, which squawked excitedly around his feet, and moved towards the wobbly house.
When he walked into the house, it was bustling with activity.
"Good, you're here," his mother said, walking past with a large stuffed chicken.
George remembered with a pang that Fred loved chicken. He got excited and would start eating the chicken before dinner and Mum would always get angry.
It pained to think of it in a past tense.
He sat down blindly and watched the rest of the family settle around him. There was small talk about cleaning up after the war, the Muggle girl who nearly saw Ron on a broomstick, what the Lovegoods were up to and other random chat.
Mrs Weasley scooped out a large bit of quiche and put it on George's plate.
"Here, George, your favourite quiche," she said, beaming at her son.
George looked up and whispered, "No. Fred was the one who liked it."
An uncomfortable silence settled over the table. It stayed like that for what felt like a long time until Ginny stood up.
Harry, who sat next to her with an arm still on her chair, shot her a warning glance. Mrs Weasley made movements with her hands, motioning her to sit down, mouthing 'Now's not the time' frantically at her.
"No," she said firmly, being the stubborn girl she was, "Now is the time."
Mr Weasley slumped back in his chair, casting a worried look over his family. Mrs Weasley pursed her lips, but didn't say anything, as she agreed with Ginny.
"This has been carrying on for too long. It's been a month, George. It's time to get over it and get one with your life! This month would end, and the next month would come with you still moaning about life. We all have accepted that things would never go back the way it was. I know he was your twin, your closest friend, but he was close to us too! Moping isn't the way to go. Fred wouldn't have wanted that! Not the unshaven, moping, sleep-deprived idiot in front of us now!"
The whole table waited with baited breath, with Ginny heaving slights after her rant, waiting for George to yell back – like the old times.
But George only whispered, with the barest moving of his lips, "You don't know how it feels."
This seemed to only make Ginny madder.
"No, we do George! You aren't the only Weasley here! We're all sad – no, miserable – that he died! We didn't want that to happen! Wouldn't we all give anything for him to be alive, sitting at this table right now? Don't we all feel as though something has been ripped away from us? But we're not letting it tear us apart! George Weasley, get a grip on your life and find the George that we used to have! We've already lost Fred – we don't want to lose you too!"
The whole table sat in a shocked silence as George slowly stood up.
"Thanks Mum, that was a great meal," with a small smile directed at his mother, he left without another word.
Ginny slowly sat back down in her chair, sobs racking her whole body. Harry put a comforting arm around her, while the rest of the table just sat there in shock and disbelief.
Little did they know, as George strode out on the house and out into the paddocks, tears were silently streaming down his face too.
A/N: The days after the Battle of Hogwarts must have been so hard for the Weasley family. Please review and let me know what you think!
~ MagicalMangoes