Arthur watched his son as he stared blankly into space. The boy was lost, utterly lost, and he completely understood. The loss of Fred had hit them all hard, but George had had his other half ripped cruelly away from him.
Molly had tried talking to him; consoling him, but it was no good. She was too emotional. George needed something to shake him out if it. As difficult as it would be, he needed to carry on with the rest of his life. Arthur knew that the rest of the family weren't only mourning the loss of Fred. They were mouring for George, too. It killed him to see them all in so much pain. The war was over, Percy had returned and Bill and Fleur could finally celebrate their marriage without fear. This should be the happiest time of their lives.
He squeezed his son's shoulders, a wordless gesture that had become common as of late. Pulling up a chair, he sat next to him, not saying a word at first. Partly because he wanted to gain his confidence, partly because he hadn't planned this very well and he had no idea what he was going to say.
"George, I…"
"I know, Dad."
"Well…"
"I know. You're sorry. Everyone's sorry. I know."
Arthur stared at his son blankly. He was unsure how to take his tone. He had only ever known the twins to be happy-go-lucky, cracking jokes whether it was appropriate or not.
"I'm sorry, too, Dad. I know I've been a royal ass to be around. But it's hard to function when the better part of you is gone." His voice broke on the last word. He was clearly still struggling with the idea that his twin was never coming back.
He swallowed, hard. "I was thinking. I want to open the shop. I'm going to ask Ron to help out, it's not like he's got anything better to do. He doesn't even have to chase Hermione any more." Something of a smile crossed his face, becoming more genuine when he saw how pleased his dad looked.
"That's a great idea, son. Ron will like that."
Arthur stood, and bent over his son, patting him on the back in a casual manner. George wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in his chest. Heart broken and relieved all at once, a single tear rolled down each of Arthur's cheeks; one for each of his twin sons. His lost boys.
