Author's Note: God, I don't know why. I just felt like crying tonight. And so this is what I wrote. I would really appreciate some reviews. My Harry Potter fics never get that much acknowledgement because they're about minor characters I think... If you read this please take a few seconds to leave a review. Maybe you've never left one before. I can't explain to you how meaningful it feels to let someone know what their work means to you. I'm imploring you, Harry Potter fans. Let's keep Rowling's work alive through our spirit and continued dedication. Let me know what you thought. Do you have a favorite quote/moment? Thank you so much.

Sometimes, you just knew. In the spaces, between the breaths and the blinks and the whooshes of chaos, there would be a molecule of calm, and you would know. Something quite like pain, but not so kind, would scrape its way across the mind like stubborn fingernails, gripping to tendrils of memories and half-forgotten promises, slicing through iron strings like butter, leaving hollowness in its wake.

Not pain. George Weasley stood in the middle of a hall full of the putrid knowledge of death, and did not feel pain. The situation was much, much, more dire than a four letter word.

The Great Hall smelled different. There was no familiar waft of breakfast foods, or the cheery light of the enchanted ceiling, showing the bright sun of the day. There was no happy clamor of people eating, forks clicking, platters being passed along. The room felt foreign to George, as he scrambled his way through the rows of people lying down upon the floor.

He didn't think he could refer to them as corpses. It didn't feel right – too impersonal. He had only just arrived, and had already been assaulted with images that would brand the soft part of his eyelids for the rest of however long he had left in this world. The fighting was still swirling around him like a sharp winter windstorm. Curses flew from every which way, but George felt something like a bubble surround him, and knew instinctively that the universe was giving him a few seconds to catch his breath.

What he failed to realize in that moment was that this brief reprieve was the prologue to the worst moment of his life.

A few heart-wrenching minutes before, he had ran away from his family – his father had darted one way and Bill had scurried another… people were breaking up like a rock, thrown against a cliff-side, chips shattering every-which-way, until George could hardly remember which pieces of the rocks to watch out for. It had been just a few words and a significant glance that held his focus in that moment – Fred, preparing to sprint off with Percy, had grabbed his shoulder hard enough to hurt.

"Meet in the Great Hall," he said, his voice harsh with the strain of the battle to come. "I'll see you there."

A promise that George felt to his very core. They didn't separate, the Weasley twins. It wasn't how they operated. Memories swirled in George's brain as he stood in the promised meeting spot, looking around fleetingly for a glimpse of copper hair.

The Triwizard Tournament – it had never occurred to George that even if he had been allowed to compete, he couldn't have done so in a pair. Fred and George. They didn't fight alone.

Ginny, presumably dead – hellish fire, hopeless tears. But Fred was there. At least he had Fred. And he could hope that someone else would be brave enough to help his little sister. After all, they weren't finished with her. Ginny had so much more to learn before she was done being molded in their image.

The boggart, 5th Year – Fred was standing right behind him, eager to take his turn. And then, Fred was on the floor in front of him, blood dripping out of his mouth, unseeing and blank. No. It had taken Fred's gripping his shoulder and yelling very loudly in his ear to realize what was happening. His worst fear, but it wasn't true. It never would be.

Ron Weasley, poisoned – it seemed now that Harry had saved half of the Weasley lives, but George had seldom felt more helpless than he did at seeing his little brother lying in the hospital wing. Why was everything crumbling apart? How were they supposed to keep a smile on their faces? Why did the world expect them to?

Earless – That look on Fred's face of abject terror. George is hurt. George is earless. George almost died. But they were okay. They were together. Nothing was going to happen, ever again.

George stood transfixed, staring at the bodies around him, lined up in rows. More would be added to their ranks, he was sure. For now, he felt the tiniest bit guilty that no one he loved was lying in this hall right now, never to rise again, and he was grateful for it. For now, he could still breathe enough to worry that it would soon be changing.

First, he saw his mother. With some sort of strangled cry, she tore across the room, down the aisles between the fallen warriors, and scooped him into her arms. George hugged her back just as fiercely. They had barely released each other when Arthur came bustling in, Charlie and Bill flanking him.

Mrs. Weasley gave them all tired hugs and glanced around, keeping her a hand on George's shoulder and another wrapped firmly around the collar of Bill's shirt. "What have you learned?" She asked frantically. "Where are the others?"

Mr. Weasley looked so solemn that for a moment George's heart leapt right into his throat. Who? His brain fired off the possibilities. Ginny? Ron? Percy? Or what about the others? Not… not Hermione. Not Harry. Somehow, George didn't allow himself to imagine it could be Fred.

"Lupin. He's gone."

And again, George was disgusted by himself for the relief he felt at this. A second later came the first real sense of crushing sadness. Mrs. Weasley released Bill and George and flung herself at Arthur. Her tears were fresh and George felt a few course down his own cheeks. Remus Lupin had been the bravest… the best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, certainly. But George only let part of himself register the grief. He was watching the Hall with a growing pit lining his stomach. Where were the others?

As if in answer, a loud shout pierced the air near the entrance to the Hall. It was Ron, followed closely by Ginny, Hermione, and Percy. Mrs. Weasley muttered a grateful "Oh, thank goodness," and pulled them all into her arms. A round of relieved hugs followed. George grabbed Ron hard around the back, buried his face into Ginny's hair in relief, and pulled Hermione into his side, staring down at her for signs of injury. All of the newcomers seemed slightly ragged, and Percy looked as if he were about to collapse. But they stood together, a band of warriors still standing.

"Fred," Arthur said quickly, as if just now realizing who was missing. "Any sign of him, Ron?"

And Ron paled, his face ashen and tear-soaked. Percy let out an involuntary gasp. Mrs. Weasley stared anxiously at them. Hermione whimpered. Arthur closed his eyes. And still, George Weasley refused to believe.

He didn't look much like himself anymore. Fred was always talking, or smiling, or watching or laughing. He wasn't still. Even in sleep, the young man could snore along with the best of them.

George found himself sitting on the floor of the great hall, near the head of his twin brother. He couldn't exactly recall the act of lowering to the ground, but somewhere distantly he realized his knees were aching from sudden compact with the hard floor. His mum was sobbing freely and his dad was ashen-faced with shock. Bill had his mother's hand gripped in his own and the other arm tight around Ron's shoulder. Ginny's face was pressed into Fred's chest.

Fred was Dead.

No… no. That couldn't be right. Because George was still breathing. George was still breathing and his mind was still working and he was still alive. That didn't make sense. Fred couldn't be… He couldn't.

"Where's Harry?" he asked. Several pairs of eyes swung around to stare at him. George realized he was the only dry-faced person here. Everyone else had tear-tracks running down their cheeks.

"George…" Charlie finally ventured. He put a hand on his shoulder but George shrugged it off.

"No. No, look. We can't do anything else for – we can't. I'm just… we can still help Harry. Ron? Hermione? Where's he gone?"

Harry's two best friends shared an uneasy glance. "I'm not – he's going to meet us here," Hermione finally said uneasily. "I think. Maybe I'd better…"

"I'll come with you," Ron said hurriedly.

"No. You have to stay with your family, Ron," Hermione said. George watched the silent battle between the two of them with intense interest. A part of his mind informed him that he was just blocking out the real issue, but he shut it up quickly and watched as Ron pulled away from the family and went to Hermione, pulling her into a fierce kiss.

"Don't you dare get yourself into trouble," he demanded. Hermione made this solemn promise and darted off.

George felt himself smiling. "Well it's about damn time, you two!"

Ron looked at him, his eyes wide. "What?"

"George!" It was Ginny that spoke. "Just stop it, okay? Just stop it!" She started crying again in earnest. "Fred is gone. Stop acting like you haven't noticed!"

"Oy, Ginny, don't," Bill said softly. It was too late, though.

George's eyes snapped to the face on the floor. His face. His own face. Not a mirror. Too still. Fred. His twin brother – his twin brother –

Why was the world shaking? Or was that just George himself? Were people talking? Someone's hand on his shoulder. Now he was on his feet. No. No no no no no because if he denied it enough then it would work. Fred would jump up and clap him on the shoulder.

"He said we'd meet in the Great Hall," a voice said. George said. Was that him? Had he spoken? "He promised! He said he'd see me… He said he… He can't see me. His eyes are closed."

"Oh, Georgie…" his mum was there.

"No. No! How? Percy? Ron? How did this happen?"

But then they were speaking and he forgot to listen because someone was removing his insides with a very dull knife and it was taking such a very long time and why was he still alive? How was his heart still beating because Fred was dead and they didn't do anything alone. They didn't do death alone and they certainly didn't do life.

He must have passed out. Or forgotten to let the rest of the world matter. The next thing he knew was that Hagrid and the Death Eaters were approaching, and Harry Potter was dead.

It was a distraction, at least. Harry being dead and all that. It didn't really feel like much of anything though. No, he had lost the ability. He'd reached the maximum capacity for pain – no, not pain, not even agony – just… the maximum capacity for being a human person. They felt emotions. He was done with that.

He fought off Death Eaters like a robot and watched as the most terrible wizard of all time was brought down by his own curse. And after that he was never alone. Not for a second because perhaps they all saw it in him – he was done. Dead, basically. Not quite the same as the Dead that was his twin brother, but just as real, certainly. First it was his mum and then Ginny and then Ron and never Percy because Percy couldn't stop shaking long enough to stay in one place.

He ended up in the Burrow but he couldn't remember how. He waited until they slept. Harry and Hermione were upstairs and they were both in Ron's room – they had pushed two of the beds together and were all lying tangled up on them because the thought of being without one another at this moment was too absurd for words. Ginny was curled in a ball at the end of Bill's bed. Percy was on the floor of his bedroom because the comfort of a mattress was agony. Molly was crying in her sleep and Arthur was as rigid as a board as his face looked towards the ceiling. Charlie was in the kitchen, his head on the table. Light snores that almost sounded like Fred's –

No.

He knew all of this because he looked at them all one last time before he left the house. He had no plans of returning, but that wasn't saying much.

He never made plans on his own.

Two years later, the lights above Weasley's Wizard's Wheezes slowly turned on, one by one. His first customer was Hermione Granger, who walked up to the counter and smiled at him without saying a word. George smiled back with lips that had almost forgotten how. She turned and left and returned with everyone.

It sort of hurt to see them but mostly it was wonderful. A stampede of hugs and tears and Percy was the very worst because he had taken one look at George and broken down in the middle of the stop. Somehow they had all forgotten just how identical they were.

"I'm keeping it open because he'd want that," George said suddenly and they all stopped talking so quickly it was like hitting a mute button on the world. "Fred would want that, don't you think?"

Ginny had grabbed one of his hands and Hermione had grabbed the other. Harry walked over to the nearest counter and pulled a box of Skiving Snackboxes from the shelf.

"I have a feeling some of this stuff has expired by now, George." They all laughed and it hurt so beautifully.

"Nah. It'll just magnify the effects by – Hm. Now that you mention it maybe I'd better toss those. Don't want people running around with unstoppable nose-bleeds or anything, do I?"

"You could use them on the Death Eaters if we hadn't captured them all already," Ginny said, and her and Ron did a high five.

"Things are good," George said. It wasn't a question or a suggestion.

It was a fact, and when George glanced at his reflection in the glass window to the shop he saw Fred nod his head in agreement.

Things are good.

Author's Note: Not so sure about the ending, but I like to think that George eventually moved on with his life, even though Fred will always be with him, in a way. What do you think? I'd be happy to read reviews even if they are just to talk about Harry Potter in general, not even just my story!