Disclaimer:I don't own Harry Potter

A/N: K, I'm devestated Fred died. It sucks. I mean... argh!! No!! Anyway... there's going to be a billion fics on this, but I had to write one just... because... I'm still sad.

There was loss around them. It filled the air. It was there in every breath. In every step. Loss.

Death.

It loomed over them. It was amongst them. He had to get out. He couldn't stay.

Nothing felt right. Nothing felt real. How could it be? How could this be real? In their nineteen years as best friends and brothers they'd never once spoken about this. He'd never been able to contemplate the thought in his mind. He was sure his brother was the same. Yet now it had happened. He wasn't pre-pared. He wasn't ready. But then how could he have been?

Dead.

He was just that. Fred Weasly. Dead.

George couldn't remember what had happened. How the battle ended. He didn't remember the celebrations, the cheering. All that stood vividly in his mind from that night was staring down at his brother's pale face. Reaching out and feeling how cold it was. Realising he could never speak to his brother again. Never make jokes. They would never run their business together.

Then there was the funeral. Crowds gathered to pay their respect, but he didn't want them there. Why were they there? Why had they come? They didn't know Fred. Only he knew Fred. He had no memory other than that of that day. George might as well have been the walking corpse of his brother. He didn't speak, didn't cry. He stared blankly at the coffin; unable to bring himself to think of what lay inside.

Weeks had passed, possibly months. He couldn't remember. Others had tried to be sympathetic. But he didn't want their sympathy. Had any of them lost their twin brother? No one understood how he felt. No one understood the agonising pain in his chest. No one understood that it was like a part of himself had died.

He didn't know what day it was, but his younger sister knocked on the door. He let her open it.

"George?"

He slowly looked at her. Tears streaked her face; her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Wordlessly, he patted the space on the bed next to him.

She didn't take her eyes of him as she sat down. "I want my brother back."

He didn't know what to say. He wanted his brother back too.

"He's dead Ginny." The words came out harsh and brutal. "Dead. Gone. There's nothing you can do."

She hugged him and cried harder. "No." She sobbed. "No."

He made no attempt to comfort her, no attempt to ease her pain. There was no one there for him, why should he be there for anyone else?

"Yes." He said. "Yes he is."

"No." He felt her shaking her head. "I want you back, George." She looked up at him, straight in the eye. "You need to live again. I want to see you smile. See you laughing again. The house isn't the same without explosions coming from your room. Instead of losing one brother, we've lost two."

She didn't understand. She didn't know what it felt like. But he let her continue.

"Mum's been worried sick about you. She hasn't been the same. This family hasn't been the same. Yes, there's a hole in this family, one that can never be filled. We wont forget him, ever. How could we? But it's you who has to bring this family together again. Remember how many times you and Fred pretended to be each other. Remember how often you were almost seen as one person rather than two?"

George found himself slowly nodding.

"He can live on with you, in you. Only first you have to live on."

The youngest Weasly stood up, wiped her eyes and left, leaving George once again alone.

That night, once everyone had fallen asleep he apparated. Before him were tombstones, hundreds of them. But he was only interested in one. As he reached it, tears he had been holding in for months finally came out. He left himself cry for the first time since he first laid eyes on his brother's dead body. The words on the headstone quickly blurred.

Frederick Weasly

1978-1997

Beloved brother, friend and prankster

He was there for hours. It wasn't until dawn began to break that George finally ran out of tears. Staring at the grave, as if he was looking at his brother he spoke.

"I'll do it." His voice was hoarse, from having barely used it. "I know you'd want me to. So… I'm going to do it. You're not dead. Simply… moved far away. Thanks for always being there for me."

He walked away. Knowing things would change. His family would be strong again. Starting that morning. He'd slip Ron a Canary Cream. He was now sure. Everything would be all right.