George sat in his room waiting for his mom to come get him.
"Are you ready?" Molly Weasley asked through her tears. George just nodded and got up. As Molly watched her son walk out she knew he would never be ready, none of them would. It wasn't right that they had to go to their brother's funeral, that she had to go to her sons.
The whole family was waiting downstairs for George and Molly. When George walked into the kitchen, everyone looked away. No one had been able to look at him since the battle. He looked too much like Fred; he was a constant reminder of what they had lost. George didn't blame them; he couldn't even look at himself. He had destroyed all the mirrors in the house as soon as he got home. He didn't even spare his family a glance, he couldn't take the pain he knew he would see there, the worry he would see for him. He knew they were constantly worrying about him. This was the first time he had left his room since he came home. But could they really blame him? He had lost his brother. He didn't know who he was without him. They were Fred and George, Gred and Forge. And now he was just George. It sounded all wrong, the "and Fred" naturally rolled off people's tongues.
He apparated to the graveyard and looked around. It was beautiful day, the sun was shining and the sky was a clear blue. He looked around at the brightly colored flowers and the somber people. When his eyes landed on Fred's coffin, he couldn't help but wish it was him in there. He thought of Fred, pale and cold, his dead eyes staring into the distance. Why couldn't I have died! you were always so much stronger than me Fred. it should have been me! He knew he wasn't the only one who thought this. Everyone who knew them had considered Fred to be the strong one, the brave one, the leader. And they were right. He felt the guilt course through him for the hundredth time. Maybe if he had been brave enough to take that side of the castle, to take the most dangerous side, Fred would still be alive. But he hadn't been brave, he had been weak and afraid, so Fred had taken charge. The longer he stared at the coffin, the more guilt he felt. Suddenly the guilt was consuming him and he couldn't take it anymore. He had to get out of there, he had to leave before he broke down. George left without a backward glance, he couldn't face this. He couldn't watch his brother's coffin get lowered into the ground, not when it was his fault he was there. He wouldn't.