I miss you.
As he knelt at the foot of his brother's grave, George Weasley did not try to hide the fact that he was crying. He simply sat there, face stony as he remembered everything they had done together, and let the tears run down his face in a torrent of anguish and despair.
I need you.
He remembered the first time they had ever been separated, when Mum had had to go to Diagon Alley, and Fred had been sick. George had still wanted to go to Diagon Alley, so he left his brother. Now he wished he hadn't. He realized now that he should have spent as much time as possible with his brother...his other half...the other half that was no longer there with him, torn away by soulless and faceless murder.
How can I...?
He didn't know how he could hope to go on. He thought of Angelina, of their son and daughter. This would be their first year at Hogwarts. They were his anchor. He would never let anything happen to them; He would protect them with everything he had. They would never know the pain of losing a twin, even if it meant killing himself. He would not let anything happen.
Come back...
"Fred, I know you probably can't hear me, but I want you to know that I love you, I will always love you. I miss you so much and everyday I wake up and I feel myself automatically pulled towards our old room, and I have to stop myself from running in there with Dung bombs or our brooms, because I know you won't- you...can't be...there. I'm...sorry, so sorry that I didn't protect you. Fred, please I don't know how I can go on without you- I-" and he collapsed in heaving sobs. He sat there for at least twenty minutes, letting the tears cleanse his body of all salt, until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Angelina, Harry, Hermione, and Ron, carrying a rather large painting of Sirius Black. Angelina set down the small leather bag she was carrying, tapped it twice with her wand and watched as it expanded to the size of a small tree. "Ang, what're you-" George was cut off as she pulled off the leather bag to reveal a magnificently detailed portrait of-
"Fred!" George cried, jumping up and quickly rubbing his face with his sleeve.
"Did I see you crying, brother?" asked Fred, who was seemingly unable to stop smiling.
"Psh, no, of course not- I was just...yes. Yes, I was crying, Fred. I missed you so much!" said George, who was now crying and laughing uncontrollably, his face shining. Suddenly, he scooped up Fred- or rather, his painting. "Let's go home; I'm cooking tonight!" George called.
The group groaned, even Fred and Sirius, who knew their gag reflexes would be thoroughly tested simply by the sight of George's, er... "cooking".