Ch. 1 Reactions:

Harry and Hermione:

The battle was over. Amidst all the cheering in the Great Hall, Harry felt empty; his insides ripped out. Rather than celebrating his victory, Harry felt lost- so many people he knew and loved had died. He looked over at the Weasley family, gathered together. Mrs. Weasley held a crying Ginny in her arms, Bill was holding a pale-faced George, and the other family members were gathered around trying to make sense of what had just happened, how one of their own could have succumbed to death.

Harry felt his eyes start to burn as a huge lump entered his throat. Hermione slipped in the seat beside him, noticing him after comforting Ron. She took his hand and squeezed it, as Harry rested his head on her shoulder, unable to find words.

"I'm so glad you're alright," Hermione said to him. "If you had died, I don't know what I would have done."

Harry faced his best friend. He gestured to the Weasley's. "This is all my fault," he murmured to her, his voice almost inaudible.

"Its not," Hermione said firmly. "Fred chose to fight. He chose to because you were family to him, and he wanted to defeat Voldemort. He knew what could happen."
Harry's eyes blurred, as he frantically tried to keep the tears from falling. It was no use. "It just hurts so much right now."

Hermione took him into her arms, tears starting to form in her eyes too. "I know it does," she whispered, pulling him close. "I know."

After what seemed like minutes, Mrs. Weasley approached her children. She kissed Harry's cheek and pulled him in for a hug. "I'm so glad you're safe, Harry dear," she said, her voice cracking a little.

"Mrs. Weasley, I'm so sorry-" Harry began, before Mrs. Weasley shushed him.

"Nonsense. I don't want to hear those words again," she scolded. "It's not your fault, Harry. Fred wouldn't want you to feel that way either. Come on now," she said to the two, "it's time to go home. Hermione, did you want to come?"

Hermione nodded. "I can wait a bit longer to see my parents," she said.

As Harry and Hermione approached the table, the Weasley's made room for them. Harry reached for Ginny's hand across the table, and squeezed it. She tried to smile and put on a brave face, but was failing miserably. cleared his throat. "Let's go back to the Burrow, shall we?"

Ginny:

Ginny had never felt so cold, so alone, so... sad in her life. Her life had been full of laughter while in the Weasley household, and she could imagine, from the scene that had just happened in front of her, that laughter was not going to be heard in her house for a very long time. How could it? Fred was gone.. dead.. he wouldn't come back ever again. Her throat got very tight as she struggled not to burst into tears again. Ginny knew she wasn't supposed to have favourite siblings; and she loved them all equally, but there was something special between the twins and her. She had inhereted her love of jokes from them, and they were always very tender and loving towards her- even a little protective.

To never hear Fred's laugh again, or feel his warm hugs, which he loved to give, or teach her how to improve her Quiddich tecnnique, were thoughts Ginny could barely think of.

She saw Ron talking with Hermione and Harry, and scooted over to George, taking his shaking hand in hers.

She pulled her brother into a hug. "We'll get through this, okay, George? I love you so much."

He nodded, sniffling. "Love you, Gin."

They remained hand-in-hand as they landed in the Burrow, as the rest of the family appeared.

How strange it felt to be in their house, when so much had changed within hours. Hours ago they were fighting against the Dark Forces, and now, in the safety of their living room, Ginny didn't know how to feel. Looking around, she could sense other people didn't know how to feel either. She sighed. It was going to be a long road.

George:

"I'm going up to my room," George announced, after they had stood in the living room without speaking.

"Darling, don't you think you should stay?" asked, her eyes still red.

It was too late. George had taken off. Ginny looked at the stairs with a stricken expression, as Hermione went over to her, rubbing her shoulder.

"It's okay," she said softly.

Ginny shook her head. "It's not okay," she answered back, tears streaming down her face. "It will never be okay again."

Back in his room, George lay on his bed, wondering why he chose their room to escape. Everywhere in their bedroom had a reference to Fred- pictures, trinkets from the shop, things like that. Face it, he said to himself, it was never "just Fred" or "just George"- it was always "Fred and George." They wouldn't have had it any other way. He curled up in his bed and faced the wall, where he didn't have to look at anything. "Damn it," he cursed. "Damnit, Fred."

He had never felt a grief as strong as this- sure, he had known people that had died, but this was so different. He was feeling so much it was like he wasn't feeling anything at all. Immense shock and disbelief.

He heard a knock on his door. "Go away," he said loudly. The knock came again. "Please, just go."

The footsteps disappeared, and George finally let himself cry.