Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. If I did, you can bet your life that Fred would never have gotten so much as a scratch during the war.

Author's Note: *grabs tissue to wipe eyes* Read at your own risk of heartbreak. This was written for the Grammar School Challenge for IWSC, Round 8. Focus was semi-colons. Enjoy! Please please review! They mean a lot to me. Love you guys. Thank you for all your support. Okay, peace out. :)

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Harry walked over to George. He had just entered the Great Hall, which was laden with the deceased. Harry tried to avert his gaze, but he couldn't; Colin, Remus, Tonks, and so many others lay before him.

Even Snape's body was in the Hall; earlier, he had approached Professor McGonagall, asking her to send someone to retrieve Snape's body. She was aghast at Harry's request, but Harry affirmed her that he had a good reason. She was hesitant, but finally sent someone to retrieve Snape and had them place his body in a corner of the Hall. Harry said that he would explain everything to her about Snape and the Horcruxes in time, but at that moment, he needed to be with his family.

As he approached George, who was still kneeling at his twin's limp form, he faltered. Fred. His death. It was all Harry's fault; Fred would be alive if not for him. But, as if he was sensing Harry's thoughts, George stood and walked over to him.

"Harry," George croaked. "Good – good job for defeating Voldemort."

"George, I – I'm so sorry," Harry replied, looking at his feet.

"Don't be," George replied. "It wasn't your fault. If not for you, a lot more people would probably be – well –" George broke off as his voice caught in his throat.

Harry didn't reply. He just merely stood there, feeling the tears well up inside him again.

"Thank you," he said at last.

"For what?" George asked.

"For giving me a family." Harry looked up. You and Fred were like brothers to me. I wish I could've – could've told him that."

"He knew," George said simply. "We both know." They hugged; their tears dripped down their cheeks. After a moment, they broke apart and Harry walked over to Fred's body.

He fell down next to him and began to silently shudder. He heard someone sit down next to him and looked. George sat on one side, while Mrs. Weasley sat on the other.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said thickly, looking at her.

"I know, dear," Mrs. Weasley replied. "But don't be. If not for you, none of us may have lived."

"I should've been able to save him."

"Now you listen to me, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, running her hand through Harry's hair. "Fred d-died fighting and laughing. He's p-probably up there laughing right now about our silly tears." She gave a watery chuckle

Harry smiled slightly. He probably was. He looked back to Fred's body. There was a flicker of a smile left on his face, and, though it was caked with dust, his hair still burned red.

"I'll miss him," Harry said. He felt Mrs. Weasley's arm go around his shoulder and pull him in slightly. At that moment, Harry felt like a small child being comforted, but he found that he didn't care. He let himself lean into Mrs. Weasley's motherly embrace. She ran her hand through his hair, as though he were her own son.

"I know you will, dear," she replied. "But we'll help each other through this. We always will. We're a family."

The rest of the Weasleys, including Hermione, had once again gathered around Fred. They looked at him sadly, all of them with tears sliding silently down their faces.

They would get through this, Harry thought, looking at his fallen brother. They were a family.