The last time George Weasley celebrated a birthday was April 1st, 1998. It wasn't due to lack of trying; the first two years his family had gotten a cake and tried to pretend it was alright. Nothing was alright. With Fred gone, George wasn't whole, and nobody seemed to understand that. He knew one person that would have. The first year, Molly Weasley had sent him an invitation to celebrate. She knew he shouldn't be alone for that first birthday. He responded with an owl, one simple sentence: I can't blow out the candles alone.

He was truly alone for the first time in his life and solitude did not suit him well.

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' products had never been more in demand with the end of the war. People had cause now more than ever to celebrate, but George could only watch from their storerooms as Verity ran the show and proved herself to be an excellent employee. How could he try to invent jokes for a living when he was trapped in a nightmare? Any time he felt something similar to joy he shut it down; convinced he couldn't feel happiness with such a big part of himself missing.

One day, Angelina Johnson poked her head into the back rooms. Upon seeing George sitting, facing the wall, void of all emotion, something inside her snapped.

"Damn it, George," she shouted, voice charged, "you can't go ON like this! It's not what he would have wanted! I already lost Fred, I can't—I can't watch you die in front of my eyes, too…"

If it had been anyone else that spoke to him that way, George would've killed them with his bare hands. This wasn't just anyone, though. For this very reason, George turned to face her, unsure of what he was going to say, until he noticed the silent sobs that shook her whole body. Without even thinking, he ran across the room to her and crushed her in his arms. He held her for a long time, tears of his own leaking from his eyes, as Angelina cried too. That was when he realized, things weren't perfect, but they never would be.

For Fred to live on in his memory, George couldn't stop living.

So, he held Angelina close in the storeroom, and they both cried, for Fred and themselves. It was in that moment when, finally, George began to heal.

He sent a letter to his mom for the first time in two years. Nothing complex, just asking her how things had been going, but his mother saw it for what it was: an attempt to move on. He visited the Burrow for the first time in too long shortly after and greeted his family with a tired smile. No one mentioned what they were all thinking and he was thankful for that. It took him three visits to finally gather the courage to glance at the famous Weasley clock to see where his brother's hand had landed. George was certain seeing it stuck permanently on the word Home would be the most bittersweet moment of his entire life.

Ron tired quickly of his duties as an Auror, at least that's the story he spread, and so he asked George if he'd be interested in help at the joke shop. Although no one could replace Fred, George found having his brother beside him made work fun again. So, he learned to laugh again, even though it wasn't always easy, and business boomed more than ever. He made it his mission to bring to life every idea Fred and him had had. For the first time, in a long time, George found himself thinking things were going to be okay.

Additionally, George began to see a therapist and fought through his demons; faced his struggle to be alone. It was here that George finally found himself as a single unit instead of in terms of a partner, and he couldn't say that he was glad, but it felt as if a weight had been lifted from his chest. Angelina helped, too, and he knew he could never repay her for helping him put his life back together. So on August 14th, when he vowed to spend the rest of his life trying, she accepted both his words and the engagement ring with teary eyes. George felt like life had meaning again.

The wedding was a splendid affair, full of laughter, love, and one empty chair reserved in the front row. Even though there was no best man stated, everyone knew who it was, and when Ron made a toast and requested a moment of silence for those unable to attend, everyone knew who it was about. It was continued proof that even though Fred was not alive, so many people continued to live for him. And that was enough. George and Angelina's first dance was beautiful and they danced the night away surrounded by friends and family and one empty chair that watched from afar.

When, two years later, Angelina nervously revealed her pregnancy to George, he picked her up and spun her around as tears of joy leaked from his eyes. George couldn't remember the last time he cried from pure joy. Announcing it to his family and friends yielded similar results, and they both anxiously awaited the arrival of their new bundle of joy. Nine months later, a healthy baby boy entered their lives. Angelina, exhausted from the ordeal, didn't even need to consult her husband on the name of their newborn. She knew, without either of them saying it, that the decision had been made long ago.

The next chapter in their lives began as quickly as their childless one had ended. Fred, the second, turned their lives upside down from the minute they brought him home. Looking like a younger, happier version of George, Fred II lived up to his namesake. All too soon he was crawling, then walking, then running as fast as his chubby little legs would carry him. George and Angelina gave him the world and spoiled him beyond compare. His grandparents, and numerous aunts and uncles, spoiled him, too. When Fred II's first word was "boom!", no one was even slightly surprised.

Fred II continued to grow like a weed and learned anything and everything he could about the art of pranking. George didn't speak of Fred often, except for when he detailed his and Fred's more elaborate pranks. He couldn't help but boast about his brother, even though those conversations often ended with George having a pit in the bottom of his stomach for hours. On these days, him and Angelina would lay in bed together long after their son was asleep. They would hold on to each other tight, not needing words, and fall asleep feeling less alone.

They continued like this for a few years, until one rainy March day. George, Fred II, and a 7-month-pregnant Angelina sat at the kitchen table together, eating breakfast in a comfortable, early-morning silence, until Fred II rubbed the sleep from his eyes and asked a heart stopping question: "daddy, do you have a birthday?"

George dropped his fork, a bite of eggs tumbling to the floor, and Angelina choked on the coffee she had been sipping.

George looked at his son slowly, before slowly answering, "yes, I do. It's…in a few days actually." George didn't ask why. He didn't want to know why. A child's curiosity, however, is not so easily curbed.

"I want to celebrate," he said, ignoring his parents' adverse reactions as only a child could, "I made you a present I really think you'll like!"

George reached for Angelina's hand underneath the table and held on for dear life. "Okay, Fred, but one condition: you have to help me blow out the candles."

The little boy nodded his head eagerly, clearly excited, before asking to be excused and darting away to his bedroom. Angelina examined him for a long moment, lips pursed in concern, before she dared to ask, "are you sure about this?"

George nodded, "I think I finally am."

So, Angelina invited his friends and family to a last-minute birthday bash, and although everyone was shocked, no one mentioned it. On the day of the party, those in attendance brought silly presents and wore genuine smiles as everyone gathered to celebrate the twins, both here and watching from above. The party was a blast; it seemed that everywhere one looked laughter could be heard. Everything went well, and even as Angelina brought out a cake with quite a few candles, the mood was still light. George sat at the head of the table and looked around as everyone began to sing, overwhelmed at the number of people here to support him.

Taking strength from being surrounded by so many that loved him, George pulled his son close to him and said, "on the count of three, okay?"

Fred nodded, grinning from ear to ear.

I hope it gets easier. I hope I live a life full enough for Fred and myself.

"1….2….3!"

The two blew out all the candles effortlessly, smiling at each other. His friends and family cheered loudly, for they too saw the symbolism:

For the first time since 1998, Fred and George Weasley blew out birthday candles together- and George would never have to do it alone again.

A/N: This has been floating around in my head for a while… I think I saw the birthday candle idea on tumblr and wanted to turn it into a oneshot! Let me know if people liked it :)