A/N: Hey guys. So I took this down and I'm re-uploading it, after rewriting it. I hope you enjoy it again!

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They said that it would get easier.

They promised me that I wouldn't hurt forever.

I never expected my life to fall into this…routine.

My life doesn't even seem to be worth living anymore.

I can't even look at myself in the mirror without crying and asking myself—

Every time I look in the mirror, I see him and ask myself—

"Why couldn't it have been me and not them?"

Then I realize that if I had taken my sister's place…

If I had died that day and not my brother…

She'd be the one sitting in the bathtub, crying and asking herself the same thing.

He'd be the one sitting in our flat, refusing to speak to anyone.

The only difference is she had a child who she would have to be sane for.

The only difference is he had a girl waiting for him to come back alive.

But still, even when I say that there is a difference, there isn't.

Because, even if I had taken his place…

Because, even if I had taken her place…

He'd be the one blaming himself and even worse, possibly doing what I can't do.

She'd blame herself and do what I can't…

Kill themselves.


It's supposed to get easier, he thought to himself as he stared at the darkened, dust-covered store. The lights hadn't been turned on and the windows had been boarded up for over a year now. Nothing was getting easier, like everyone had promised. He couldn't move on. He couldn't open the shop without his twin; it was like looking in the mirror and not seeing your reflection. He hated it more than he hated Percy for letting his twin die, but…it wasn't really Percy's fault. It never was. He just needed a scapegoat and his older brother was it. And that killed him to blame his brother.

The red-headed man stood at the top of the stairs, not moving to the open space of the once extravagant shop. Everything was where he and Fred had left it. Nothing had changed and nothing was going to change. He wouldn't open the shop, not anytime soon. No matter how many letters he got from students and parents alike. No matter how many times Ron or Charlie or Bill came to see him and tell him to. They couldn't make him and he wouldn't do it. Not without Fred. With a deep breath, he returned to his room and slammed the door, unable to keep looking at the gift he and his brother created.

George Weasley sat down on his bed and put his head his hands, unable to control the sobbing that was now escaping his mouth. It was supposed to get easier.


It takes time, she reminded herself for the umpteenth time that week. The baby was crying again, calling out for his mother. It broke her heart that his mother would never come back for him. It also made her choke up whenever she walked into his bedroom and see that his hair was green or blue because the poor baby was a Metamorphmagus, just like his late mother. Teddy Lupin was always crying these days and there really wasn't anything his aunt could do to stop him.

She wouldn't be able to keep him from crying, as she was usually crying along with him if she was in her room. Her older sister was her best friend; they were only five years apart in age. The younger sister couldn't stand being in the house as often as Teddy demanded; she preferred taking the baby for walks down the lane and through Diagon Alley, even if many of the shops were still closed. She still enjoyed seeing Ollivander in his shop and selling wands to young wizards and witches who were returning to Hogwarts.

Teddy continued to cry late into the night and she couldn't stop him, so instead, she ran the hot water in the bathtub. When the hot water filled the tub and bubbles were formed, she climbed in and sat down, closing her eyes. Asteria Tonks began sobbing hysterically, her tears mixing with the bathwater.