A/N: Sorry if this gets a little sloppy at the end. I was crying too hard to finish properly. Fred's death, in my opinion, is the most tragic in the entire series, because not only did he die, but he left behind George. The thought of George having to go through life alone is killing me right now, even though they're fictional.
He knew exactly how it had started. They had all been sitting at the table, talking and laughing. Harry had turned to George, and said "Hey, mate, do you think you and F- you could go grab my coat from the front room?"
George felt a rush of fury and hurt. He stood up, the heavy wooden chair he had been sitting on falling back onto the floor.
Percy twitched slightly, and Harry looked up at him, one hand instinctively wrapping around Ginny's shoulders.
"George-" his mother started toward him, her arms rising so she could pull him into an embrace.
He took a step back, one hand tightly gripping his wand. He glanced to his left, opening his mouth to say something to his brother. Fred wasn't there. He would never be there. Never again. George flushed, turning back to his family. His eyes fell on Ron and Percy. They had been there. They had seen it happen. They could have stopped it.
George took another step back, feeling incredibly alone. His back hit the kitchen counter and he flinched. He shook his head, trying to clear the image of his brother's dead body from his mind.
"Excuse me," he turned and rushed toward the door.
"George," Ron said, standing.
George whirled around.
"We all lost him. All of us."
George's hand tightened on his wand. "He was… he was my brother," His voice was thick with tears.
"He was our brother too!" Ginny sounded indignant.
"Yes, but he was… I was…" George was trembling.
"We all miss him, George," Ron said.
George snapped. He turned on his younger brother, holding up his wand. "He was my best friend!" He screamed. "I lost my best friend in the world and I never got to say goodbye!" Tears were running down his face and he swiped at them clumsily.
"Neither did we!" Percy looked angry and confused, like he didn't understand why George was so upset.
"We all wish things were different-" Harry started.
"HE DIED FOR YOU!" George screamed, whirling on Harry.
Harry flushed. Everyone had been thinking that, even Harry, but nobody had ever said it.
"He was my best friend, and he died for you and now I'm alone," George said softly.
"Harry was willing to die for all of us," Ginny said.
"Yes, well, he didn't, did he?" George was on the verge of hysteria.
"George, when Sirius died-" Harry was changing the subject. Everyone knew how much he hated being portrayed as a hero.
George turned on Harry, "Stop acting like you know what I'm going through, Potter." He spat out Harry's surname like poison. "Fred-" just saying his name hurt. "He's always been here. He's always been with me. And now- now he's gone! Tell me, Harry, have either of your best friends died? No! You have Hermione, you have Ron, you have Ginny! Who do I have, Harry? Who do I have?" His hands were shaking. "Nobody!"
Hermione stifled a sob and Ron wrapped his arms around her.
George turned away, tears rolling down his cheeks. He felt his mother's hand on his arm. He shook he off, storming toward the back door. One flick of his wand and the door was off of the hinges, and George was out of the house.
He sprinted down the driveway, not turning back. He heard his family and friends calling his name, running after him.
George turned onto the road, gravel crunching under his feet. He stopped in his tracks as he realized where he needed to be. He turned, looking down the road at his family. Ron and Charlie were closest, Ginny, Harry and Percy right behind them.
George closed his eyes, turning into the darkness.
George opened his eyes at the bottom of the hill near the graveyard. He started sprinting up the hill, leaping over gravestones and ducking tree branches. He fell to his knees when he reached the small, grey slab of granite. He held up one hand, his fingers tracing the words on the stone: "Here lies Fred Weasley, April 1, 1978- May 2, 1998".
He curled up, leaning against the granite, hugging his legs to his chest. He breathed deeply, his hands shaking. His head fell, his forehead hitting his knees. He started sobbing uncontrollably, his hands tugging at the grass beneath him.
He heard footsteps and looked up, holding up his wand.
Through the tears, he saw Ron.
George and Ron had never been close. If George was going to be honest with himself, he would be able to admit that Fred was really the only one of his siblings he had been all that close with. George loved his siblings, unquestionably, but none of them really knew him. Since Fred had died, George had realized that he didn't even know himself. Being without Fred had taught George how to be alone, but George still didn't know who he was. He was so used to being Fred's right hand man, the follower, that he had forgotten how to be George.
"How did you find me?" He asked, clearing his throat.
Ron walked a little closer, sliding his wand into his pocket. "I figured you wanted to be close to him."
George nodded, wiping the tears off of his cheek. "He's not really here though, is he?"
Ron sat down next to George, leaning back on the headstone, his hands clasped lightly in his lap, "I dunno, George."
George glanced at his younger brother. Ron had aged a hundred years since the battle at Hogwarts. There was a wisdom in his eyes that had never been there, and there was comfort in his voice that George had never heard before.
Ron gazed down the hill, at the mist drifting over the ground. He turned to George, "I'm not going to pretend that I know how you feel," he glanced down at his hands, twining his fingers together, "I know what Fred meant to you. He wasn't just your brother… he was your best friend. You guys did everything together." He clapped his hand onto George's knee and turned to look him in the eye, "I know you're scared, George, of living without him."
George tried not to start crying again. He turned away from Ron, a tear sliding down his cheek.
"But George," Ron sighed, "I also know that you're strong enough to make it through this. You've always been there for me to talk to, even if I never took advantage of that fact. Something about you makes people comfortable." He took a deep breath, like he scared of what he was about to say, "Fred… Fred didn't always care about people's feelings. He didn't understand that he was capable of hurting people. But George, you've always understood that. You've always been the one holding Fred back if you thought he was going too far, you've always been more careful around people."
George glanced at Ron, wondering where he was going with this.
Ron swore under his breath, knotted his fingers tighter together, then turned to George again, "I'm trying to say that you're not alone in this anymore. You're a great wizard, and a bloody brilliant brother, and- and Fred loved you."
George broke down, sobbing into his hands. "I never got to tell him, Ron. I don't think he knew that I love him."
Ron grabbed George's arm, "Are you kidding me, George?"
George looked up, surprised at Ron's rough touch.
"Of course he bloody knew! You were practically a part of him!" Ron let go of George, "You don't have to say it for them to know. I know Harry loves me, he doesn't have to say it. I know Percy loves us, the prat. I know you love me." He looked at George. "Are you ready to go home yet?"
George shook his head, the tears rolling down his cheeks freely.
Ron nodded, "I'm staying with you."
"Do you think he's happy?" George looked up at Ron desperately, tears splashing onto Fred's grave.
Ron turned toward George, and George saw his younger brother's eyes sparkling with tears. "Yeah, I do."
"He always told me what to do. He always made the plans. I don't know what I'm supposed to do without him. I don't know how I'm supposed to live without him. Part of me died when he did. He left me alone, and I don't know how to face the world without him next to me. I don't-" George choked on his words, sobbing into his arm. "I don't know who I am anymore."
Ron grabbed his brother's arm again, squeezing, as tears began falling from his own eyes.
The two brothers leaned into each other, sobbing together over Fred's grave. And for the first time since his brother, his best friend, his other half, died, George didn't feel so alone.