George tried to drown out Ron's hysteric sobbing as he lay, clutching their dead brother's body. Dead brother. George could not seem to wrap his head around that. Fred is dead, he told himself, but it still did not seem real. All his life he had grown up with his twin, never spending more than a day or two apart from him. Fred had been his partner in crime, his other half, his business partner, and most of all, his best friend. They had come into the world together, and it did not feel right that one of them had left before the other. It was always "Fred and George." Now Fred was gone forever.
George clenched his dirty hair in his fists, grinding his teeth together roughly. It was all he could do not to scream. He could feel the warm, wet tears dripping down his face but he swiftly wiped them away with the back of his hand. He would not openly cry in front of his family. He had to be strong for his mother. For Ron and Ginny. For everyone. He had to. Without a word to his family he stumbled away from them, still in a trance like state. He slumped against the nearest wall, leaning his head back onto the cool, bumpy stone. He relaxed his muscles and shut his eyes.
George sat for a long time like that, or so it seemed. When, at last, the darkness became too much for him to bear, he slowly raised his eyelids and suddenly became aware of what was going on around him. Ron was no longer crying over Fred's body. He was sitting, back propped against the wall opposite George, staring into space with empty eyes. The expression on his face was that of complete numbness. He looked almost as empty as George felt, and in that moment George decided that he would rather see his brother distraught. At least that would mean emotion. He glanced up at his mother to the left of him. She was leaning into his father's shoulder and silently sobbing into his shirt. George's father had his arm around his wife and he was staring at Fred's body. George hadn't yet seen his father shed one tear, but the look on his face said it all. His expression was pure loss and longing. He had never seemed so grief stricken in his entire life.
The rest of George's brothers were dispersed among the crowd. Charlie had left the room, as far as George could see. Percy sat alone, with his head between his hands shaking. George stared at him with a mix between animosity and pity. George wanted desperately to hate him, but couldn't bring himself to. Percy had abandoned him and Fred, abandoned his whole family, but he had finally come back. And on the very day he had made peace again with Fred, he had lost him forever. George saw Percy lift his head from his hands, glancing at Bill. Bill sat with his wife, facing the wall. George couldn't quite tell if he was crying or not, but suspected he wasn't. Bill was more of the type to keep his emotions bottled up and break down later on, rather than let it out in public. He was too proud. At that moment George remembered what Bill had told him the night before. He and Fleur had finally begun trying for a baby. Soon Bill is gonna have his own little boy or girl, George thought. And Fred will never get to see it.
George shuddered at the thought. And then it hit him. Fred was gone. Dead. Sure, he'd never be an uncle to Bill's child, but he would also never be an uncle to anybody's child. Worst of all, he would never be a father, never get to hold his precious child in his arms and whisper softly that everything was going to be alright. He would never truly fall in love with a woman. He would never marry, he would never see George or any of his other brothers marry. He would never get to do any of the things that he and George had planned to do. They would never travel the world together, try new experiences together, cause trouble together. He would never be able to make a simple joke again. Not one joke.
At that thought, George started crying again. This time it wasn't just silent tears dripping down the side of his cheek. He started sobbing uncontrollably. He completely lost control of his thoughts and let his grief take over his entire body. He collapsed backwards, into the side of the wall so that he was leaning against it. He was too wrapped up in an abundance of emotional pain to even think about what was going on around him anymore. He couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Fred was never coming back, that he'd never see his twin again. He thought back to the last words they'd spoken to each other.
"Are you okay, Freddie?" he'd asked.
"Yeah," his twin had responded, though his eyes told a different story. But George hadn't pointed anything out, he'd only smiled reassuringly.
"Me too," he had said, the last words he'd ever spoken to him. After that they'd stood together in silence until the battle had commenced and they'd been separated. Suddenly George felt a deep, sick sense of jealousy towards Percy. Percy had been the last person to speak with Fred alive, the last person to hear him make a joke. He was the last person to see Fred's crooked, carefree grin, before the explosion. That wasn't right. It should have been George.
After what seemed like an eternity, George lifted his head from his tear stained hands to glance around again. His eyes met his mothers, and she looked at him with an expression that was a mix between pity, reassurance, and just pure grief. She was no longer crying, though her face was swollen and blotchy red. George wanted to pull himself up from his spot against the wall and begin making his way towards his mother. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't move. He broke eye contact with her, unable to face the look in her eyes.
He felt barely conscious, a ghost in some stranger's body. He flipped the hair out of his eyes and wiped his face again. This was real. Fred was gone, and George was not okay. George could usually see the light at the end of the tunnel in every situation, but he saw none here. His best friend was gone. Gone forever. And there was nothing he could do about it. His thoughts were interrupted when a dark-skinned, skinny arm slid its way around his shoulder as his friend slumped down next to him.
"Angelina," he murmured, and subconsciously leaned his head on her shoulder. "He's gone Angie, he's gone. And he's never coming back."
"I know," she said, so softly he almost didn't pick it up. She wasn't crying, but he suspected she had been. She didn't say anything after that. The two of them sat there without a word. The silence wasn't awkward, it was somehow reassuring.
He couldn't believe she was comforting him right now. Sure George and Angelina had been close, and it was expected that she would be there for him in his time of need, but he was baffled at how well she was able to maintain composure at the moment. Yeah, George just lost the most important person in his life. But Angie had just lost her boyfriend. That must have been inconceivably difficult. Her world had just shattered right before her eyes, just as his had. At the moment, she might have been the only person who could possibly understand what he was going through. George sighed as he leaned deeper into her shoulder. He was suddenly extremely grateful for her friendship as they sat together. His eyes fluttered shut again and his breath became heavy. He breathed in deeply. Inhale. Exhale. This was real. Fred was gone. George's life had essentially just been taken from him. But as he lay in Angelina's arms, and thought of the family he had left, and thought of what Fred would've wanted for him, he knew he would not be able to give up. He would make it through this. And he would honor Fred's memory best he could. But no matter how optimistic he tried to be, the emptiness of Fred lingered in his bones. Everything in George's body ached, his heart worst of all. Fred was gone. He was gone forever. No matter how much better he tried to feel, nothing would change that fact. From now on there would no longer be any "Fred and George." Now it was just George.