So I realize that this may not go exactly according to the book or the movie, but its just a little thing I wrote on how Ginny took the death of Fred, so yeah, I hope you guys enjoy it. J I kind of picture this happening when some of the fighting has died down, but there's still war going on, so yeah. This was written for the Hunger Games Style Harry Potter Competition-y Thingy as an audition piece.

Also, if any of this seems like it doesn't make sense, in particular why Ginny thinks that Fred's death is her fault, even though it isn't, she's just feeling like if she had been there, then maybe he wouldn't have died, even though its not really even her fault. That's all. Enjoy!

My hands were balled up in fists, my eyes clenched tightly, trying not to let the tears fall. It was a time of war, death was part of that, and I knew it. It was just hard to admit that your own brother was dead. Through everything that had happened this year, I hadn't planned on losing my brother.

Mum and Dad were lying over hid dead body, sobbing and clinging to each other like their lives depended on it. Just seeing them made it even harder not to cry. He just lay there motionless, a smile still on his face. This couldn't be real. Fred was not dead. I don't know what he thought he was up to, but he was not dead.

Without even thinking, I ran over to him, almost shoving my parents out of the way. "Wake up!" I yelled at him, hitting him on the chest. "You're not dead! Wake up!" I finally let myself start crying. He hadn't so much as flinched when I hit him, and that same expression was still on his face. I fell down on his body, burying my face in his chest, tears falling down my face at an unreasonably fast pace.

This was my fault. If I had gone with him and George instead of going to find Harry, then he would still be alive. I couldn't have saved him!

Mum tried to get me to sit up, but I refused. I didn't want to have to talk to anyone. I just wanted to stay here with Fred, while I could. I didn't care that there was a war going on. We might have well lost it now that Fred was dead.

It seemed silent everywhere. The chaos of the war was suddenly gone. I couldn't even hear my mum telling me that we needed to leave, that Fred would still be here when the war was over.

I could only imagine how George would react. It was probably going to be a million times worse than me. Not only had he lost a brother, he had lost his best friend. I couldn't even bear to picture the look on his face when he saw our brother lying there, lifeless.

It all seemed so surreal, everything that was going on. Why were we even fighting? What was the point of it? What was the point of anything? There was an emptiness in my heart that made me feel like there was no hope. I didn't want to do anything. I just wanted to lie there, and forget about everything and everyone. Just simply be, almost like life after having the dementor's kiss. It would be better than feeling this way.

All of a sudden, the sounds of everything came back to me. The first thing I heard was a scream. No, it was more of a cry. It was George. I looked up just a little bit, still clinging onto Fred. George was running towards me, not even trying to hold back his tears. He pushed Mum, Dad, and me away, and began weeping over his twin's body.

I thought that watching Mum and Dad cry over him was sad, but it was nothing compared to this. I slowly got to my feet, wiping the tears away from my eyes. There was so much pain on George's face that I couldn't even begin to describe. It was more than just grief; there was anger and hatred there too. It was too unbearable to look at the two of them any longer.

Turning away, I remembered why we were fighting. We were fighting for those we loved. We were fighting for our freedom. And I wasn't going to let Fred die in vain.

We were going to win this war.