The Sound Of Silence
George sat for hours in his room, looking but not seeing, hearing but not listening. Throughout the house that surrounded him, the house that he loved, was all the usual noise and yet it wasn't there. The ghoul in the attic was quiet for once. Ginny wasn't arguing with their mother or Ron. Bill and Charlie weren't jousting with tables or on broomsticks. The noise was still there, tucked away in the corners of the house, but it was all too quiet. The house knew that one of its occupants was missing, gone forever, never coming back. George hated to think it, almost as much as he hated to see the empty bed on the other side of the room. He lay down on the bed, rolling away from the sight.
He awoke two hours later, to the sound of someone knocking on his door.
'George?' came Bill and Fleur's voices 'let us in. Please. We want to help you.'
But George ignored the noise, focusing instead on the deafening silence that surrounds him. He rolled over and let sleep claim him.
When he next awoke, it was to find Percy and Ron perched unsteadily on the side of Fred's bed. He rolled back around, turning his back to them.
'Go away' he muttered to the wall.
'You're not the only one who lost him' whispered Ron.
'But I'm the only one that matters'
When he woke again, he found Harry sitting on the floor next to his bed. Neither one said a word, just sat together in silence. Then, Harry stood, slowly, stiffly, dropping a photo onto the coverlet before leaving. George turned it over to find a photo of himself and Fred, wearing identical grins, taken mere days before the battle.
He didn't sleep again, just lay staring at the wall, and the photo he'd attached to it. When the door opened the next time, he didn't look around, just allowed Hermione and Ginny to lie down beside him. The girls wrapped their arms around him, holding him tightly as the angry bitter sobs broke into the silence. Then, they slipped back out the door after sleep had claimed him.
When he awoke, it was to find Charlie sitting on the floor, back to the door, drawing in his small sketch pad. George stood, shaky on his legs, as if he was a newborn calf. He walked over to where his older brother sat, and sank to the ground to watch. Under the rough calloused hand, a picture of a family began to take shape. First, a young man, hair messy, an ear missing, followed slowly by a brother, with scars that ran deeper than any picture showed. Beside him stood a breathtakingly beautiful woman, one arm wrapped him. Beside them stood a girl with bushy hair, holding the hand of a man who had tiny scars running up one arm. On the other side stood two more brothers, one wearing glasses that gave him the appearance of a wise owl, wearing an expression of regret that George wanted to reach out and wipe away. The final brother had one arm wrapped around the other's shoulder, an arm covered with burns. The parents were added in next, standing behind their boys, matching expressions of pain marring their faces. Then, in the front went a man with glasses and messy hair, holding the hand of a beautiful young woman, who was reaching towards the first man, a look of understanding on her face. Once that was done, Charlie laid down the pencil, and George watched, waiting for him to sketch in the last person. The missing Weasley, but the pencil never lifted, the final brother never came. George realised that now. He turned to his brother who only raised an eyebrow at him.
'Are you ready?'
George could only nod, so Charlie lifted him to his feet and helped him down the stairs, to where the others waited. Percy was first to stand, taking hold of his brother's arm. Ron came next, holding tight to Hermione's hand. Bill and Fleur hat came next, both placing a comforting hand on his back. Ginny and Harry were the last to move, and as the Weasley children walked, they took up the rear. Still no words were said, none were needed, as they helped their brother face the thing he'd been avoiding for days.
Molly watched from the window as George walked back towards the house. He wasn't ok. Not yet. None of them were, but at least now he knew he wasn't alone. Fred may be gone, but the others still remained. She smiled down at the picture Charlie had drawn, and watched as the occupants smiled back. As she slipped out of the room, wiping the tears from her eyes, a comfortable silence settled over the house.