The sun was shining up high, the birds chirping merrily, a light breeze blowing. It was the kind of weather that George would have loved normally, if it weren't for the damned battle. His other half, his twin, Fred Weasley, had gone away from him, left him, forever. Trying not to notice the tears flowing on his blotchy cheeks, he ran his hand through his hair, which seemed even more untidier than Harry's.

Harry.

Poor boy, he thought. He had seen so much, just too much for his age. It was just a few hours ago that he, Ron and Hermione had sat down and explained them each and every detail of their trip. His mother had started to bawl, not even his Dad could calm her down. Fleur looked weepy, too, but was being comforted by Bill. Ginny, his oh-so brave and strong sister, had tears flowing down freely on her cheeks. She had not been eating properly before, it was only Harry that coaxed her into eating. It was only him who had managed to bring a smile on her face, to put her to sleep, to encourage her to make a speech at Remus and Dora's funeral yesterday. If it wasn't for Harry, his only, precious sister would have been broken.

Hermione, on her part, had been doing the same for Ron. It was not a much of surprise when he spotted them holding hands after the war. only the incident when they got together startled him.

He glanced around from his place near the window, facing their backyard. He could just make out the outlines of Harry and Ginny, perched against the apple tree. Ginny, on hearing the part where Harry actually died, had vomited all over Harry, who was sitting beside her during the entire explanation. Harry, instead of flinching away and making faces, had scourgified away the sick, and simply nursed her back to feeling well.

Now, he could make out Ginny's shoulders shaking with unsuppressed sobs, with Harry hugging her close, tears visible on his face too.

Not wanting to disturb a private moment, he turned away and faced the staircase, where he saw Ron and Hermione descending, facing him. knowing what was coming, he got up, ready to leave, when he heard his mother's shaking voice.

"Ginny! Hermione! Please come to my room for a minute! It's important!"

His head automatically turned back towards the backyard, where he saw Harry and Ginny standing, with Ginny hastily rubbing her tear strained face and Harry speaking to her, cupping her face. He kissed her head and sat down again.

Hermione waited for Ginny to join her and they both went upstairs and Ron headed for the kitchen.

He walked towards the backyard, his feet feeling like lead.

"Harry."

"Oh, hey George."

The look on his face almost broke his already shattered heart. It was tear strained, with his green eyes void of it's usual twinkle. It looked ghostly now. Too old for his age.

"I wanted to ask you something..."

"Yes?"

"You've died."

"Yes, I have..."

"Do you think it would have hurt him?"

Harry got an extremely strange look on his young face. He remained silent for some time and then replied,

"Dying? Not at all. Quicker and easier than falling asleep,"

Harry suddenly turned his face away, burying it between his knees. As if silently answering his unspoken question, he replied,

"When I used the Stone, I asked...Padfoot the same question. It was the last time ever I could talk to him," came his muffled reply.

His heart, which was teetering on the edge, finally broke.