Silence reigned the Burrows at breakfast. It was an unusual feeling, George thought, usually the house was full of noise and life. There'd be the constant questions from Ginny about the whereabouts of various items of clothing, or the laughs from him and Fred as they laughed at some new joke they'd found. There would be Ron mumbling away, and chomping loudly on his cereal whilst complaining about the lack of scones in the house, and Arthur reading the newspaper and shouting out the names of the article headers over the din of the house. Sometimes there would be Percy, chiding the twins as they set their porridge alight, and there was always Molly at the stove, frying up some bacon and eggs whilst she charmed the knitting needles to knit a jumper, or the scourers to clean the dishes. There would always be a cacophony of noise, but not today. Today, there was just George and Molly, as Ron was with Hermione (puke), Ginny was with Harry (double puke), Percy was at work with Arthur, and Fred was...was...not here. Molly was doing a small English breakfast, with toast, eggs, bacon and baked beans, at the stove while George ate his Frosted Flakes.
"Fred, dear, come bring your plate up for some cooked food." There was a silent pause when Molly turned around, looking at George in shame, shock and sadness all rolled into one look.
"I'm George...honestly woman, you call yourself our mother..." Molly smiled and as tears brimmed in her eyes, George's eyes didn't tear up, but immediately went to the staircase, waiting for his brother to run down them, tripping over his feet as he did so. But no such brother came, and George snapped back from his reverie, tears dripping down his nose as the truth of reality hit him once again.