If you're like me, you simply can't come to terms with Fred dying. I mean, Fred? Reeeally.

So, I had an idea, but I had to tweak the canon a bit to get it to work. So, let's just pretend that Fred's body was never found, okay? Then this story will make more sense.

Everything belongs to J. K. Rowling, the only real-life witch.

George couldn't face anybody. It had been a week since Fred had gone missing, and he was on edge about everything. The witches and wizards cleaning up after the war had found, horrifyingly enough, random, grotesque body parts near where the explosion had taken place. They had been forced to conclude that Fred was de-

No, no he wasn't they had never found a body, so he couldn't be d-

No, no, George, don't even think it, because then that will make it true.

The mediwitches had assured the Weasleys that they were searching best they could for Fred, but it had been almost a week. What if they called off the search?

Well, he figured, he could do with some food. He hadn't eaten since the war ended. He wondered if Fred was hungry, wherever he was at the moment, because it sure as hell wasn't the other side, or wherever the hell you go after you d-

No. Just stop thinking, George, and stay away from words like that. If there's no body, he wasn't dead, right?

Fred's head hurt. Quite badly.

He knew he wasn't fully conscious, but from what he could tell he was under a rock. Had be been blasted here from that explosion? It seemed like it. When he touched the back of his throbbing head, he was surprised and disgusted when it came away bloody.

He stood up, hoisting himself out from under the cavelike structure he was stuck beneath, and looked around. He recognized his surroundings as the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

"Bloody hell," he muttered. "I gotta get back to the fight." He turned on his heel and apparated back to the castle.

George walked downstairs, and the minute the rest of his family caught sight of him, the whole room turned cold. Every single Weasley was staring at him as if he was a bomb getting ready to explode.

He walked to the cabinets and got some food, his mother looking as if she was going to say something. George looked back at her expectantly.

"George, dear..." She hesitated, then continued at top speed. "Georgie, it's been a week, and we just got an owl from the Auror's Office. They've called off the search."

It felt like the bottom of his stomach had dropped out. It was as if the very thought of Fred never being here again- No, the reality of it- had knocked him off his feet. The kitchen spun. Nevertheless, he faced his tearful mother and said, "What?"

"T-they've stopped looking. H-he's g-gone. I'm sorry, George, dear," she replied, the last words of her sentence engulfed in sobs, and grabbed her remaining twin around the neck. George let her cry for a few moments before plopping down in one of the more comfortable chairs in the living room.

It was a few minutes of staring at his hands a letting the information soak into his brain that he noticed all the Weasleys, plus Harry and Hermione, were staring at him. Not in a gawking sort of way, but expectant. Wondering if he was going to break anything. "What?" was all he could say.

"George..." He looked to see Hermione, already crying, with Ron's arm around her shoulders. "I'm very sorry..."

"Don't be sorry, he's not dead." The words came so easily from his mouth, but somewhere deep down he felt like he was lying.

"George, stop it. You're just making this harder." Bill had spoken this time. His voice was steady, but he wasn't looking directly at George.

George couldn't reply. As he looked at the people staring at him, he noticed more and more of them starting to cry. Was he really causing all of this? For no reason?

He had to leave, now.

His hand was on the doorknob when he heard Charlie's voice. "George, where are you going?"

"Out for a bit. I'll be back soon." It was getting easier and easier to lie. He wasn't coming back even remotely soon, because what he had in mind was going to take a while.

He was going to find Fred.

When the suffocating sensation had lifted from Fred's body, he was surprised to see that there was nobody left in the castle, at least in the Great Hall. Where had everyone gone? Had the war ended while he was lying under that rock? He couldn't have been gone that long...

He searched around the deserted Great Hall, half expecting someone to jump out from behind a suit of armor, but finding only discarded garbage and dust. He turned on his heel and apparated back to Hogsmeade.

When he landed, he was right on Main Street. The sound was deafening, and for a minute he thought that the war had been relocated to Hogsmeade, but then realized it was cheering, firecrackers, music. People were celebrating.

Huge, purple posters were all around him, saying similar things - "You-Know-Who is Gone!", "The War is Over!".

Wait a minute.

What?

Dear God, how long had he been out?

He tapped the shoulder of a passing stranger. "Excuse me, how long has the war been over?"

The man smiled and said, "Oh, about a week today. Isn't it wonderful?"

Fred didn't reply, he just turned on the spot and apparated back to the Burrow.