Disclaimer: I own nothing.
This is my first attempt so be nice please. Written because Angelina was Fred's girl and the fact that George apparently married her bothered me.
Diagon alley was riotous. A week since the second defeat of Voldemort and the wizarding world was still celebrating. If people had been worried about discovery seventeen years ago it was nothing compared to this time. However through the merriment one man cut his path. Surrounded with an air not of joy but not of gloom either, simply one of indifference. The Weasley family (born and extended) were in mourning for friends and family lost. But it was time to emerge and face the world once more. After a week hiding at the burrow George Weasley was returning to the Wheezes.
George entered the shop slowly. Opening the door was enough to bring on an onslaught of memories he would much rather repress. The place was in shambles, but that was to be expected. One does not openly mock Lord Voldemort before and after his rise to power without repercussions. Broken bottles of what he assumed were once daydream potions were strewn across the room. It was obvious from the acrid stench hanging in the air they were way past the expiration date. Everything was broken; George didn't even want the think about what had happened to the pygmy puffs.
Picking his way across the rubble that had once been his life's work, George realized he was not alone. There was a small figure dressed in a torn set of familiar magenta robes hunched against the front counter.
"Vertiy?"
"George?"
His lips quirked up in the first semblance of a smile since the battle at Hogwarts. Verity always had been able to tell them apart. It had been a game, a grand joke, attempting to fool her. Even now after all that had happened and the long time they had been apart she knew it was George here with her in the dark. The petite blond leapt to her feet and moved towards him, relief etched on every line of her face.
"Oh George! I came back as soon as I heard about the battle. Is it really over? I knew you and Fred would have been there and..." she drifted off. "Where's Fred?"
Where's Fred. Such a simple question should have a simple answer, but it didn't. The hole in his heart that had held his brother ached. A week of his families attempts to connect with him; of Harry's guilty silences, Ron's awkward conversation, and the rest of the family's various tries. His mother couldn't even look at him without crying anymore. For an entire week he had held on, avoided the grief of those around him. But that question broke him. Verity rushed forward, arms open, as George collapsed into her sobbing. And there they stayed, clinging to one another, mourning amongst the shattered remains of the dream he and Fred had shared.
Reading is nice, reviews are nicer. Let me know if I should make it a chapter story.