George felt his hair blow across his face as the breeze came. He opened his eyes. He just couldn't do it anymore. It was 8 months after the war ended. Every time he closed his eyes he saw him
Mouth open in a last laugh.
Eyes that never closed.
Body falling to the floor as if time had slowed.
His twin.
His brother.
His other half.
His Fred.
They were supposed to do everything together. Everything. And now they couldn't.
Because he was gone.
He was never coming back.
Everytime George looked in a mirror he would see him.
He still turned to his right to make a comment or share a joke.
His smile faded every time when there was no identical set of eyes looking back at him.
When he worked at the Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes he would put on a smile for the customers.
He would put on a smile for his friends.
He would put on a smile for his family.
But his eyes were always dead.
Every night he would lay on Fred's bed and cry himself to sleep.
Every night he would dream of what happened.
Every night he would wake up screaming and crying, looking for comfort but finding none.
He had lost the one thing in his life that was supposed to be constant, and he couldn't take it anymore.
The breeze came back again, and blew against his face. He hadn't realized he'd been crying.
The stars were blinking harshly at him. They offered no comfort.
The moon looked like him. Only half of it was there.
He looked down. The ledge he was standing on was maybe three inches long. He knew that when he let go, he would not be able to balance himself. He just couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't live life without Fred by his side.
His fingers flexed on the safety rail.
He looked at the ground, forty stories down.
He tensed, getting ready to let go.
His fingers loosened their hold on the rail, and he began to lean forward in anticipation.
A sob.
George caught himself at the last moment. He thought he had been alone up there. There wasn't much light to work with, but he could make out another person about 15 feet away from him. He had been too caught up in his thoughts to notice them.
They sobbed again. It was a girl, and she couldn't have been more than 10.
She was in the exact same position he was in.
He began to slowly make his way toward he on the ledge. Once a big brother, always a big brother.
As he got closer, he could make out more of her features. She had tangled shoulder length brown hair, and she was much to skinny.
Her eyes were what he noticed the most. They were large and amber, and shone with tears in the harsh starlight. He could see the pain and sadness she was feeling. It was too much for someone her age.
"Hey," he said softly, as not to startle her, "here's what I want you to do. I need you to lean back against the rail, and on the count of three, you're going to need to lift your right leg up and over it. Then I want you to slide down the other side, onto the roof."
The girl turned her large pained eyes at him.
"Will you do it for me?"
She nodded.
"Okay. One. Two. Three."
She lifted her right leg up and over the rail. Then, she slid down the other side, landing safely on the roof.
George turned back around.
He stared at the ground, far away.
He took a deal breath.
I'm coming, Fred. I can't be without you.
He flexed his fingers again and began to lean forward.
"Wait! Please. I need you to listen to me and do what I say. I need you to lean back against the rail, and on the count of three, you're going to lift your leg over it. Then I want you to slide down the other side. Onto the roof."
The soft voice was the girl's.
"One. Two. Three."
He lifted his right leg up and over the rail, and set both feet safely on the roof.
The girl collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest.
He lowered them both to the ground, and leaned his back against the rail. They sat for a long time, the girl sobbing as George held her with silent tears streaming down his face.
They were still there, together, on the roof when the sun began to come up.
With the sun came a voice.
"You will never be without me." Said the voice.
It sounded like Fred. George hugged the girl tighter to his body.
It was three months later when George got custody of young Amber, saving her from her abusive foster home. The process would have been quicker had he not had to fight the Ministry of Magic on bringing in a muggle child who knew nothing of their world.
The nightmares slowly began to become less and less frequent. He had found a reason for living again.
He was there when she got her first glimpse of Diagon Alley. He loved the way her eyes lit up with excitement and wonder.
He was there when she laughed in glee on her first ride on broomstick.
He was there when she got her letter to Hogwarts.
He was there when she got her wand.
He was the one she dragged through the pet stores, unable to decide on one until she finally settled on a gorgeous Northern Saw-Whet Owl with eyes the same shade as her own.
He was the one who ran with the train as it left the station, and stood there on the platform long after the train had disappeared from sight.
He gave her boyfriends the shovel talk, and held her if they broke up with her, or high fives her if she broke up with them.
He was the one who heard her shriek as she got her O.W.L. results from the school owl.
He was the one who grew her a celebration party when she graduated from Hogwarts.
He was the one who swept her up and spun her around in a bone crushing hug when she said she wanted to work at Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.
He was the one who walked her down the aisle at her wedding.
He was the one who was always there for her, no matter the time of day.
And, when she died of old age, he and Fred were there at the gates, waiting for her to join them before moving on, her amber eyes shining with excitement.