The Ron and George part now, enjoy...

Ron sat in the graveyard and cried silently.

Fred's dead.

Ron couldn't remember how he'd been killed. But he had. It was all a blur. And he didn't want to ask questions about it or answer them.

It should have been him that died. Not Fred. Fred had a twin, who hadn't spoken to anybody since the death, which was now six months ago.

George didn't even look like George anymore. He looked haunted.

There was no laughter or smile on his face and no twinkle in his eye.

Everyone was focusing on George and how Fred's death had affected him.

No one noticed Ron. No one.

A hand touched Ron's shoulder and Ron turned and looked up to see who it was.

'Hey George.'

'Hi Ron.' That was the first time that Ron had heard George speak since before Fred's death.

'He would have liked this spot.' Smiled Ron, while the tears rolled down. He offered the bottle in his hand towards George. 'It helps.'

George just shook his head and stared out. Ron shrugged and took a sip of the nearly empty bottle.

Fred's grave was on a hill and overlooked a beautiful forest and calm lake. It was picturesque.

'I miss him.' Muttered George, as a tear started to roll down his cheek. Crying had become a habit of his.

'Don't we all? Bet he would have liked all of this fuss.' George nearly smiled, nearly.

'He was my twin.'

'No George. He is your twin. He's still alive.' George gave a horrid laugh.

'Fred's dead!' Ron sniggered.

'That rhymes! You're a poet and I bet you didn't know it.' George smiled. He actually smiled. 'No George, his spirit lives on in all of us.' Ron opened his arms out wide, just missing George's face.

'What a load of bullshit.'

'That's right.' Smiled Ron. 'Bet he's having the time of his life up there. Partying...wonder if angels are hot?' George smirked at his brother; trust Ron to think of girls at a time like this. 'Bet they are. Lucky bastard.' Ron shook his head, smiling, and took another sip.

'I wish he was here...now.' George whispered as he looked out over the lake. 'I wish I was the one dead.' He added quietly. But Ron heard.

'George, don't you ever say that!' Ron's tone was no longer light.

'But Fred didn't deserve to die!'

'And nor do you! If you had died, I bet Fred would have been all depressed like you are! Neither of you deserve to die.' Ron was serious and George knew it. 'I should be there.' Ron looked down at Fred's grave.

George shook his head.

'Yes. Because I don't have a twin. I've got no one. Fred had that girlfriend, you know?' But George still shook his head.

'None of us deserved to die, but someone has too.' George said.

'Don't.'

'Do.'

'Don't.'

'Do.'

'Don't.'

'Do.'

'Do.'

'Ha.'

Ron laughed, it was a laugh from the bottom of his heart and soon George joined in, even though he didn't know what he was laughing about.

'Do you know that me and Fred had that exact conversation! 'Do' and 'don't'. But it was about "my frizzy-haired girlfriend"!' Smiled Ron, his tears had now stopped.

'She is your frizzy-haired girlfriend.' Ron stopped laughing and gave George a death glare...before both boys burst into laughter.

Pointless and without reason laughter, but it was needed desperately.

'He's watching us Ronnie. I know it.'

Ron nodded. 'Yeah, I know he is. He said he would. And I believe him.'

George stood up.

'Where you going George?'

'There's something I've got to do.'

'Mind sharing?'

'I've got a shop to open.'

'Mind if I join. This depressed drinker look really doesn't suit me.'

'No it doesn't...but Hermione does.' George laughed and received a light punch on the arm from Ron who then began laughing.

'Fred wouldn't want us to be like this.' George nodded in agreement; his time of grieving wasn't over, it never would be, but Fred would want it to be.

'Thanks Ron.' George hugged his brother and whispered into his ear. 'I love you little brother.'

'Wow, George, maybe you should get your head checked! Losing an ear and a twin has made you crazy!' Ron received a punch and a smile. 'I love you too George. Now come on, I don't think that shop is going to open its self.'

'But maybe...'

'George!'

'What?'

'I know what you're thinking!'

'But...'

'Knowing you, the magic would backfire or last five seconds. Then I'd end up in St Mungo's and the shop would join Fred.'

'Ronniekins, you're such a spoil sport...'

'GEORGE!'