A new chapter, and well, it's not about a funeral... but you'll see. You may have notice that I named the chapters and added some text below. The texts are from songs by Within Temptation, I listened to the music while writing, and it fits the mood I was in. Melancholic, sad lyrics. The names of the chapters are the songs from which I took the lyrics.

However, no more talking, just read, and I'd appreciate some reviews!

Oh and: I don't own anything!

2. Somewhere

The old wooden door creaked as he opened it, and for a short moment he was surrounded by darkness. Then his fingers found the light switch and in the next second, the room was illuminated by a warm, yellow light. He looked around and the fact that it was just like he had left it took him by surprise. How could it be that there were the same pictures on the wall, the same colourful sweets in the boxes in the corner, the same dusty cupboards? His eyes spotted the calendar just above the counter, and something was wrong, but at first he couldn't tell what.

Then he realized that the date was wrong. Due to the little paper card he had travelled two days into the past.

Two days… how could it be only two days, when time had passed so incrdibly slowly since… the day? And why had time stopped when this wasn't an ordinary calendar but a bewitched one?

George stared at it for a long time, not able to think straight. It had worked properly when he had seen it the last time. Two days ago. When he had left the shop with…

And then it dawned upon him, and his shaky fingers reached out to the magical object. It had stopped working when the world had stopped turning, because the one who had enchanted it had died. Absentmindedly he wiped some dust off it. Then he stepped back, because the dust made his eyes blink. It had to be the dust, he told himself.

His footsteps echoed in the silent room, and it made him shiver. He had never heard them before, not when there were children running around, parents shouting, wands exploding and people laughing. Not when he hadn't been alone.

He caught his reflection in the window, and he stared at a stranger who he vaguely remembered, somewhere in the deep corners of his mind. A young man who once used to smile, who was now tired and worn out like an old warrior suffering from a war and the wounds he had received. Involuntarily George's hand flew up to the hole at the side of his head and the memories of the night came back immediately.

'With the whole wide world of ear-related humour before you, you go for holey?'

'At least you'll be able to tell us apart now, anyway, Mum.'

But Fred had been wrong, and so had he himself. They hadn't had the world before them, but who could have known? They had been aware of the risks and they had taken it voluntarily, because it was what they loved best, and they had been daring and proud and young.

And now here he was, a boy of twenty years, one half of a soul, alone. With no one to tell him apart from.

He couldn't stand the silence, and for a moment he thought that probably he should have stayed at The Burrows, with his family around. Then he realized that it wouldn't have been easier. He had returned home after the battle only to find a dead house. No laughter erupted from Ron's room where Harry used to stay, no giggling from Ginny and Hermione, and instead of lamenting about Bill's long hair, the only words of his mother were drenched in tears. George had searched refuge in his old bedroom, only to find his twin's presence waiting in every corner, in the trousers still lying on the chair, in the magazine with some singer waving happily at him, in the organizer on the desk which had been a present from Hermione for their 17th birthday. More out of despair than curiosity had George opened it, not knowing what he was hoping to find, but still he had been hit with disappointment as it had been absolutely blank. Fred had never been the type of organizing anything in his life.

'Just going to make it up as we go along, are we? My favourite kind.'

George shook his head to clear himself from the memories. How eager had they been to fight, to risk their lives, to save the world. But what was the sense in saving the world, he wondered in despair, when the world wasn't the same anymore? When the world he used to love was gone, replaced by a cold place he was suddenly stuck in alone?

He had to get away, all his senses forced him to leave, not to stay in here where everything reminded him of his brother, but where should he go to? It didn't matter, because every street, every pub, every shop in Diagon Alley reminded him of Fred, they had never gone anywhere alone, it had always been both of them. Fred and George. The twins. Now there was only one, but what was the sense of a singular form? There wasn't such thing as 'one twin', he thought bitterly, not when he didn't feel like something whole at all. Something hole, maybe. His lips twitched with a smile while he felt his eyes beginning to sting again.

"Dammit!", he screamed, and kicked the box that was nearest to him. A loud shriek filled the silent room, and George winced. He looked closer at the items in the box. Footballs, ordinary, black-and-white footballs, screaming when they were kicked. It had been Dean Thomas' idea, he remembered, and even then he and Fred hadn't been completely convinced about it.

'Who in their right mind would want to play a game in which you aren't allowed to fly?!'

Of course Fred had been right, they hadn't sold one single ball but the one Dean himself had bought. He had always been right, and even if he had been wrong he had still tried to make believe that it had all happened according to plan.

"But plans fail, Fred", George whispered, his voice barely audible. He bit his lower lip and turned his head away from the football on the ground. His eyes found the door, and for a moment he could see Fred coming in, beaming all over his face, and he took a step forward. But the door didn't open. He stared at it for some more seconds, then turned on the spot and headed for the opposite direction, to the staircase that led up to the rooms above the shop.

As he set foot on the first stair he hesitated. He hadn't been up there since… He choked. But something forced him to climb up, he didn't even think about it as he approached his brother's bedroom. He sat down on the bed, his head in his hands, inhaling the scent that still lingered within the decorated walls. He could hear the rain dropping onto the roof, and he shut his eyes tightly as he clenched his fists. Maybe, if he just concentrated hard enough, he could go to another place, another time, somewhere, anywhere. A place where he could see his brother again, tell him everything he had never told him simply because they had all the time in the world. And anyway, there was no need for words, no need to express how they felt. It was a wordless language they spoke to each other, the kind of magic only twins could discover.

But there had been words. Then, back in the castle.

'Take care, little bro.'

'Hey, we're twins in case you've forgotten! You're not…'

'I'm 5 minutes older than you, George, and don't you try to deny it!'

'Whatever. Just… look after yourself, will you?'

'I will, and so will you. I want the shop to re-open this week!'

'Sure.' Silence. A hug.

'And George…'

'Hey, there are Death Eaters waiting for us!'

'…I'll never forget that. Never.'

The rain was falling harder, and it seemed to George as if Heaven was crying, the raindrops mingling with his tears that were streaming down his face. Heavenly tears flooding the streets below to wash the pain away, but he was here, and nothing in the world could take away the pain inside. And he wasn't sure if he could take the pain on his own, but for the first time in his life, George didn't have anyone to share his pain with. Because the one with whom he had shared everything was gone, and he was left alone.

Lost in the darkness
Hoping for a sign
Instead there's only silence
Can't you hear my screams?

(Within Temptation, "Somewhere")