The hospital wing was full. Beds lined every wall, and more floated in the center of the room. No wonder Fred decided to help out here, George thought, now I just need to find him.

"Excuse me; do you know where my brother is?"

"Which one, George?" replied Madam Pomfrey "After all there are so many of them."

George marveled at how she could make a joke while tending so many people. He had thought that only he and Fred could make everything a joke.

"I'm looking for Fred. My mum said he was here, and since we were going to leave to go back to the Burrow I wanted to find him. We can't leave him behind." George smiled.

"Oh, George. Don't you know what happened?"

"What do you mean?" Madam Pomfrey must be talking about the thing George couldn't, wouldn't, remember.

"Fred died, George. You know that, I know you know that."

"No, you're lying! Fred is here helping out he's fine! Just show me where he is so I can go." Fred was fine, he had to be fine. Fred dead, that was unthinkable.

"Come George."

Madam Pomfrey led George to the back of the hospital wing. Row upon row of bed were laid out, the sheets tucked in neatly. The occupants of the beds lay unmoving. Lupin, Tonks. Her hair was still pink. That would have made her happy, thought George. Now Madam Pomfrey taking Georges hand, steering him towards a bed in the corner, the man lying there had red hair. No. He couldn't have red hair. That couldn't be. There must be something wrong. George heard Madam Pomfrey say something, he didn't know what. He couldn't hear. Something was wrong with his ear. Something must be wrong with his eyes too, because what he was seeing could not possibly be real. George sank down to his knees, holding the hand of the red-head lying there. He felt someone place a hand on his shoulder, whisper to him, try to get him to stand up and leave. But he couldn't move. He couldn't do anything but sit there, holding Fred's, hand and crying. Because Fred would not be coming home with George.

"Harry, we're leaving now."

"I'm not coming Ron."

"What do you mean you're not coming? Mum was so worried this morning, when she couldn't find you."

Harry turned slowly to face Ron.

"I can't go back with you."

"And why exactly is that, I'd like to know?"

Harry didn't answer. What could he say; I can't come with you because I'm afraid Ginny will hate me? Afraid you and your family will blame me for Fred's death? Because I will not be able to see the Weasley, especially Molly, without blaming myself for every bit of worry and pain I have caused you in seven years?

"Well?"

Harry shook his head.

"What does that mean, Harry? I didn't ask you a yes or no question." Ron sounded exasperated.

"I'm not coming with you."

"It's not really an option, mate. I know you're beating yourself up. If you don't come with us, you'll have another thing to feel guilty about, making my mum worry about you even more."

"Blackmail, now?" Harry knew he had lost. "I'll come. Where's Hermione?"

Ron was triumphant. "She's at the hospital wing. Don't worry, she isn't hurt. She's trying to get George to leave."

"Why won't George leave?"

"He won't leave Fred's side. He was kind of in denial about Fred dying." Ron looked close to tears. "Kind of like you were after Sirius, you know, died."

Harry didn't know what to think. "So what do we do now?"

"Let's go back to the Great Hall. Charlie and Percy are there. We'll just to wait." Ron turned, and as Harry followed him, walked out, towards the Great Hall.

Draco sat quietly, watching people move about and comfort each other. The Hall was crowded, yet no one came near where Draco sat, alone. He knew he should try to help, apologize. But an apology would mean nothing. It was just empty words. Not many people had even glance at Draco since the battle. But the few glances he had received were full of unconcealed hatred.

"Draco, baby…" Narcissia whispered.

"Don't call me that." Draco couldn't bear to look at his mother. He knew what he would see. A tear-stained face, full of worry, yet so relived that Draco was alive. Draco couldn't stand it. He didn't feel guilty. He hadn't killed anyone. But he couldn't stand to think that his mother was worried about him. When you worry about someone it means you love them. You don't allow someone you love to be put in danger. Narcissia had apologized many times throughout the morning for not protecting Draco from the Dark Lord. She said "He would have killed me!" But, thought Draco, Potters parents were in the same position, and they gave up their lives to defend him. That's another thing Potter has that I don't. Love.

"We should go home." Narcissia continued "settle back in."

"I'm not going back, mother. Not to that place."

"Then where will you go?" Narcissia worried.

"I'll stay here; help out, if anyone will let me." Draco said scornfully.

"Why wouldn't people let you help out? And I'll stay too then."

"No! Mother, I just need you to leave me alone for a little. As for why they wouldn't let me help, don't you see that everyone blames us?" Draco spoke quietly "and they have every right to blame us." He added.

"Fine, you don't want me. I'll go then. See that the house is thoroughly cleaned before you come back." Narcissia was crying now.

I'm never going back Draco thought. "You do that, Mother."

Narcissia stood up and nodded tightly. She turned and walked out of the Great Hall. Stares followed her. If anything Draco now felt even worse than he had felt before.

AN: Review, review! I would appreciate 5 reviews before I post the next chapter, but if I don't get them, I will post anyway. Thank you!