AN: Shouldn't be much surprise what happens here. I do not own the song Om morgendagen aldri kommer, the norwegian band Picazzo do, I just did a translation.

The end

George took his seat with his wife and two children. It was a right cluster on the Hogwarts grounds with students, teachers and civilians who had met up for the twentieth anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. They were seated on the third of what must be hundreds of rows of wooden chair.

George felt uncomfortable in his suit, it was a warm and sunny day, and he saw his son tugging at his own tie. As Angelina shot a glance at the boy, George covered her hand with his as a distraction. It worked, she gave him a smile not fully covering her sadness. He returned it weakly as the people around them fell quiet, the only thing he heard was Fleur's soft sniffing beside him and he wished she could stop that too.

Harry stepped up on the dais in front of Dumbledore's tomb and the lake, every eye landed on him as he cleared his throat and leaned closer to the microphone. "We're here today," he began slowly. "To honour and remember the fallen in the second Wizard War. Many of you here today wasn't born, but I still ask you to take this time to contemplate the sacrifices made so you can grow up in a safe world. To those of us who do remember... The sacrifices wasn't in vain." A somber atmosphere had laid it's hands over the masses, no one dared as much as blink too loud. "First, Dominique Weasley will..." He seemed lost for words. "Here's Dominique Weasley," he said flatly and scuffled off the stage to be replaced by a fourteen year old girl with long blonde hair with a red tint.

"Hello. I wanted to honour the ones lost and the ones left. This I will do with a song," she announced and George heard she was nervous. He understood her, it had to be over a thousand people present. "I got help with translating it by my aunt Kay, so... I choose it because it capture the feelings left after the war and..." She didn't find any more words, but motioned for the music to start as she took the mic in her hand. Angelina stroke her thumb over her husbands hand and he returned it with a soft squeeze. The melody was soft and slow and the girl drew her breath to begin singing.

"I'm sitting here alone,

So meditative,

An no one know how well what that means,

To miss the one to love and admire,

Again the painful truth,

I hope we never learn the answer,

Change can come so all too soon,

And tomorrow's plans crumbles,

In a fight where nothing makes sense."

George got startled by how the words hit his heart like a spear. A single tear ran down his freckled cheek, but he didn't wipe it away. He would have sworn the breeze ruffling his fringe actually was a pale hand where he felt the fingers to his forehead.

"And if tomorrow never comes,

And I quietly pass away,

What memories will you keep,

What do you remember me for,

In the future,

What images will be left,

And cause you joy or tears,

If life could be so cruel,

And tomorrow never comes."

It become too much, the words ripped him apart. The pain laid like a thick fog on his body when he stood up and brushed past Fleur and Bill, half-running towards the castle. No attempt was made at stopping him, they just glanced back until he entered the castle.

He could still hear the music, just barely and was glad the words wasn't able to make out. The wall was cold to his back and he took several deep breath. He had to do it now. It wasn't like he hadn't planned it, he had just not got as far as the exact time. He began climbing the stairs, holding his head down in case a ghost or portrait made contact. His feet knew the way and he soon looked at that wall. It was visibly rebuilt, some of the stones much smoother than the centuries-old originals.

He sat down against it, more or less on the spot his twin had died two decades earlier. If he closed his eyes and concentrated, he could feel it. An invisible fist to his arm. A soft slap to the hole in his head. Yeah, it was all still a joke to Fred. Two identical grins formed, it was time.

George had to open his trousers to get out the knife and sheet of paper he had strapped to his thigh. When he was properly clothed again, he stared at the blade for a while, it was his beloved wife's best steak knife, always kept at its sharpest. The note had to be unfolded, revealing his attempt at making his writing legible for once. It wasn't too bad and he placed it on the floor a couple of feet away.

He took of his blue tie and hurled it further away, even though it had been a birthday present from his daughter, he could barely stand having anything around his neck. Regretting the action, he accioed it back and placed it beside the note. He opened the two top buttons of his shirt, the shadow of a laughter gliding through the air.

As he gripped the handle of the knife again, he recalled some of the last words he and Fred had shared.

"This is mental, watch your back for Godric's sake!" Fred had shouted at him over his shoulder.

"I'm a little busy making sure someone doesn't curse your arse off," he had retorted and sent a hooded figure flying.

"Well, Mum would murder me if I let you die, so watch out!" The last was shouted as they both had ducked a curse and ran down a littered corridor.

"Fine, you watch my arse, I watch yours and Mum murders us both," George had concluded as he fled doubled over from a flock of Death Eaters. They had paused for a moment behind a gargoyle before Fred continued, George soon after.

Now George sat alone against the once-collapsed wall. It was time, he had tried life without Fred too long and a reunion was much overdue. His hand didn't even shake.

The speeches was done, the handkerchiefs cried in and the sun had began setting. The Weasley clan had gathered in the middle of the grounds, the youngest children running off some energy.

"Where's Uncle George?" Louis asked his father, who furrowed his brows before shaking his head.

"Dunno. Anyone seen George?" he asked louder. No one had and a subtle worry grew between the adults.

"Maybe he's eating," Ron suggested, knowing it was a slim change for seeing his brother among the students in the Great Hall.

"The kitchens in that case," Charlie corrected him. "I'll go check." He began striding towards the castle with a knot of worry in his stomach.

"What about the common room?" Ginny said, shifting her feet nervously. They all knew what could have happened, but tried keeping their spirits up. George was considered all better, as long as he had his pills.

"How would he get in?" Hermione asked mostly to contribute with something.

"We're talking about George here, he'll find a way," Bill said. "I think we should fan out to find him as quickly as possible."

They all agreed, the only left was Molly to watch over the kids. She wanted to help too, but couldn't bear the scene they may discover.

None of them found him, instead a poor 4th year Ravenclaw-girl passed him and fired off a series of screams causing Angelina, Kevin and Audrey to come running.

"Aw, did he have to do it so messy?" Kevin said as she looked down on George, knife in one hand, the other palm turned towards the ceiling as an offering of peace. And the blood.

The blood that had cascaded from his slit throat and over his shirt. Sending him out of this world when there was no more to be pumped through his body. She knelt down and closed his eyelids with shaking fingers.

Angelina was rooted to the floor as her eyes travelled over the man she loved, the father of her children and at last she saw the letter he had left. She picked it up and the two other women huddled around her to read.

"Dear everyone!

You see what I have done. I didn't have a choice, not in the end. Almost poetical, isn't it? The place and time, I mean.

Angelina, I'm sorry to do this to you and the kids. I understand that you are angry and think I don't love you. But I do, you're the sole reason I kept going all these years. Please don't hate me.

To use a cliché, I'm in a better place now.

To the family: same applies to you, don't hate me and don't cry your eyes out too long, it won't bring us back. I want to be remembered, not mourned.

The first twenty years of my life, it was always our life, mine and Fred's. We devoted it to put smiles on others and have a good time. The last twenty years haven't been like that, something obvious have been missing. Now we're together again.

And the boring stuff about the fun: thirty percent of the shop's ownership falls to my amazing Angie, another thirty percent to Ronnie-kins, who surprisingly got a knack for business, ten percent goes to each of my wonderful children and the last twenty to my dear mother. (Sorry we were such brats growing up, I never got a chance to apologising before.) Feel free to do whatever the heck you want with your share, but I hope Mum will cash in on the money.

I'll say hi from all of you, see you in a long, LONG time.

George."

Angelina's tears hit and obscured some of the words a bit. Audrey had put her arm around her, but no one said anything as she lowered the letter again and looked at her husband. He was still beautiful in her eyes, even though his face was ashen and his limbs stiff. As she took in his features for the last time someone walked up behind them.

"No..." Bill said quietly, a small relief spreading in his chest, his brother could finally rest. The rest of the siblings with their spouses joined slowly, as if drawn there by an invisible force. For a long time they all stared at the body, several holding around each other, but no one spoke. Not even when the faintest echo of two laughters soared through the air.