Sitting with his family at the Gryffindor table, George Weasley had never felt more alone.

Yes, he was part of a large group, eight strong among the rabble of the Great Hall, and yes, that group was united. However, it was grief that united them, grief mixed with a dash of relief it was all over, and a very small measure of euphoria that Voldemort had been defeated. However, grief was undeniably the dominant emotion, because no matter how many times George counted his family members - even accounting for the fact that Ron was elsewhere with Harry - he always came up one short.

Fred was not there.

Ginny was there, her head on their mother's shoulder, tears streaming silently down her face. Bill was there, with Fleur, his battle-scarred face weary and drawn. Charlie was there, drumming the table with his fingers, a nervous twitch that used to annoy the living daylights out of Fred and George when they were younger. Percy was there, his glasses broken, not bothering to fix them; he was staring vacantly at the wall beyond. And his parents were there, silent, stoic, their grief clearly mingled with relief that eight of their family had survived.

He knew where Fred was – his body, along with the others who had died as a result of the battle, was in a chamber off the Great Hall. George had seen him there, his eyes vacant and unseeing, the ghost of a smile still on his face. He had died in the middle of making a joke, of welcoming Percy back to the family, and now that emotion would be forever etched on his features, a ghostly reminder of what he had been.

Fred had never been quiet this long in his life, George thought vacantly, remembering the crash that had silenced his brother. Then he looked at the table, humbled, horrified by his last thought. Fred was quiet, he thought fiercely, because he was no longer alive.

It's not fair, he thought angrily, kicking the table leg by his feet. Why did Fred have to be the one to die? Why couldn't it have been me? Fred should be here now, he should be sitting here with us, he should be making inappropriate jokes about the battle and the survivors in the way that only Fred could. He should be here …

None of the Weasleys spoke. It was like there was a silent understanding among them that this was to be their tribute – silence in Fred's memory. And they were all suffering, but George was sure that he suffered the most, not because he was more deserving but because Fred had been like a part of him.

That was it, he understood suddenly. Now that enough time had passed for it to settle in, he knew that that gaping hole he felt was truly because Fred had held that place in him, that as twins they had shared a bond that no one else could penetrate. Even Lee hadn't been able to get inside that part of the relationship, despite being an honorary twin in so many ways. Part of George was Fred, just as part of Fred was George. And now, that link was broken, and could never be repaired.

George felt someone squeeze his shoulder, and looked up with damp eyes to see Bill giving him a small smile. Bill had an idea of how he must feel, he thought, and he tried to return the smile, but even that was asking too much of his facial muscles. Smiling would have to wait, he realised. Before he could do that, he would need something to smile about.

He knew that there should be some joy in his heart. While there had been casualties, they were fewer than they might have been and Harry had even come back from the dead to take Voldemort out in what was really one of the most anti-climatic duels ever seen. There had been more talk than actual fighting in that duel, and then one spell each had been enough to finish it. The implication, though, was huge – the Dark Lord, who had been ruining their lives for the past year, was dead, and the Death Eaters either killed or taken in by the authorities. He understood that very few had escaped. Light had defeated dark, just as the sun was rising (he would appreciate that symbolism more when he was less in shock and mourning, he thought), and victory was theirs. The wizarding world was now safe.

So, in that jubilation of victory, why did he feel so hollow, so empty? Dozens of people had died and he wasn't mourning them. Not even Lupin and Tonks, who he'd been fond enough of while they'd lived, though he might mourn them more later too. No, his heart was broken on the death of one man, so early in the battle that they'd barely even started to fight.

Silently George stood up from the table and walked slowly to the chamber off the Hall where the dead were being kept. If anyone from his family saw him leave, they left him be, possibly understanding that this was something he needed to do alone. Even Lee, who he saw out of the corner of his eye, started towards him and then stopped. He was grateful for the solitude. This was just between him and Fred.

Closing the door behind him, George took a deep breath and found the body of his brother, not far from the end wall. His eyes had been closed now, but the hint of laughter was still written on his face, and George felt himself match Fred's expression, his mouth twitching upwards in the threat of a smile.

"I'm trying to say goodbye, Fred," he said hoarsely, the words sticking in his throat, making him force them out. "You should be out there, celebrating with the rest of them. Now I have to try to figure out how I'm going to do that without you."

He paused, his eyes following the wounds the falling masonry had left on his brother's body. No one would have survived that, he thought. Even Hagrid would have struggled. Unsure if he was taking solace in this thought or not, he looked back at Fred's face.

Fury erupted out of him, taking even him by surprise. "How could you DO this to me, Fred?" he asked, his voice loud with previously unexpressed anger and betrayal. "How could you leave me alone like this? You KNOW that I can't do this without you." He took a breath and the rage dissipated almost as quickly as it had come, leaving him exhausted and resigned.

Swallowing hard, he spoke once more, this time sounding quiet and feeble as his despair engulfed him.

"You see, Fred, that's just it. That's the problem." He paused, staring at his twin's vacant face for the last time. "I can't do anything without you."