A Pared Pair
Before he was 20, George Weasley had singed off his eyebrows an uncountable number of times (Exploding Snap, jinxes, blown-up, backfiring experiments, and once or twice, just because), fallen off of 2 different broomsticks (once during his first Quidditch match ever, and once on a dark night just before Harry Potter's 17th birthday) and taken a Bludger to the back of the head that he swears still affects him (his vision blurs randomly and without warning, and streaky white lights flash in the corners of his eyes).
So, just a normal range of injuries, obviously, and exactly what one might expect from a boy who was daring and rambunctiousness personified (and squared, but that is rather advanced math, and George just doesn't really feel up to it most days).
When George Weasley was 20, he took a Sectrumsempra to the face that he knows was meant for his father, and lost an ear.
Then, for the next terrifying [exhilarating] year, he was Rapier (and sometimes Rodent), and survived daily Death Eater attacks, as Rapier and Rodent brought news and hope to the beleaguered Wizarding World. He has a few twisted, branching white lines that criss-cross his body, scars from curses Death Eaters fired at his Apparating back.
And he, unlike so many unfortunate others, came through the final battle completely and miraculously [horrifically and unfairly] unscathed. Except...
Except:
GW, student of entropy, disciple of disaster and boy-king of chaos certainly doesn't ever care if he can only find mismatched socks or gloves. Sometimes, you know, it's better to lose one half of a pair-for example, it's easier to chat up girls or be the center of everybody's attention if you're wearing one purple and orange glove, and one zebra-striped glove.
Only twice has he ever minded losing half of a pair: once, when he lost his ear, and once, when he lost his twin.
Without Fred, there is nothing. Jokes aren't funny without Fred to laugh at them, girls aren't pretty without Fred to point them out to, ideas and plans aren't brilliant and dangerous and doable anyway without Fred to gladly agree to them.
People grimace at George sympathetically, when they remember that there used to be another Weasley twin; some clutch their stomachs, imagining the deep, visceral ache that is missing Fred. But then they drop their hands and the imagined ache dissipates and they walk away. George can't walk away (and isn't ever sure that he wants to, because is it worse to live with the hot, sharp memory of his brother who isn't there and never will be again, or to live without it?)
George can't look at Angelina Johnson because he only sees Fred's smile when he thought of her, Fred's plans for their life together and the ridiculous names Fred planned on giving to their imaginary children.
He can't stay at the Burrow, because he only sees Fred scampering up the stairs or plotting to get Percy in trouble or tossing gnomes over garden walls, cheering when they bounced.
He can't visit Hogwarts, because he only sees Fred falling backwards, laughing uproariously for the last time in his life.
He can't fly, because instead of watching where he is going he only sees his brother flying behind him, and only hears Fred's voice cheering him on. So, he crashes his broomstick, and sometimes he could have saved himself (he and Fred were, after Harry, the best fliers on the Gryffindor Quidditch team) but he doesn't, because he doesn't see danger or feel pain without Fred.
Because being without Fred is pain, and there is nothing worse. Being without Fred is pain, and there is nothing else.
People tell George that it will get better, that the sadness and the despair and the savage, crushing pain will fade, as the years pass.
Almost three years after Fred's death, Angelina marries Allistair Davies, and whispers to George as he kisses her cheek that she will name her first son after his brother. But she smiles as she walks down the aisle toward Davies, and George has to leave the church before they say their vows to each other. He can't listen to the girl his brother loved promise himself to another man.
It takes almost a decade before Molly Weasley stops accidentally or absentmindedly calling George by his twin's name; it takes more than nine years for Fred's mother to finally realize that Fred is not coming back.
So, now, when she knits him sweaters she doesn't put a 'G' on the front, because there is no longer anyone to confuse him with, and when she tells him a story that starts with "your brother" it doesn't automatically mean Fred. It could be any of George's brothers, except one.
Except for George, Molly is the last person to accept that Fred Weasley died on that day in May, with his wand in his hand and a smile on his face. But she does finally accept it, and she heals herself as best as mother who has lost a child can, and moves forward with the rest of her life.
But George cannot lift himself out of the hole that Fred's death has made in his life. He cannot move on or past it or forward. He is lessened without his twin, and he wakes up everyday looking for his brother, only to realize again that Fred is dead and that death, even for Wizards, is final. Every night, he dreams that his brother is alive, and every morning, he forgets, as he rises out of sleep, that this is just a dream. And, every morning, when he opens his eyes, and the awareness of being without Fred hits him, it feels, every day, like he has lost Fred all over again. For George, Fred dies every morning, over and over again.
George Weasley used to have a left ear. Now he has a hole. Also, he used to have a twin. Now, he just has a hole.