Author's Note: Here is Scene Five. This one is another one of George and Charlie mourning Fred. I hope you like it and please let me know what you think! I really appreciate any feedback I get.

DISCLAIMER: I am not JK Rowling. I do not own any Harry Potter characters, I am merely taking them out to play.

Let Me Heal on My Own

The breeze felt cool against his sweaty forehead. He took a deep shaky breath and ran his trembling fingers through his short red hair as he leaned forward against the porch railing. He ran his hands down his freckled face and rubbed his brown eyes before folding his arms across his broad chest. The garden was blissfully empty and dark except for the faint light spilling from the kitchen windows behind him. It had been too bright inside, too hot, too crowded. There were too many people with too big of smiles and too loud of voices. It had all just been too much. He had had to get out before he cracked. So he came out here to get some space and fresh air. He could hear their muffled voices carrying on their conversations, he had known no one would notice if he slipped out.

Well, almost no one.

The door behind him creaked and he glanced over his shoulder to find his older brother Charlie in the doorway, "Hi," the newcomer mumbled quietly.

George didn't answer, he just turned back to stare out at the vast darkness before him. Charlie, never one to taken hints, came to stand beside his younger brother and lean on the porch railing in an identical fashion. "How are you?" he asked in the same quiet voice.

"Fine," George lied as he stood up straight, walked around his brother, down the few steps, and into the garden.

Charlie wasted no time following, "Really?" he asked as he kept pace with his brother's steps, "Because you're not acting fine."

"Just leave me alone," George mumbled as he continued across the yard. They were out of the light of the house now and the stars were the only source of illumination for their path.

"No," Charlie replied and he grabbed George's arm, forcing him to stop, "you can't run away forever."

"I'm not running away," George replied sharply as he ripped his arm out of his brother's rough grasp.

"Yes you are," Charlie snapped.

"No I'm not," George replied, "I just …" he glanced back at the house and his heart rate quickened, "I just can't," he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, "I can't be in there."

"Why?"

"Because it's too much, it's all too much, all those people,"

"All those people?" Charlie parroted, "that's our family in there."

"I know," said George with a shake of his head, "I just … I want to be alone."

"We've left you alone for long enough," Charlie replied, "Don't you think it's time to start moving on?"

"Moving on?" George cried incredulously, "And just forget all about Fred like everyone else has done? I'm sorry but it's not that easy Charlie."

"Easy? Do you honestly think this has been easy for anyone?"

George shrugged and looked down at the dirt. Of course he knew it hadn't been easy on anyone. But why was it so much harder for him then any of the others?

"No one has forgotten about him," said Charlie gently, "but you can hardly expect us to mourn forever. And no one expects that of you either."

"Well maybe you should."

"George, you have to go on with your life. Fred wouldn't want you to be unhappy like this."

"How would you know what he would've wanted?" George snapped. "You barely knew him!" He knew he was being mean and that wasn't really fair but it was true.

"He was my brother too," Charlie cried defensively.

"That doesn't mean anything. You haven't been here since we were kids and you barely wrote. You didn't know him."

"You're right I haven't been here and I may not have been as close to Fred as you were but I knew him and I know he wouldn't want you unhappy like this."

"Well I can't just forget about him and pretend as though everything is fine when it's not. I miss him Charlie, in ways you'll never understand."

"I know you do," Charlie's voice softened slightly, "I miss him too."

"No," George shook his head and pushed his brother hard on the shoulder. Charlie took a few unsteady steps backward. George felt crowded and he needed space. "You don't understand. You can't possibly understand. You miss him when you think about him - when you come across a photo or a letter or something. I miss him every time I look in the mirror and I think for the briefest of seconds that I'm seeing him. I miss him every night I try to fall asleep without the sound of his breathing. I miss him every time I see something that I know he would appreciate or laugh at. And every time I'm around my friends or our family" he gestured toward the house, "and one of you looks at me as though you've seen a ghost I know it's because you thought I was him."

"Of course we think you're him," said Charlie with half a smile, "You were twins. Most of us spent most our lives trying to tell you two apart."

"Well then you should be glad you don't have to worry about that anymore," said George quietly.

"Don't say that," Charlie snapped angrily, "How could you say that?"

George shrugged and looked down again.

"We all miss him," said Charlie, "we all loved him."

"It sure doesn't seem like it," George mumbled.

"That's because we're moving on with our lives. Why won't you let us help you do the same?" There was desperation in his brother's tone.

George knew he just wanted to help him but – "I don't need help," he replied stubbornly, "I can figure this out on my own."

"But you don't have to," Charlie's voice was pleading, "we can help."

"I don't want you to help," George growled, "I just want to be left alone," and he turned on his heel and walked away, away from the house, away from his family, and toward the unknown.

"George," Charlie called and the pain in his brother's voice made George stop and turn around, "I've already lost one brother," he said in a choked voice, "I can't lose you too."

"It'd be easier for you if I wasn't around to remind you of him."

"Don't say that," said Charlie, "we love you."

George nodded slowly, "You love me?"

"Of course I do."

"Then do me a favor."

"Anything,"

"Let me heal on my own," and he turned and ran away.

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