And now there's only one…

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Contains spoilers for DH.

It's so very different this time. Ginny sits in the living room again, by the fire, alone again, but this time, her own eyes are red and puffy as she stares into the flames. She is remembering when she had to break the news of Dumbledore's death to her brothers. And while, at the time, that seemed like the most devastating thing any of them would ever have to deal with, none of them would have ever imagined this. Well, that's because this was never supposed to happen.

It's not a question of saying the words this time. Last time, that had been the hard part. This time… it's all the hard part. She remembers sitting in the Great Hall just days ago, her head on her mother's shoulder, her own strong mother heaving with suppressed sobs, and she shudders. Nothing will ever make things right again. As she closes her eyes, she sees George again, sitting at the head of the bench where they had placed Fred, just staring down at him, seeming almost as lifeless as his twin. He hasn't spoken since he'd seen Fred lying there three days ago, and while their mother is obviously distraught over losing one of her children, she also has enough of her wits to be desperately worried about George. She has asked Ginny to keep her eye on him, knowing if there were anyone for whom he would break his silence, it would be his sister.

Ginny closes her eyes as she feels them burning once again. She doesn't know if she wants him to break his silence for her. She doesn't know if she is up to it. It had been hard enough sitting with Harry that night when things finally sank in for him. He'd been so dazed to find himself alive that it wasn't until he'd walked into the Gryffindor common room, the place of so many Weasley twin jokes, that he'd suddenly gasped, and the tears had started to stream down his cheeks. It had just been he and Ginny in the room, so he didn't try to hide them, and she'd had to put her arms around him and hold him, comfort him over the death of her brother while she wondered who would comfort her. She knew he would, but she knew he needed it more at that moment. She knew she could at least hold onto the numbness for a little while longer.

Now the numbness is subsiding. And if it is subsiding for her, she can only imagine what it is doing to George, especially on this night, this night before the final goodbye. He's even indicated that he'll give the eulogy, but he only jerked his head in response when someone had tentatively mentioned it. He, of course, hadn't said a word.

Opening her eyes, she resumes staring into the flames. She is so absorbed by the crackling that she doesn't realize that someone else is in the room with her until she feels the cushion shift beneath her. When she turns her head and finds herself staring into a hole where an ear should be, she somehow isn't as surprised as she thought she'd be. It is the first time George has come to the living room since they'd been back home, but she'd not expected to see him there when it had been crowded with their parents and other siblings.

She remembers when she told him and Fred about Dumbledore, and she knows he is remembering it too. She knows that because she can hear his labored breathing, but he still isn't talking. Neither of them says a word as the minutes pass, and then, just as she is about to leave the room, he stirs.

"Remember when you told us?" he asks. His voice is husky from lack of use and various other reasons that neither of them will mention.

She is careful not to look at him, but she nods, and even though he is not looking at her, she knows he saw it.

"Remember how he was the one to start crying?" he asks again. His voice is a little stronger, and she hopes that maybe he'll be ok. Maybe he's trying to be strong for her. She'll let him too. She wishes someone would be. So far, no one has. Harry fell apart in the common room, and every time she walks past Ron's room, she hears sniffling. She even walked in on Percy and their mother in the kitchen, and Mum was smoothing his hair as the tears dripped into his oatmeal. Charley has been staying with Bill and Fleur; otherwise, she knows she would have seen their grief too.

"Yes," she says. George glances out of the corner of his eye and seems to understand why she won't say more. After a moment, he continues even though she wasn't sure he would.

"I think I would have been ok if he hadn't started crying," he says, and now his voice is even lower. "It's the only thing that's always gotten me, Gin. You know that. I could stand anything but his pain. Now…" he trails off but not before she hears the tell-tale strain in his voice. She still won't look at him, but his breathing is becoming more labored as he struggles to hold himself together for both of their sakes.

"He wouldn't want us to cry, would he?" he asks her. She's the only one he thinks might have the answer he doesn't. "I haven't been because I think he would want us to be laughing, but I can't do that either."

Ginny takes a deep breath and forces her own voice out from somewhere deep within her. "George, I wish I knew what Fred would want." She feels him jerk when she says the name, but she has to. She can't do what everyone else has been doing and not say it. It reminds her too much of when they couldn't say Voldemort, and she doesn't want Fred's name to become something they're too afraid to say… for different reasons, of course.

"What I do know," she continues, her own voice becoming strained, "is that if it had been… if it had been you… do you really think Fred would have been able to keep it together? Do you really think he'd be sitting here laughing right now?"

George doesn't answer her, and after a minute, she slowly turns to look at him fully. He's turned his face away, and his voice is so strained and so low that she think she's mishearing him but knows, with dread, that she isn't.

"I wish he were sitting here with you. I don't… I don't know how to do this without him."

He won't turn to her, but she can feel his trembling, and she does the last thing she wants to do. She stands up slowly and walks around to sit on his other side. He can't turn again, and she knows it. He's done the bare minimum he can think of to prevent his sister from seeing his tears, but they're overflowing now, and he's overwhelmed with everything he's been trying not to think about. He drops his head, his shoulders shaking more violently, and Ginny's own tears are suddenly released although she doesn't even realize it until he looks up and reaches out, brushing one away with a trembling hand.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I didn't want to do that to you." He brushes furiously at his own eyes, but now she reaches out and touches his hand, and he freezes.

"It's ok," she says, her calm voice belying the tears slipping down her face. She reaches out to him, and he falls into her with a wounded sound that she never thought she could hear him make. His shoulders shake violently, and she holds on tightly, finally allowing her own sobs to take her. It's time.