A/N: Okay, so firstly I have to say thank you thank you thank you for all the lovely reviews you guys left! Unfortunately the last three days have been extremely hectic for me what with assignments and exams, so I haven't been able to respond but I promise that I will. Now, secondly, the epilogue. Most of you said you wanted to read it, so here it is. But I have to warn you: if you prefer to think of Fred surviving the Battle (much like I do) then DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER. Just completely ignore this chapter. Turn around and don't look back. For those of you still reading… I hope it's somewhat decent, despite it's short length :)

Epilogue

The War was over. Voldemort was defeated. Hogwarts, and the rest of the Magical World, was once again safe from the evil that had threatened to overtake them.

It was the beginning of a new life.

But as the celebrations kicked off, George was only aware of his heartbeat, pounding away in his chest. A constant rhythm, each beat taking him one step further from Fred.

Oh God.

George shut his eyes, trying to erase the image of his twin lying on the floor of the Great Hall, but it was no use. The picture was ingrained into George's mind, forcefully burrowing in his head, embedding itself in his every thought, his every breath.

No. Stop, please stop.

His family was hovering nearby, all pale and grief stricken. Molly has resumed her painful sobs, buried into Arthur's chest. She had tried to hug George before but he had pushed her away, not wanting to be held by anyone other than the one person who would never hold him again. He should have felt guilty; he knew that in any other circumstance he would have, for causing his mother more grief. But he couldn't feel anything, not guilt, not sadness. It was as though a strange numbness had set in, separating him from everyone else, separating him from the pain and for one delirious moment George was sure it was Fred trying to protect him like Fred always did but then-

Don't. Please don't.

He left the corridor his family was standing in, walking until he reached an empty classroom that had somehow survived the attack. Strange, that something as pointless as a classroom should remain standing when his brother- no, George thought as his breath hitched. Don't go there. Don't. George perched himself on a table, bowing his head as he registered the complete silence around him. He was alone. Not just in the room, but in life. For the first time since birth, he was truly alone.

Stop it. Just stop it.

"George?" He heard a tentative voice ask, and he slowly, painfully raised his head to find Charlie standing in front of him.

"Charlie," he muttered, hating the dead quality his voice had, hating the grief etched upon Charlie's, and no doubt his own face, but beyond anything, hating the fact that Charlie had said 'George'. Not 'Fred and George', not 'you two', just 'George'. He looked back down, barely registering that Charlie had sat next to him until he felt a calloused hand upon his shoulder.

"George, I…" Charlie's voice trailed off, not knowing what to say. And to be honest, George didn't know what he wanted Charlie to say, because it didn't seem like there was anything worth saying. There was nothing Charlie could say that would make any sort of difference.

"The others told me what happened."

And George suddenly felt a burning rage in his gut, and he welcomed the anger because it felt good to be able to feel something other than the numbness that had settled in ever since he had seen Fred's body.

"Where were you?" He asked, his voice quiet but dangerous. Charlie didn't look taken aback by the question, if anything, he seemed to have been expecting it.

"George, I-"

"Where were you Charlie? Why weren't you here? What could possibly have been more important that this? We needed you here, our family needed you here. Fred needed you here Charlie, so where the hell were you?" George was on his feet by this point, hands balled into fists, furiously blinking away tears.

"George, listen to me-" Charlie tried to grab George, but George pushed him away angrily, not wanting to feel human contact, not wanting to be comforted by anyone expect Fred. But Fred wasn't there. Fred would never be-

"No!" He roared, overcome with a mixture of emotions. He could feel the sadness, the utter despair beginning to creep in and he forced it down, focusing on the anger. Anger was good. Anger was easy. In a fit of rage, he launched himself at Charlie furiously, pummelling Charlie with his fists. Charlie blocked a fair few, but the majority of George's punches reached their target. After several minutes however, George could feel the rage beginning to leave him, and he let out a choked sob, willing the anger back because he didn't want to have to cope with the pain in his heart.

"Oh George," he heard Charlie whisper and George found himself being pulled into the chest he had just been attacking. He could feel Charlie's heart beating under his shirt, and the knowledge, the injustice that Fred's heart would never beat again struck George with such viciousness that he fell to his knees, clutching at his own chest, failing to fight back the tears that had been threatening to fall.

Make it go away. Please… Fred, please, help me.

He could vaguely sense Charlie kneeling beside him, saying something but George couldn't focus. Charlie's face appeared blurry, as things often did when George had just apparated, but this time it wasn't his ear, this time it was his soul that was in pain and he didn't know how to fix it. He didn't know if he ever could. George let out another choked sob, trying to fight back the pain, clutching at his own shirt and pretending it was Fred's, pretending that Fred was there to comfort him like he had always been.

"George, it'll be alright," Charlie said soothingly but the words didn't help, didn't do a damn thing to make George feel better and the pain only grew worse when he realised that Charlie was avoiding his eyes, avoiding having to look at George because of course he looked just like Fred.

George shakily raised his wand to his heart, muttering the spell he had heard Fred use so many times before when George's head was hurting in a vain attempt to relieve himself of the pain, even if only for a moment, because it was threatening to drag him down and he didn't know if he could fight it off. He didn't know if he wanted to. But the spell did nothing, created to stop physical not emotional pain, and George let out a strangled gasp as he once again realised how alone he felt. He curled up into a ball, pulling his limbs to his chest, as though by making himself a smaller target, the pain would fade.

"George…" Charlie seemed to be searching for something comforting to say but couldn't think of anything. Instead he wrapped his arms around his brother, and George didn't have the energy to push him away.

"He was with me the whole time," George choked out through his tears after several minutes of silence. "Ever since I lost my ear, he protected me and looked out for me."

"I know George, I know," Charlie said sadly, tightening his grip on George.

"And the one time he needed me I wasn't there for him."

Charlie released his hold on George slightly, pulling away so he could look George in the eye.

"Don't say that," he whispered, but George shook his head. "George, you couldn't have done anything."

"Yes I could." George angrily wiped his cheek, soaking his sleeve. "Fred would have found a way. Fred always found a way for me."

"No George, that's not true," Charlie tried to say reassuringly.

"Then how come I'm still here and he's not?"

It's a battle, George. People die. Fred's words came back to haunt George, and he curled up tighter.

"Not you. Not you Fred, you weren't supposed to die. You weren't supposed to-" George choked on his own words, rocking forward slightly, hunching over to block out the world, to block out the pain but it didn't work, the pain was still there and suddenly George felt claustrophobic in the small classroom. His breathing quickened as he struggled out of Charlie's grip and rose to his feet, stumbling towards the door. Ignoring Charlie's calls, George ran out into the corridor, his feet moving rapidly against the floor. He had no real destination, but he knew he had to walk, he had to get out, had to get away from everyone because there was nothing they could do. There was only one person in the world that could comfort him.

So when George found himself standing outside the Great Hall, he was hardly surprised. The hall was almost empty, everyone having gone outside to the grounds to begin proper celebrations. There were only a few mourners lingering about, tears streaming down their faces as they huddled over the bodies of loved ones who had left them. Among them George spotted tiny Dennis Creevy gasping through his tears as he kneeled beside his older brother Colin, and George almost felt a flicker of empathy at the sight but then it was gone, leaving him alone with his own pain once more.

Glancing past Dennis, George immediately spotted Fred, lying at the far end of the hall. He approached slowly, his heart growing heavier every step he took. By the time he reached Fred, his feet were dragging, his nose running, his eyes wet with tears and he was wishing he could feel that numbness again because anything had to be better than this.

Fred almost looked as though he were asleep. Someone had closed his eyes, but his lips were still turned upward in a smile. George quietly knelt beside Fred, staring at his twin. His dead twin.

It was ironic really. Fred had been so worried that he would lose someone in their family, that he would lose George, but in the end he was the one their family lost. He was the one George had lost. George choked back a sob, his fingers moving until they hovered over Fred's hand, resting by his side. He lowered his hand over Fred's, flinching at the contact. Fred's hand was cool beneath his fingers, and George was once again struck by how utterly lifeless Fred was.

Well of course he's lifeless, he's dead, George thought to himself, laughing humourlessly before he realised the full consequence of his thought. His laughter turned to a sob, and within a few seconds George found himself curled up beside Fred's body, wishing with all his heart that Fred was there to comfort him, to give him a long warm hug before shoving him away and calling him a sap because that was what Fred did.

"Come back," he whispered quietly into Fred's ear, tears streaming sideways down his face. "Please come back Fred." I need you.

But George's pleas went unanswered.