A/N: This will eventually turn into George/Angelina, because they make me smile. Also I tried to make this chapter extra-long to make up for how long it took me to update :/

George sat in his room, staring at his hands. The world swam in front of his eyes, blurred and twisted. He blinked and a tear rolled down his cheek, dropped off of his chin and splashed onto his right hand. He impatiently rubbed his eyes and groaned. He was so tired of crying all the time. He just wanted his brother back. He ran his hands through his hair, then let them drop, slapping against his knees. He lay back on the bed, pulling the blankets up over his head.

George closed his eyes, but that only brought on images of Fred's body, limp in his arms, and feelings of anger, grief, loneliness. He opened his eyes. Lonely. That was a new feeling. Before the battle he had never really been alone. Back when he and Fred were in their fourth year and Fred was starting to pay more attention to girls, George had sometimes craved a bit of time alone. Now, lying in the dark, smothered by his own anguish, George hated himself. Maybe if he had appreciated Fred more they would still be together. Maybe Fred would still be alive.

George rolled onto his side, curling up as tightly as he could. He wrapped his arms around his knees and knotted his fingers together. He slammed his eyes closed, pressing his face into the mattress until everything was quiet and cold and dark.

…

George was running. The forest around him was dark and eerily silent. The only sound he could hear was his heartbeat drumming in his ears, and his gasping breaths. He could see Fred up ahead of him, weaving in and out of the trees. Fred laughed and stopped in front of George. George skidded to a stop, staring at his brother. Fred said something, but George couldn't hear over the pounding of his heart. The forest grew darker, until the blackness swallowed Fred, and George stood alone.

…

Bill, Fleur, and Angelina were in the kitchen when they heard George scream. Bill spilled his tea as he jumped to his feet and ran out of the kitchen. Angelina and Fleur rushed after him. Bill threw George's door open and knelt beside the bed. He tugged the blankets and pillows off of George, who was shaking and crying.

The women stood back as Bill sat on the bed next to George, wrapping his arms around his younger brother. George let out a choked sob and buried his face in Bill's shoulder, fisting his hands in Bill's sweater. Bill shot a panicked glance at Fleur, who wrung her fingers together and backed out of the room, Angelina on her heels.

…

Bill woke the next morning, sprawled out on George's bed, George sound asleep next to him. He sat up and stretched his arms over his head. He looked down at George and smiled sadly. Even when George slept the grief never left his face. Bill got off of the bed and pulled the covers tight around George. When the twins had been younger and Molly had her hands full with the other kids, sometimes Bill would get them ready for bed. He still remembered that both twins loved having the blankets tugged tight around them. He turned away and walked out of the room, closing the door quietly behind himself.

He walked down the stairs and found Angelina and Fleur sitting in the kitchen, sipping tea. Angelina's hair was loose down her shoulders, wavy from the braids she had worn the day before. She nodded at Bill, "Morning."

"Good morning," Bill said, pulling out a seat and joining them.

Fleur slid a cup of tea over to him, smiling. "'Ow did you sleep?"

"Not well," Bill grinned wickedly. "George snores."

George scoffed as he walked into the kitchen, rolling his eyes.

"Okay, so maybe I snore a little also."

"A little?" Fleur muttered.

Angelina and George both laughed softly. George glanced over his shoulder at Angelina, who shot him a smile. He blinked, then turned toward the window.

"George, I thought Mum and Dad could visit today?" Bill said lightly.

George sighed and perched at the edge of the table. His long fingers clutched at the back of a chair, like he was in danger of collapsing. He took a deep shaking breath, then nodded.

…

Molly and Arthur knocked on the door of Shell Cottage. The door was tugged open and Bill stood in the threshold, smiling.

"How is he doing?" Molly asked, giving Bill a brief hug and scanning the front room as if to see if George was hiding in one of the corners.

"He laughed yesterday," Bill said.

"Did he really?" Arthur said, brightening.

"And again this morning!" Angelina called from the living room, where she was talking about Quidditch with Harry and Ron.

"That's wonderful," Molly said breathlessly. Bill led his parents into the living room. They sank onto the couch next to Harry. Molly absently smoothed Harry's hair down as Arthur smiled at Ron. Fleur brought out a tray with tea and biscuits and set it on the table in front of the couch. She sank into one of the puffy armchairs, glancing anxiously at Bill.

"So," Arthur said, "What have you been up to, Angelina?"

"Processing things, mostly," Angelina said. "I've been talking to kids whose families were affected by the war, trying to do my part to help. I decided to come here because I've been worrying about George since… you know. Anyway, I just really need to know that he'll be okay." She sighed and leaned forward, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. "I just want him to be happy again, you know?"

Molly glanced at Fleur, who smiled sadly. Molly and Arthur stiffened as a door slammed upstairs. George walked down the stairs, staring at the floor. He glanced up at his mother and she gasped, "Oh, George."

George walked over to his mother and wrapped his arms around her comfortingly, as though she was the one who had her heart ripped in half and clumsily stitched back together.