A/N: This one takes place 24 hours after the last.

It has been the worst day of his life. Charlie crawls into bed and wishes he could sigh with relief, but his chest still feels tight, and he rolls onto his pillow and squeezes his eyes shut. The problem with that, of course, is that the minute he closes his eyes, he sees everything he wishes he could forget.

The morning is cold when he wakes up. He forgets for a split second why he is at home, why he is in his own bed, and then he remembers, and a pit settles in the bottom of his stomach. He can't do this. He just can't.

He is still lying there when there is a knock on his door. He doesn't answer. Maybe if he just pretends to be asleep, they'll leave him there. He doesn't realize that the person who is knocking is Bill and that he won't take no for an answer.

And then Bill is in his room, and Charlie knows he has no choice. He stares up at his older brother blearily, and while Bill seems like he's drawn himself up to shout, he takes one look at Charlie's face, and he just deflates. Sitting down on the edge of his bed in his formal dress robes, he slumps over and rests his head in his hands.

Charlie doesn't want to look at him. He wishes he could pull the pillow over his head and hide, but then Bill is sniffling, and he knows he has no choice. He sits up with a sigh and moves to where his older brother now has his hands now completely covering his face. Charlie puts his arm around him, and for a moment, Bill tenses up so much that Charlie is afraid he's going to haul off and hit him. But then, just like he knew would happen, Bill collapses against him as his shoulders start shaking violently.

"Sshhh," Charlie tries to whisper. "It's going to be ok."

It isn't, though. And he knows it. He has to blink quickly even while he keeps his arms around his brother. He has to hold on. If even Bill is falling apart – and so early, too – he has no choice.

But then he is sitting in the front row of too many rows of chairs, and he can hardly breathe. The service hasn't even started yet. This isn't good. He wants to take deep breaths, but he's afraid that people will hear him. If they hear him, then they'll know.

When the wizard starts to talk and uses words like "hero" and "fighter," he starts to feel a little calmer. Because as much as he's proud of his family's role in this war – and Fred, of course, in particular – these are never words he's associated with his little brother. He just has to keep his eyes away from that… thing. If he looks at it and thinks about what's inside, then he has no chance.

As the speech seems to start wrapping up, Charlie starts to breathe more easily. It's got to be almost over. It's just got to. If it's almost over, then he'll have made it through in one piece. But… oh, this can't be happening.

It's George. George, who hasn't said a word to anyone in days, is walking to the front of the crowd with a piece of parchment clutched tightly in his hand. His eyes are still dazed, but he faces everyone, holds up the parchment and starts to read.

And that's when Charlie knows he's lost. Because not only is he having trouble breathing, but now his eyes are burning, and he can't even see his brother. He wants to cover his face, but then everyone will know. He blinks as fast as he possibly can, but as George continues to speak, his voice starts to shake, and then even blinking's not working anymore. The tears are spilling down his face, and he finds himself bending almost in half as he buries his face in his knees, his arms wrapped around them. He feels hands on his back, patting him, and he knows it's Ginny and probably Bill, but he can't sit up; he can't do anything but concentrate on breathing.

It isn't until the entire service is over that he finally manages to sit up again. The only people left are himself and George, and George is staring at him. His face is white and tired, and his eyes are dry but shocked. Charlie knows that the shock is because of his own tears. Well, he's not surprised. He doesn't cry, and all of his siblings know it. He tries to smile at George, but he knows it looks much more like a grimace, so he stops immediately.

He realizes it must be time to go to the graveyard, so he stands up and walks over to where George is still sitting and still staring at him, but as he gets closer, he also sees that George is shivering.

"Are you ready to go, mate?" he almost whispers, because he still doesn't trust his voice, but George shakes his head quickly.

"I don't want to," he rasps, and his voice sounds like gravel. He looks down, and Charlie slowly lowers himself into the chair beside him. But now George isn't looking at him anymore, and Charlie hardly knows what to do. He wishes desperately for one of their parents to come back or for Bill to come looking for them, but minutes pass; no one comes, and Charlie realizes that if he doesn't say something – and fast – George is going to miss the burial, and then things will be worse than they already are – if that's even possible.

He clears his throat and stands up.

"Come on," he says, and he takes George's arm and tugs gently, hoping to pull him to his feet. To his surprise, it works – for a moment. And then George's knees buckle, and he is falling back to his seat, and Charlie is going with him.

George is bright red now, and he can't look at his older brother.

"Just – just leave me here," he mutters, his voice anguished as he turns away, but Charlie knows this is not an option.

"If you're not going, I'm not either," he says quietly. He watches his brother stiffen, and then George turns back at last, and now his face is twisted as if he's staring into the sun.

"Don't make me do this," he pleads, and his voice breaks. The tears he has been desperately trying to fight are now brimming in his eyes, and he swallows hard against the lump in his throat.

Charlie knows now what he needs to do, and he puts both arms around him as George starts to cry at last, his sobs wracking his whole body. Charlie sighs, but his breath catches, and then he's crying too. It's a long time before either of them calms down, and then, without another word, they go.

Stupidly, he thinks he's gotten it out of his system. And he's ok for most of the service. But then the coffin gets lowered into the ground, and he hears a noise he never remembers hearing before. He turns without thinking, and he sees it, the one sight he's always hoped to avoid. His father is crying. The lump that seems to have taken up permanent residence in his throat is back, and he feels like he's choking. He doesn't know how much longer he can stand there when, mercifully, it's over.

He is the first to get back to the house. He is the first to help his mother bring things in and out of the kitchen. He is the first to welcome people and the first to see them off. And he is the first to go to bed that night.

Charlie opens his eyes again, and he wipes his face on his sleeve. Why sleep, he wonders, if this is the world he'll wake up to in the morning.