A/N:- Hey guys! My major apologies for taking so long to update, I have been a bit poorly and also got extreme writers block. Another reason why it has taken me so long is that this chapter means a lot to me and I wanted to do justice on Fred funeral, I actually went into slight mourning when he died. I also took two attempts at this chapter, writing one with no pov which turned out awful and this one which is from Molly's pov. I plan to hopefully update another chapter by sunday. Thank you for all your reviews, they mean so much to me. I would also like to thank Holly, my lovely editor and motiviator, I love you!
Thanks guys, I hope you like it.
Love Amy!
x x x

Disclaimer:- I am not JKR therefore I do not own any aspect of Harry Potter!

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It was really time to go, as much as she didn't really want to leave the safe walls of the old, misshaped Burrow she also couldn't stand to be in the house much longer. It was really time to go.

Dressed in her finest black robes, Molly Weasley felt strangely uncomfortable in the used attire. Although she blamed the clothing Molly knew it was all down to the emotional rough day ahead. Especially for George who was yet to leave his room, she felt his pain, knew his pain, and in her opinion losing a twin was the second worst thing that could happen to anyone, coming in after losing a child and spouse. Molly was so lost in her thoughts that she was surprised when her husband suddenly announced it was time to go.

Although the walk to the make shift Quidditch field, where the Weasley children used to play, was short and Molly was able to walk it with her eyes closed, today it almost seemed as if the field was stretching out from them, never allowing Molly to get close, remaindering her of the nightmares which fill her sleep, only usually Fred is at the end waiting for her to catch up. They walked in silence, none of the breaking their pace. Most of the plans had been made while the Weasley's stayed at Hogwarts, allowing Molly and her husband to somewhat relax when they returned home. However that was not the case, after getting her children to tidy up the Burrow after its ransacking, Molly spent most of her time trying to get everybody to eat, Ron Harry and Hermione to talk, convince Percy none of this was his fault, inform people about the funeral, try to get George out his room and to generally keep busy to block her own pain out.

The edge of the field had been laid out with white chairs lined up, facing a small elevated podium. Molly avoided her eyes away from the already dug hole. Taking in the view in front of her, she wasn't surprised to see so many Hogwarts students. Another thing that added to the stress of the current situation was the debate on whether the other Weasley members should be told details of the funeral, although they had been informed of Fred's death, Molly was unsure on what to do about the outer members of her family, it wasn't until George claimed that Fred wouldn't want any of them there, simply because he didn't truly know who many of them were. As for Muriel she was vetoed straight away.

Molly believed herself to be doing dealing with the loss of her son well, she hadn't cried in front of he children since leaving the Great Hall the night the battle ended. However, she soon lost this front the minute the small wizard who had performed at Bill and Fleur's wedding stood at the podium. She didn't hear what he was saying; she didn't notice her sons, including Harry walk the coffin up the small isle formed by the small split in the seating arrangements and place it on the stand. All she was focused on was her husband's hand holding hers and the irreversible stabbing pain beating in tandem as well as against her heart.

How could she not protect him? How could she let her baby die? She should have kept a closer eye on him, made sure she knew where he was. How could she ever look at George again? To be truthful with herself she wasn't being fair asking the last question, she never saw Fred and George as the same people; they were two separate identities, she only ever followed their tricks of which twin was which because they both marvelled in looking the same. She would never hear him laugh again, never see him sitting with George coming up with new inventions for the shop. Never again would she see him smile, or tell him she loved him or how proud she was of him. She was so wrapped up in these thoughts she didn't even realise tears were running down her face.

It wasn't until she heard a sob behind her that she was brought back to reality, landing with a crash. Charlie never cried, not even when he was baby. Suddenly her reasons for hiding her own personal torture came back her; she needed to be there for her children and husband. They needed her as their mother she needed them to know they could turn to her for help. She knew that she had been lacking in her responsibility be there for her family; she had allowed Bill to take over most the planning for the event currently happening. Made sure Charlie watched over Ron, making sure he stayed near at all time, prettified he would disappear again. She had neglected George and Ginny, leaving them to deal with this unknown, everlasting pain on their own. She has ignored Percy, who had come back to them, back to her; she left him to deal with his brothers and Ginny, not ensuring that he was welcomed back and forgiven by his siblings. She failed to make sure that Harry and Hermione knew they were just as apart of the family as the others were, that she loved them like a son and daughter.

Her husband, however, was on another whole higher level. The one person knew who how she felt and she had pushed him aside. She wouldn't, couldn't talk to him because he knew this feeling too well. She left him deal with his pain on his own when all he wanted to comfort and be comforted by her.

Responding to her Arthur's hand squeezing her own she wiped her tears with her handkerchief and stood with him, walking to the grave to say one more goodbye to her son.