Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and will never make any money out of this WHATSOEVER!

A/N: After the War the Weasley family are reeling from Fred's death, from the point of view of George, Ron and Percy – following the twists and turns of their life as they learn to live without. NOT SLASH! Rated M for some explicit language and dark themes. Will contain references to self-harm and suicide, so could be triggering. Keep yourself safe and I hope you enjoy :)
I wouldn't mind a review (or 20) ;)

This Chapter is in Ginny's POV.

Tttrrriiiiiikkk! Ttttttrrrriiiiiiiikkk!

"Shut up." I flicked a small piece of spellotape at the owl that had positioned itself on the work top near the sink and had been tweeting since it arrived almost an hour ago…

Tttrrrriiiiiikk! Tttttrrrriiiiiiiiiik!

"I said shut up!" I repeated more loudly at it; it waggled it's leg ferociously at me even more loudly. It had a letter attached to its leg, a letter I had already checked and knew it was addressed to Ron.

Tttttrrriiiiiiik!

"Okay, alright!" I sighed, placing down my quill on the kitchen table and standing up.

Tttttrrrrrrrriiiiik!

"Shut up! I can't get this letter off your leg if you're making that racket!" I told the owl off and it instantly clamped its beak shut so I could untie the letter hooked quite firmly to its leg. Once I had severed the cord that connected the owl's leg and the piece of parchment, the owl began hopping up and down on the spot; wanting to be let free again. "Alright! You couldn't be more impatient if you tried!" I picked up the small owl, opened the window above the sink and practically launched the owl out of it before it could start twittering at me again. I put the letter addressed to Ron on the kitchen table, on top of the piles of various books and assorted scraps of parchment; and sat down at where I had been at the table.

I attempted to go back to what I had been doing, but the letter kept drawing my eye from the other side of the table… who would be writing to Ron? Who would send him a letter? It was a bit strange… most of the people knew he would see at some point or another so there would be no need for them to write to him… I realised that I had been staring at the handwriting on the parchment; it looked familiar for some reason, but I couldn't quite place it…

Ron had been gone for quite a while now – he had left early this morning to go and visit Percy. I wasn't sure whether he was going to visit Hermione after he left St. Mungos, but even if he was going to I hadn't expected him to be this long. My quill was held above my own piece of parchment for so long as I stared at the letter than I had allowed the ink to drop off the tip of the quill and create several large blots. I laid my quill down when I realised what I had done, and attempted to get rid of the four very large splodges… but I couldn't stop thinking about that letter… one little look wouldn't hurt… I could always reseal it afterwards and Ron wouldn't be any the wiser…

But it was addressed to Ron, and he shouldn't be much longer now – what if he arrived back and caught me reading it? I was still trying to figure out, who would be writing to Ron? Not Harry, I knew exactly what Harry's handwriting looked like… Hermione definitely didn't have a scrawl like that, (and why would Hermione write to Ron? She practically lived at the Burrow while we weren't at school… ) so who's handwriting was it?

One look would do no harm! I laid down my quill and wiped the ink off my hands with a towel so I wouldn't leave any inky fingerprints on the scroll. I slid my finger under the seal and flicked it open. There were only two sentences on the parchment:

'Ron,

Sorry for throwing those cups at your head. I'm not really sure why I did it. George.'

I stared down at the note – that's why I had recognised the handwriting, it was George's! Although it looked more shaken and untidy than what his handwriting used to look like. George had sent Ron a letter to apologise for throwing cups at Ron's head the last time he had visited; why hadn't he just said that to his face? Then again, Ron hadn't gone back since that incident – he kept saying he wanted to give George enough time to calm down. It seemed like he had calmed down now, he would expect Ron to visit him when he got this letter… that's probably why he had sent it. I tapped the parchment once with my wand and it resealed itself. I placed it back down on top of the pile I had picked it up from and went back to my work. However now I couldn't concentrate on my work even more! I was now thinking about George and why he had sent the letter…

After another ten minutes of staring blankly at the letter sitting sealed again, moving my quill up and down in my fingers and thinking deeply. Very suddenly I made up my mind, standing up and sending my ink bottle flying (I was glad there wasn't an awful lot left still in the bottle); I picked up my jacket from next to the door and left.

Bang, bang, bang!

I rubbed the side of my hand that I had just thumped on the door with, and waited expectantly for George to answer. Once I was sure that I had been stood there for over a minute I decided to knock again;

Bang, bang, bang!

There was a loud clatter from behind the door and it opened a fraction of an inch. I could see one of George's eyes peering out through the crack that he had opened; even from the tiny bit of him I could see he looked awful… There was a dark circle under his eye and the surrounding skin looked pale and waxy; he reminded me of what Lupin used to look like on the few days that followed the full moon… exhausted, beaten down – I registered the shock that flitted into his eye when he saw me.

"Ginny?" He opened the door a couple more inches wider and I could see past him into the pitch black room, where all the lights were turned off and the curtains were pulled shut. "Why… why are you here?" Halfway through him speaking I pushed past him and into his flat, seeing as it was clear he wasn't going to invite me in. George snapped the door shut pretty quickly behind me. I tried to think what to say to his question; I couldn't say that I had read the note he had sent to Ron and decided to come and see him… so instead of answering, I skirted around the question.

"Did I wake you up?" I asked, moving over towards the window.

"No." George replied instantly.

"Then what are you doing sitting in the dark?" I pulled the curtains apart fiercely, and saw George flinch considerably when sunlight flooded into the room. He looked much worse when there was light in the room, maybe that was why he was hiding in the dark. I could see that his eyes were following me as I moved away from his window. His hair looked clean, like it had been washed recently (which had to be a good sing); he was dressed more smartly than what I would expect for him if he was going to be on his own inside his flat all day. He was dressed relatively smartly and looked clean, maybe it was a sign that he was improving…

"Are you going out somewhere?" I asked quickly, noticing that his feet were bare and his shoes were in an untidy heap over by the door.

"No." He answered sharply, but there was an undertone in his voice which made it sound like something was not quite right. "Why are you here?" He repeated, but his voice was even shakier this time.

"I'm your sister!" I flicked my hair over my shoulder and stared at him. "Am I not allowed to visit my brother if I so wish?" He shifted in an uncomfortable manner and became suddenly interested in his feet.

"I suppose…" He shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. There was a silence as he stood there – hands in pockets, staring at the floor.

"Well? Are you going to make me a cup of tea, or do I have to make it for myself?" I asked him, not waiting for him to respond I moved to go towards the kitchen.

"I… I don't have any milk…" He cut in quickly, I paused and looked at him; he had sounded so defeated when he said that.

"It's alright… I'm fine without milk." He followed right behind me into the kitchen and stood mutely as I put the kettle on. "Do you want one?" I indicated to a mug, he shrugged; I took that as a yes, turned a mug over and placed a tea bag in it. I looked sideways at him whilst I poured the water into the mugs; his face looked thinner… I hadn't really noticed it before, but now I was closer to him it was really noticeable. "Do you want sugar in your tea?" I asked, fishing out the tea bag and dropping it in the bin, I saw him shaking his head. "Alright." I picked up both mugs and walked straight passed him back into the larger room that he used as bedroom and living room combined. "Here you go…" I put his mug down on his writing desk and perched upon the edge of the closest bed. I saw George flinch ever so slightly again. "So, how have you been?" I asked him, raising my mug to my lips but not actually taking a drink.

"Ah… well… you know…" George muttered vaguely, shuffling his feet where he stood; I watched him shifting about for a few more moments before speaking.

"George, I know you must be feeling shit, you don't have to dress it up with me… alright?" I told him, trying to look him in the eye but he was staring resolutely at the floor. "Don't bother pretending everything is alright when it's clearly not…" George was still gazing at the floor, I wondered whether he was going to get mad like he had one with Ron, but he didn't seem to want to move or look up. "So… how are you?"

"To…" He started hoarsely, then cleared his throat. "To put it in your words, shit." He picked up his mug from the edge of the writing desk and took a drink – probably to procrastinate from having to talk again. I waited; wanting him to have enough time to gather his thoughts into coherent sentences. "And I don't need to be psychoanalysed, alright?" He was glaring at me suspiciously from over the rim of his mug.

"I'm not here to psychoanalyse you!" I retorted hotly, "You can wallow as much as you want for all I care!"

"So that's why mum, dad and Ron have all been round trying to get through to me?" He sounded angry now.

"It may have escaped your notice, but I'm not mum, dad, or Ron! To be honest I think what you're doing is perfectly natural! You might be isolating yourself, but at least that's doing something to express how you're feeling! You're not pretending everything is fine when it's actually all going to shit!" The reply flooded out before I had the chance to sensor it; I could see George's hands were shaking around his mug. "You're not the only person who misses him George." His hands were still trembling and he was staring at me like I was speaking sacrilegiously; I wondered whether this was the point that he had thrown those cups at Ron. "Stop looking at me like that George! You know what I've just said is true!" There was a long lingering moment where he looked like he might argue. He didn't speak for the longest time, but then his features softened and he looked down at his feet again.

"At least you haven't lost half of yourself…" George mumbled, breaking the silence in between us. "You've not lost your identity."

"But… neither have you…?" I questioned.

"But I have! Because who am I? I'm George Weasley – and there's no George without F-" He cut off abruptly before he came to Fred's name. "We're the Weasley twins- a duo; it doesn't work as a singularity…"

"George, that's not your entire identity! You're as much a singular as you were part of a duo." I said. "But I understand what you mean – none of us are going to miss him in the same way that you will… I think that's a given, George; but that doesn't mean that we're hurting significantly less either." I paused and took a sip of my tea, thinking about what I wanted to say next, eventually I decided: "I feel like I've lost one of my best friends." I started, "It's just so difficult to comprehend that he's actually gone – I keep expecting him to just walk through the door, but he's never going to, not anymore… Every time I think about him I remember the three of us, laughing at your jokes… I remember when you both went to Hogwarts in your first year, and I cried for three days straight because I couldn't go with you – mum wrote to you and made you promise that you'd come home for Christmas and cheer me up!" I was reminiscing now; I had been eight when the twins had started at Hogwarts. "And to cheer me up in the meantime you wrote me a letter, and told me all about Hogwarts, how wonderful it was – how I'd love it when I started – but also how you missed seeing me." I looked at George and caught him staring at me rather blankly. "You told me not to be sad; that you weren't gone forever and that you'd see me soon."

"That was his idea… the letter." George explained, shrugging his shoulders.

"It was from both of you." I insisted, "But I remember it, because it was the first time that anyone had actually treated me like I was grown up enough to understand what was going on."

"It wasn't me – it was all his idea… he was good with people like that…" George repeated.

"Stop it – you were as much involved as he was, and you're just as good with people!" I commanded, George didn't reply.

"I don't know what you all expect of me…" George finally admitted, "I just want to be left on my own!" He seemed insistent, but I didn't quite believe his conviction.

"Will you come back when you're done with being on your own?" I asked him quietly. "I don't want to lose you as well."

"Yes." He replied, his voice wavering. "I just want to be on my own to process and get my head around… round everything… wait, what do you mean?" I glared at him, did he really not understand?

"Fred is dead. Mum and dad seem to be teetering on the edge of nervous breakdown. Percy, well… you've heard what Percy tried to do, haven't you?" George nodded at me. "Well, I don't know what's going on in his head; none of us have been able to get through to him. He told dad he was determined to kill himself. Dad was distraught because St. Mungos' keep saying that Percy's not co-operating with them, and unless he starts working with them they can't do anything, and if he doesn't then they're going to send him home." I felt I may be rambling now – but George had asked me what I meant, so I was going to explain; I sighed. "They'll send him home for him to try again, and we might not be so lucky in finding him next time…" I paused, looking at George. "So I don't want to lose you. I don't want this family to be completely fucked, you see!" George blinked at my choice of words. "I miss him! And I miss you too – and I don't want to have to miss you…" I didn't care that I was rambling anymore, or that the back of my throat suddenly felt like it was searing apart and tears were burning in the back of my eyes.

"Of course I would come back." George told me, but both of us could hear the longing in his voice. His mug was shaking again, instinctively I could tell that he wasn't being dishonest – but there was something that didn't quite sit right. Without stopping to think properly I spoke;

"George, is something going on? I mean, something troubling you right now?"

"No…" He said, but now I knew something was definitely wrong – his voice was shaking almost as much as his hands were.

"George?" I started but he cut over me.

"I'd like you to go please." His voice was still weak and shaky, but he seemed to have made up his mind, I stared at him blankly. "Please?"

"No!" I objected firmly, he seemed taken aback. "No!" I repeated, "George something is up, something's shaken you in the past five minutes and I want you to tell me what it is!"

"Please…!" George pleaded imploringly, his voice now sounded full of emotion like he was struggling to stop himself from tearing up. I didn't move – I didn't reply and I think he took that as my refusal. "What if I don't want to? What if I never want to come home? What if I just want to lock myself in here forever?" I couldn't believe how hysterical he sounded. "What if I never leave this room for the rest of my life?"

"Is that what you want George?" I questioned tentatively.

"No! I really – no! But… but I, I can't!" He stuttered; I couldn't believe this, he put his face in his hands and then ran them through his hair. His face had drained of all colour – he now looked sheet white, this was maybe the closest he had ever been to properly breaking down.

"You can't what?" I coaxed gently.

"Leave…" He stated rather matter of factly. "I physically can't." I didn't understand what he meant exactly, so I waited – hoping that he would expand upon what he had just said, after a few strained moments he did continue: "When I wrote… I wrote a letter to Ron this morning." I shifted slightly on the edge of the bed feeling a little uncomfortable. "And I thought that when he got it he might come and visit. I know that Ron takes milk in his tea – so I decided that I'd go out and buy some cause I haven't done any shopping in a while…" I thought back to his outcry earlier on when he had tried to stop me making tea because he didn't have any milk. "But I couldn't… I got outside the door, and… and…" I had never seen George like this before, he looked diminished and so pale that I was sure he might faint, or throw up, at any moment. "I couldn't. I couldn't get any further than the top of the stairs, then I thought the world was going to collapse on top of me. But when I got back in here everything went back to normal… so, so I can't. I'll just stay here." He lowered his head into his hands again and stared at the floor.

"No, you won't." My voice was cracking now, "I'll help – if you want me to… you don't have to stay in here, I don't care if it takes a long time, but I will." George raised his head; his eyes were watery and red as though he was trying his best not to cry.

"Really?" He whispered, "You'd really… you'd really do that?"

"Yes! I'm not going to let you stay trapped if you want to get out! I know mum and dad would want to help too…"

"No, please… they'd just lecture me about how I'm being stupid." George was shaking his head.

"Alright." I recoiled slightly. "Well I certainly won't let you stay stuck, and I know Ron won't either." I answered firmly, George smiled rather weakly.

"Th-Thank you." George said eventually, looking the most contented that I had seen him today and for a long while.

A/N: Whoaaaa….. that was long! I hope you've actually managed to read it and get down here! This one's taken me a while to write, so I'm sorry it hasn't been updated sooner! I wouldn't mind a couple of reviews (or 20), if you would ;) I'll try and update soon, but uni is getting hectic! It will be a week maybe at the very most! :)