The world had ended. Why had no one stopped moving?

George Weasley stared in shock at his wailing big brother, unable to believe what he was seeing. Percy, who had just so recently returned to the fold, was screaming with agony and clutching...

George blinked, attempting to clear his vision. There was dust everywhere. That must have been the reason, all of the granite and cement in the air was blurring his vision. Percy was just screaming because he had been hit, and Fred...

Fred was not dead. It couldn't be.

Fred Weasley, his twin, his counterpart, brother and other half, could not be dead.

And yet the minutes dragged by, and Fred didn't stir. And slowly, ever so slowly, the dreadful realization began to sink in. He vaguely recalled being aware of the others; Harry had fallen to his knees, Ron was shaking, his expression mirroring George's. But all he could focus on was the body of his brother, eyes still open, mouth still upturned in a smile, and utterly still.

And then it hit. He was dead. His twin was dead, he would move no more, and George did not understand why he was still alive without him. He heard a sound of the deepest sorrow burst forward. He fell forward to the ground, his knees stirred the dust that had settled there and it wasn't until much later that George Weasley realized that the sound had come from him.

It was many months later now. The war had ended, and the world was beginning to adjust slowly into an existence that was devoid of evil, or at least of the evil force that had haunted them all for so long.

But for some, the feeling still lingered. Some had lost more than they could count, and no one could deny that the Weasley's could be counted among them. Their friends, Tonks and Lupin, and then one of their own number.

Fred Weasley had died. It was the awful truth, and though time had eased the unbearable pain, the ache remained. George had existed, half in shadow, for half of a year, dazed and confused, waking up every day and wondering how he got by.

He recalled that day in startling clarity. Harry, Ron and Hermione had returned, and together they had sat in silence, isolated from the world. George, though now a grown man, had allowed his mother to hold him like a toddler. The truth was, he had been sure that if she had let go for even a second, he would have shattered completely. Percy could not stop crying, nor could Ginny. Charlie stood stoically, his face twisted in an expression of disbelief. Bill had come in and was clutching his wife's hand, his father was pale under his scarlet hair, and his mother was silent. And Harry Potter who had become like a surrogate brother to them all, was opening and shutting his mouth like a great, gasping fish, obviously wanting to say something, but unable to form the words.

But there were no words for this. The pain was too great, and so they sat, joined in their grief and slowly came to terms with the terrible, terrible truth. The funerals had come and gone, attended in great number by friends, family, admirers and well-wishers. For a while, their store had become a memorial: flowers, candy, joke books, photographs and the like covered the cobbled stone in front of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes and owls streamed constantly from their-his, office window, offering condolences. They were much appreciated, but ultimately worthless. Because of all the people who felt the loss of Fred Weasley, no one felt it more than his twin, George.

He was sitting in the upstairs room, the one they had once shared above the shop, staring blankly at the parchment in front of him. It was a detailed outline of several new products, ones that the two of them had been working on before the whole mess had started. George had been staring at this same parchment for months now, unable to take them a step further.

It was too painful. He and Fred had been a team. They worked seamlessly, inventing and improving with hardly any words exchanged, nearly sharing the same conscious. It was entirely probable that their bond was enhanced by magic; they often thought the same things, said the same things, felt the same things and did the same things. It had never been overbearing to have Fred around, they rarely fought and it was never serious. And now he simply was absent, and George felt as though he had been missing a leg for months now.

He sighed as an owl soared through the window. He recognized the small, grey owl at once as Pigwidgeon, Ron's owl. He and his youngest brother stayed in regular correspondence, the way they had before, but now it seemed strained. Their relationship had been tainted, no longer carefree. George realized just how much they had all been forced to grow up in this last two years.

How he wished desperately they would joke again. It used to be second nature, as easy and frequent as breathing. They teased, all of the brothers and Ginny, Harry too. But now the jokes seemed forced and strangled, until they had given up entirely. They all knew why.

One day losing Fred would stop hurting, but today was not that day. George resigned himself to this stark fact and rolled the parchment again, returning it to the place from which it had been taken. He looked up at the energetic grey owl and nearly smiled. It was bouncing around excitedly, nearly flying into his face in its eagerness to deliver the letter. Some things, at least, had not changed. He gave Pig a pat and took the note, unrolling it flat across his desk. He recognized Ron's untidy scrawl at once.

George,

How are things? I haven't heard from you in a week and Mum insisted I write, though I know it's just because you're busy. Anyhow, Hermione wanted me to invite you round to our place. She, Mum, and Ginny have gotten the idea to throw an engagement party, and you know how they are, once they start, there really is no heading them off. Harry will be there as well, obviously, and some friends from school, Lee and Neville and some others. And Andromeda is coming around with Teddy. Apparently his hair has gone half blonde, half scarlet; Bill says it's a laugh to see. You will be there won't you? Everyone wants to see you.

With love,

Ron

P.S. Angelina is coming too. She came round the other day, looking for you. She seemed keen to see you. She said she stopped by the shop, but you weren't there. I think she'd be delighted if you showed up. So you had better come.

George felt a pang of guilt. It had been a while since he had been around to see his family, and he was much overdue. He had found every excuse to miss the last three gatherings. It still hurt too much, to look round the table and to know that though some had joined the family, one place would always be empty. He sighed. He expected it was time to get past that. It would not do to linger on that thought, and Fred would have hit him roundly upside his head if he had known that George had isolated himself these past few weeks. He re-read the letter. This time the post script consumed his attention.

She was coming. Angelina Johnson, former teammate and classmate, friend and of course...

Fred's ex-girlfriend.

George wasn't sure he could see her again. Not after what had happened.

But it seemed there was no getting around it. He had avoided her for a month now, ducking out when she turned up at the shop and making sure never to be home when she visited his apartment. It appeared that she had cornered him. She was a bright girl, it had only been a matter of time. But still.

George Weasley sighed and scribbled his reply back to Ron with a promise to attend and a silent prayer that all would go well.

A/N: I have not abandoned my other story, but I just re read the whole Harry Potter series, plus something that J.K. Rowling said about the characters' lives after the books ended and this idea lodged into my brain and it wouldn't get out. So, inevitably, I wrote it down. I know where I want to go with this, so updates should be frequent. Please review if you are so inclined. Thanks!