This story is dedicated to my parakeet, Phineas Nigellus. I can't believe that it has already been a year. RIP April 25, 2009.

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied

Who told me time would ease me of my pain!

I miss him in the weeping of the rain;

I want him at the shrinking of the tide;

-Edna St. Vincent Millay, "Time Does Not Bring Relief"

A year. Already?

It seemed to him more like a life time.

Despite what so many people had told him, assured him, he still felt as empty as the day he lost his best friend. Their whispers haunted his every step. "Move on," they always repeated. "You'll be fine."

Fine? What was that?

George never felt fine, not for many long, cruel months -he felt hate, grief, blame, and guilt, but never fine.

Hate for the world, for the joyful people, for the smiles on their faces. He hated how they could just continue their lives without a second though, without thinking how much was lost for their freedom. He envied their smiles -his was stolen from his face long ago. He despised the way they laughed happily at jokes and pranks. How dare someone have the nerve to crack a joke when all the jokes belonged to Fred? Why were they using something that was not theirs?

Grief. It overwhelmed him every time he took a breath in, knowing that his twin could no longer do the same. It filled him after hearing his sentences, unfinished, hanging in the air because he forgot that his other half was no longer able to complete them. His heart broke a little more every time he looked in the mirror, and for a spilt second, thought that it was Fred, not his reflection, looking back at him. One hand-knit jumper without a letter because, now, he couldn't be confused with Fred, hearing people start sentences "George and Fr…." and letting them trail off after noticing their mistake, not having to share everything with his brother -these things all hit him the hardest, causing him the utmost grief.

He seemed to blame everyone for everything nowadays but the person who got it the most was Fred. George blamed him for leaving him, for going somewhere that he couldn't follow. They always promised each other that one would not go too far without the other. The distance from life to death was something that George considered 'too far.' Fred had broken his promise. George blamed his brother for causing him this emptiness -if he would have just kept his promise then this wouldn't have ever happened.

There was something that he felt more than grief, more than hate, and that thing was called guilt. He wondered all of the time if there could have been something that he could have done to save his brother. 'Maybe if we hadn't split up' was something that crossed his mind over and over again -it had been, after all, his idea to take separate paths. He could have protected Fred if they'd stuck together. It was his fault that he lost his better half and he knew it.

How could he possibly ever be okay? He knew that he couldn't -he realized that the second that Fred departed from this world. It did not matter how much time passed because something would never changed -and that was that George wasn't Gred without his Forge.

I hope everyone liked it. Siriusly make sure you leave a nice review!

Phineas, I wrote this so you knew that I miss ya, buddy3

Thanks mew! You are siriusly the best beta ever!