Disclaimer: I will never own Harry Potter.

A/N: It has literally been years since I've updated this, but I'm reading Fangirl, by Rainbow Rowell right now, and it's made me miss fan fiction more than I had in a while. If anyone is still reading this, I hope you enjoy. It's a tough one.

If anyone needs to find George, they go to the living room. None of his siblings consciously realize this at first, but then, as they slowly start to acknowledge each other's presence whenever one of them is sitting with George, it becomes obvious what isn't happening. George isn't going up to his room.

Because it isn't HIS room. If anyone had asked him why he was never up there - well, no. No one is about to do that because everyone knows the answer. It's their room, and none of them can bear the thought of it just being George's now. Especially George.

So Molly and Arthur turn a blind eye to George's pillow and blanket stuffed next to the worn out couch in the mornings. And Bill and Charlie - and even Percy and Ron - are becoming unsurprised to find George's clothing appearing in their rooms, at the foot of their beds, when they come out of the shower. But the one person who hasn't seemed to realize that George refuses to set foot in there is his sister. For some reason he hasn't brought himself to think about, George doesn't want Ginny to know he's been avoiding his - their - his room.

He avoids eye contact with Ginny, too, more than any of the others. And it's not like he's so gung-ho for a conversation with any of his brothers, but they corner him sometimes when he's least expecting it, and he just sort of gives in. He doesn't give them much more than one-syllable responses, but he sits there while they talk or try to and hopes it at least makes them feel better. But Ginny... well, she scares him. On the few occasions when it's seemed like she's about to make an effort, he quickly finds somewhere else he needs to be.

And then one day, he's in the shower, and he hears a door creak. It's a sound that's as familiar to him as Fred's voice - and here, the tears well up and splash down with the shower water, which is the only time he doesn't try to hold them back because no one can see - but he swallows them again just as quickly because he knows he needs to get out of the shower and find out who the HELL has gone in there without permission.

He's wearing shorts and a threadbare t-shirt when he stops just short in the doorway - and feels as if the wind has been knocked clean out of him. Because it's not Mum - not that he thought it would be - for all of her maniacal cleaning tendencies, she's always been more than happy to leave this well enough alone. It's not Percy or Bill, trying to stuff some of his shirts or knickers back in his own drawers. It's Ginny. And she's not there to help him. She's standing in the middle of the floor, her eyes fixed on Fred's bed, and she's - is she shaking?

George isn't sure because, suddenly, he is. He can't stand there anymore; he can't watch this. He turns to go, but then he hears her. She's heard him, too, and she's turned and is saying "George." It's all she says, but her voice sounds nothing like her own. It sounds broken and fragile and not like he ever thought Ginny would sound. And that is the only sound that could make him turn back. But he still can't go in there. He can't seem to move his foot anywhere near that threshold.

Ginny stares at him, wondering, he knows, why he's stuck there on the landing, and he shakes his head more and more violently as he somehow manages to stutter, "I - I can't," but she doesn't give in easily EVER, and today isn't going to be a first.

He hardly knows what she's doing when she steps toward him, but when her hand closes around his wrist, he seizes with panic and fear and pulls back.

"N-no. G-Ginny, I c-can't. D-don't!" He's starting to gasp for air, but she's relentless as she tries to drag him forward. Against his will, and because he can't seem to fight anymore, he realizes he's partway into the room. And that's when he collapses into a heap on the floor just inside the door.

He curls into a ball, right there, and she sinks down beside him, whispering, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," but he doesn't hear her. He can't hear anything over the empty roaring of the room that used to be filled with jokes and laughter but now just contains emptiness. Memories, yeah - but memories are rubbish when they're all you've got left. He cradles his head in his arms, unable to look at her, his little sister who has never been this cruel before, this unfeeling, and he tries to slow his breathing, but all he can think is that he's in the room where Fred will never go again, and instead of calming down, he feels the lump in his throat swell and dissolve for the second time that hour, and his shoulders start shaking.

Ginny's arms wrap around him then, and he can't even throw her off. She rocks him slowly like she did that time he and Katie had broken up, when he thought that was the worst thing that could ever happen to him, but this time, instead of whispering to him about all the hexes she's going to cast, she's whispering "I love you. And I love Fred. I will always love both of you. And I will always be able to tell you apart." Her voice breaks on "apart," and that's when he looks up.

They stare at each other for a moment, and then he reaches to her, and she crawls to him, her own tears cascading down her cheeks. They hold each other, and she says, "I'm - I'm sorry I came in here. I just - I just wanted..." She trails off, but then she feels George nod.

"I know," he says gruffly, one arm around even as he swipes at his eyes with his other hand. "I was afraid to see if I could still feel him here because - what if - what if I couldn't?" He looks at her then, his eyes full. "I'm not - I'm still not sure I can."

Ginny closes her eyes and puts her arms around George. She's not sure she can either, but she's willing to sit there long enough until they do.