Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: Ok, I've made it to the end, so I hope you all enjoy this last chapter, which is, of course, the longest one. I became even more motivated to write this (and maybe even a sequel) after watching the interview with JKR on Dateline where she discussed her choice of which twin would die. She said she always knew it would be Fred, and she referred to him as the harder of the two, calling George a bit gentler. I think we've all seen that in all of the fics everyone's been writing. (Oh, the sequel will be called Still Left Behind One Year Later. I'll probably also be working on Just Because It's Right again.) I wish I could thank all reviewers, but I hope you all know how much I appreciated the encouragement. (ncis-lady, especially… thanks so much.)

Bill and Fleur sat in their room that night and looked at one another. They'd just finished eating yet another delicious dinner, and they knew it was time to go home. They also knew that they would never really be ready. But there was nothing for that.

Fleur couldn't sit still for another moment. She got to her feet and rechecked the bags that she had already checked three times that evening.

"Have everything?" Bill asked, his voice deeper than usual, as he watched her from his seat on his bed.

Her back to him, she nodded, careful to keep her hair as a shield so he wouldn't see her face. She knew he would quickly identify the tears in her eyes, and she didn't want to make this any harder on him than it already was. She also knew that he was embarrassed to find leaving home so very difficult, so she forced a note of cheer into her voice and pretended not to know her husband as well as they both knew she did.

"Yes, eet ees all 'ere. Are you… ready?" Her voice trembled, but she hoped he would be too preoccupied to notice. He was.

"Let's go," he muttered, reaching for his wand to transfer their bags to Shell Cottage ahead of them. She watched as they disappeared from view and then turned to look at her husband. His scarred face looked pained, and he reached silently for her hand. Holding onto each other tightly, they made their way back down the crooked stairs to the kitchen. The only people in there were Molly and Charlie, and Bill breathed a small sigh of relief. He couldn't have made it through every single goodbye in one piece if they'd paid him, and he was secretly relieved that he wouldn't have to try.

Before he could say anything, however, Fleur rushed into her mother-in-law's arms, and Molly held the young woman tightly, her eyes filling with tears. Looking at Bill over her daughter-in-law's shaking shoulders, she managed to say, "I take this to mean you're leaving?"

He just looked at her and nodded, afraid to speak himself. Charlie noticed this and stepped over to him, reaching out to shake his hand, Bill noticed with relief. He had just taken Charlie's hand when his younger brother surprised him by pulling him into a hug. He didn't expect it, and he couldn't handle it. He knew he'd fall apart if they stood there a moment longer, so he pulled away from his brother and touched Fleur's shoulder.

"Let's go," he rasped, grasping her hand. He was about to disapparate when his mother's hand stopped him.

"I don't get a goodbye?" she asked. She had regained her own composure and was giving her oldest a steady look filled with understanding. He turned away from Fleur quickly to kiss Molly on the cheek, but when she put her hand on his face, he felt his eyes burning.

"We'll talk to you tomorrow," he managed to choke, and with a loud pop, they were gone. She stood staring at the empty spot in the kitchen where they'd been standing seconds earlier and then shook her head briskly. Without even looking at Charlie, she mumbled, "all of these goodbyes will be hard."

He couldn't help but agree.

George, on the other hand, felt the responsibility of the joke shop returning to him. He'd thought about his father's words in the hours since they'd talked in the garage, and he realized that he was probably right. He shouldn't go back to the shop alone… not the first time anyway. But he didn't know who to ask. He knew any of his siblings would be more than happy to go with him, but he didn't know who he would feel most comfortable having there. Finally, he decided that it would be stupid not to bring Ron, seeing as how he would need to learn the ropes eventually. And if he brought Ron, he'd have to bring all of the other people his father had mentioned… Hermione, Harry, Ginny… well, it could be worse, he mused. At least this way, no one would much notice if he didn't feel like talking.

He broached the topic at breakfast the next morning, and it was only after a moment of stunned silence that they all eagerly agreed to go along. He knew the nervousness in Ron's eyes, though. It was the same fluttering he felt in his own stomach that he would never admit to.

They apparated over to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes shortly after they'd all finished eating, and they found themselves standing on the pavement before the shop, staring at the window in silence. None of them spoke or moved until Ginny finally stepped forward, a resolve in her face that they all recognized, and said to George, "Were you planning on letting us in?"

He looked at her in confusion, and she repeated her question slowly.

"Oh… oh, yeah," he stuttered, reaching into his pocket and drawing out a key which he handed her. She moved decisively to the door, opened it, and walked in, followed hesitantly by Harry and Hermione. Ron stood beside George, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the door was now open. Neither of them looked at each other or even moved until Hermione came back out.

She looked at the two of them and then said carefully, "Why don't you come on in now?"

Hers was the only voice Ron would have heard right at that moment, and he looked at her and nodded, reaching for her hand, which he held tightly. He turned to George, who shook himself out of the fog that had seemed to settle over him, and the three of them made their way in.

Ginny had turned on the lights, and she and Harry were now dusting off the shelves. Neither of them were talking, though, and the reason was clear. In spite of the decisiveness of her movements, tears were trickling down Ginny's cheeks, and Harry's own eyes were pained as he watched her from the other side of the store. George took one look at his sister and knew that the last thing she wanted right now was sympathy, and he swallowed hard. He knew how she felt.

Turning away from the others, he walked into the back and found his way up the stairs. This was going to be the worst part, and he wanted to do it before anyone realized he had gone. Right now, he figured they would be too busy trying to make it seem like they were not looking out for Ginny.

He stood before the door of the room he and Fred had shared, took a deep breath, and opened it slowly. The sight that confronted him took his breath away ... because nothing had changed. It looked exactly as it had the last time they'd been here … together. He'd almost managed to forget how hard it had been to walk into their room in the Burrow for the first time, and now… it was as if no time had passed at all since the Battle.

He stumbled through the door and barely made it to Fred's bed before the tears overtook him. He reassured himself with the thought I'm alone… but then the reality of that thought struck him, and he buried his face in his brother's pillow as he felt the sobs shake him.

"Why did it have to be you?" he sobbed, unable to stop the words he'd been thinking from pouring out along with all of the tears he knew he'd never stop shedding. "I can't do this without you. You might have been able to do this without me, Fred, but I cannot do it without you. I need you. I don't know how to be me without you."

No one answered him, and he cried harder. He didn't know when he'd ever stop, but he hoped in the back of his mind that his siblings would find enough to keep them occupied downstairs. He quickly realized that not all of them had when he heard Ron's voice.

"Don't be a git," he said hoarsely, and George rolled over in surprise to see his younger brother sitting on his own bed. He stared at him for a moment before turning onto his other side. He didn't speak, waiting for Ron to explain himself. He didn't have to wait long.

"Do you really think Fred would have been able to do this without you? Mate, I don't think many people knew the two of you like I did, and as much as I know that he might have been a little tougher than you… this … this… would have brought him down too. How can you not know that?"

The tears continued to seep into the pillow, and George found himself saying all of the things he'd never imagined himself saying out loud to anyone.

"Maybe… but it's like … at Hogwarts, I could pretend he was back home. And when we were home, I could pretend he was just at the store. But now … he's not here. He's never…" he couldn't say another word. Damn it, he thought to himself, rubbing his face on the sheet. He'd never thought he'd say these things to Ron … or to anyone, for that matter… but he was just so miserable, so lost… and he needed to think someone understood at least a little. When Ron didn't answer, though, he felt his face flushing. Great, the only other possible partner I'll have in this shop thinks I'm a nutter, he thought to himself, and then he forced himself to look at Ron, and he knew he was wrong.

His little brother was sitting on the side of the bed, his face in his hands. George had made him cry. Again. He got to his feet unsteadily and made his way across the cluttered room where he sat down and squeezed Ron's shoulder. After a few minutes, Ron took a deep breath and removed his hands. Neither of them spoke for a few minutes and then…

"Well, come on downstairs," George said, standing and pulling Ron up with him. "You and I have got a lot of work to do."

Wordlessly, they made their way down the stairs. They found Harry, Ginny and Hermione still cleaning. All of their eyes were bloodshot, but they all seemed calm.

George clapped his hands, and the three of them turned around in surprise.

"I am hereby issuing a proclamation," he said with a sidelong glance at Ron. "If it ever gets out that the five of us spent the afternoon crying in Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, it will be incredibly bad for business. I hereby declare that if anyone ever finds out, whoever told will become the joke tester of that week. I also declare that there will be no more tears in this store unless they are caused by the marvelous creations of Gred and Forge… and Ron Weasley."

At this last addition, Ron's eyes were suspiciously bright, but he forced a smile.

"'Ear, 'ear," Harry said quietly, making them all laugh weakly through their tears. "It's time to make people laugh again."

George couldn't have agreed more.