Thanks again for the lovely reviews. Here's the next chapter. I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow, so I won't be able to post an update until at least the 19th. Sorry...

Disclaimer: Not my characters.

The next morning, George got dressed slowly and went downstairs. He sat in the living room while everyone else was eating. He had no desire to be part of the festive atmosphere of a Weasey family meal.When they came into the living room, they all greeted him with hearty fake cheeriness:

"Hey! It's George!"

"How's it going, mate?"

"Great to see ya!"

These displays disgusted George. How could they pretend to be happy when he could feel that all the happiness had vanished from his life?

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When George got to the funeral, he stayed towards the back, carefully avoiding the area where the coffin was set up. Thankfully, everyone else seemed to want to stay away from him too. George listened as the eulogies began. Many people spoke: his father, Bill, friends from school. They talked about Fred's humor, his love of life, how much he would be missed by all. George didn't want to hear it. When some kid from school said, "We all know the twins, and we all know how devastating this must be for George," he couldn't take it any more, He got up and walked out of the funeral. He didn't give a shit if people saw or if they thought it was disrespectful. What was disrespectful was the way they were trying to talk about Fred, as if they understood. They didn't know him! Nobody knew him, except George! Just like nobody knew George, except Fred. And now nobody at all knew George. Nobody was there for him, like his other half had been. He knew how mourning worked. Sure, they were sad now, but in a few months they'd get over it and they would be going about their daily business as if Fred had never been there. Nobody's lives would be changed–except George's. He knew he would always be aware of the loss, every single moment he was conscious. And they could never understand that. They would expect him to get over it, as one would eventually get over any other loss. But this was so much different. They had been alone all their lives, they were used to it. They couldn't understand how it felt for George to be alone. Worse than alone. Because he wasn't just by himself now--he was less than himself. And how do you get over that?

He had reached a boulder by the lake and was sitting on it trembling with fear and anger when he saw a dark figure hurrying towards him. Lee Jordan, their best friend, who he hadn't seen since the battle. Lee sat on the boulder next to him. "Hey," he said, a somber look on his face.

George was grateful that Lee didn't try to speak with pathetic false happiness. He stared at his friend, searching for some sort of help. Lee looked compassionate. George realized that even talking would be different now. He would have to finish his own sentences, for one thing. He spoke slowly, carefully. "How...how can they talk about him?" he implored. "They didn't know him!"

Lee nodded a little. "I know, mate. It's hard."

"What the hell am I supposed to do?"

"Look, I knew Fred, and I know he wouldn't have wanted you to be so hurt. He would have told you you'll be just fine on your own, and--"

"Stop it! Shut up! You didn't know him! You didn't! Nobody knew him except me! You can't go and tell me what he would have wanted and say I'll be fine without him because I WON'T, and obviously you can't understand that! Because you don't bloody know what it's LIKE! So just stop butting in and leave me alone, because that's what I am anyway, ALONE. I never ever was before, but I always will be now and there's nothing you or I or anyone can bloody do about it!"

"No, mate, that's not true, you can move on--"

"NO! I can't. I won't. I don't WANT to!" And with that, George stalked away, leaving Lee confused and hurt.

George ran across the field, crying so hard he couldn't breathe. He didn't know where he was going, but he didn't care, as long as he was moving, because the effort it took to keep running was enough to keep him from thinking about what he'd just said. He didn't bother to look what was in front of him; who cared if he ended up running off a cliff? But somehow he found himself in the tent where the funeral had been set up. The attendees were all gathering their things to go, and some hired wizards were packing up the tent and chairs, but the coffin was still there. He leaned over it and gripped the edges, staring desperately into Fred's eyes for what he knew would be the last time. "What do you want me to do?" he whispered. "How am I supposed to go on? Alone?" He thought about it. He'd had twenty perfect years. There was more happiness there than a lot of people had ever known. Now that was all over. He would never again execute the perfect joke with his twin at his side. He knew that he would be utterly alone for the rest of his life, that no one could ever understand what he was feeling and actually get close to him, and that his chances for happiness had been ruined. But he & Fred had spent their lives making others happy with their jokes. Why did that need to stop? He still knew how to make a good Nosebleed Nougat, he still knew how to make people smile. He knew everyone else would get over Fred's death soon enough, and when they were ready to be happy again, he wasn't going to bring them down. He was going to be right there ready to give them new laughter. Because if he was making others happy, what would it matter if his own loneliness stopped him from feeling their joy?

Aw, poor Lee. tear Poor George too.

I don't know what to do with this now. I mean, I know what happens to George, but I can't decide if I should just write an epilogue, showing how his life ends up, or show his whole journey, which would be quite an undertaking and require many more chapters, but would be interesting to write. Is the story pretty much done, or does it call for/deserve a longer treatment? What do you guys think?

Feedback is hugely appreciated. Thanks much.