IT IS THE END: But not so. It's the end of this series, but not the end of the story. The way this ends, it completely skips a year, and goes directly to the end of Deathly Hallows when one of our characters meets their end, so IF YOU HAVEN'T READ DEATHLY HALLOWS, DON'T READ THIS. I'm going to write about the year before the death, after I write about Fred in In The Thick Of Things and Percy in The Supreme Ruler of the Universe. Or perhaps I'll write it before Percy's, but don't worry--you haven't seen the last of me and I beg of you to stay with me, I really do. I want to thank you guys so much for sticking with me through the end.

This chapter was in no way easy to write. However, I was on the computer and thought, it was time. I finished it quickly and cried, not because it was the end of the series, but because of what it contains. I hope it does my story justice, and I hope it touches you guys like it did me. It's kind of deep, hitting more levels than the rest of the series. It is short, as usual for the last chapter of my stories because it's telling Angelina's thoughts, feelings. And bringing with it an end that we all must meet someday.

Please enjoy reading this, if you've stuck with me from the beginning, I beg of you to review and let me know what you think. I beg of you to stay with me in my other stories, for it's not the end of Fred/Angelina from me. I hope it closes well.

Lastly, thank you.

Fred and I—never had mixed babies with red hair, because we never had kids. Never got to get that house and shag on the stairs like he wanted. Never got married. I didn't get to feel what Asami felt when she married my brother. I didn't get to walk down the aisle feigning virginity and dressed in all white, seemingly floating. I didn't get to see how charming Fred could've been at the end of that aisle. Never got that honeymoon away from everything. I'll never get any of that—ever.

Yeah, there was that year before—still, I'll never meet my end with him. I'll be forced to do it with someone else—if I can ever mend myself.

George will never be whole again. He'll always be broken. There'll be no one else to finish his sentences for him, no one to laugh at the fact that he's only got one ear. He'll always have survivor's guilt, somehow worse because he's a living reminder of someone we can no longer have.

I used to hate him, hard to think of it—but I detested that boy that I unwillingly fell in love with. I can say that I'm happy we never wasted a minute—ever; which has been evident since that Valentine's Day years ago.

I don't feel it as bad as George does, I'm sure—but I still can't bare any of it. There was barely a moment in my life after we started courting that Fred and I weren't together—and I regret it. Because now it's more painful in his absence. I think I'll always expect him after hearing that familiar crack from the living room of my flat and I'll forever be disappointed to see someone else. And it's terrible that my hope lifts every time I see George, but I fall further than I was in knowing that he'll never be my love. In no way is it his fault and I punish myself for placing guilt upon him, I sense that he feels it. He could never be the same, I feel that.

Fred was always in the thick of things, always. He was the ringleader, the somewhat dominant personality, which turned me onto him in the first place. He was always anything I could've ever wanted; always so damn perfect, even with his flaws, and I loved him and hated him for it. But mostly loved.

Everyone asked—what's the secret between Fred and me? Always staying together, always being together and rarely fighting. It was that, somehow, we completed each other. Not how he and George completed each other, because that bond is unbreakable. It was something entirely different.

I say again that in no way am I feeling what George is feeling, I feel he can't ever be healed. Somewhere down the line, tens of years from now I can see a day when I'm okay with everything that has happened. However, George has that daily reminder for the rest of his life when he looks in the mirror, that he was the surviving twin.

None of this is to say that George and I are the only ones hurting, no. Fred affected many people—his family, his extremely tight family will always mourn him. His poor mother, father, no parents should have their son die before them. And how will their portraits look with only one twin standing there?

It was a blessing and a curse when I met Fred Weasley. A blessing, because I could never have been happier in my life. And a curse because all of that has been taken from me. If he wasn't so charming, so annoying, so persistent, I find I wouldn't be so hurt right now. Sure, suffer from a minor abrasion on my life, but not this deep cut that refused to heal.

It's not fair that people have to leave us. To come into our lives, and leave so suddenly. It seems those that cause us so much pleasure cause us more pain when they've left. An infectious personality, it would've been all too good to be kept to itself, but never—always spreading so much enjoyment and therefore doing more damage.

I can't see a day when I won't think about him, can't see a day when I won't hope he's here, hope that the Apparition is him coming back to me, that he just went on holiday for a bit and decided not to tell me.

Still, good has come into the world, and good people had to be sacrificed, leaving us in pain, rather than the pleasure that the defeat should have caused. I do see that infinitesimal speck of light at the end of this very long, very dark tunnel. I suppose it's the future. A happy future perhaps, for as low as I am I can't see anything getting any worse.

The gaping hole that is my heart should be filled in time, I'm certain. Perhaps not fully filled, no—never, but it'll mend itself well enough. It'll forever have a scar. It can't completely heal, ever.

I am happy Fred came into my life, perhaps not now because he's causing me so much pain at this point. But I am so happy to have known him, to have been a part of his life, for him to be in my memory which is too painful to recall at this moment. Instead of crying when I think about those times—even at Hogwarts I could—sometime later, think upon them with a smile, a light feeling coursing through me instead of the drop somewhere within and that lump in my throat that refuses to go away upon the recollection.

I know Fred's happy and if he could see me in this state he'd surely be ashamed of me, tell me to cheer up because he'll see me soon enough. Like I said, somewhere in the future, I'll be okay. I'll be with Fred, and then he can feel free to charm me all he wants because the pain will cease when we're back together.

Et, c'est la fin.