-1Author's Note:

First, I'd like to say a few reasons that I wrote this. When I read Deathly Hallows, I burst into tears and threw my book across the room when I found out about the death of my favorite character-Fred Weasley. I cried for days…I know that's drastic, but there was something magical about those two mischief makers, that's when I came up with this idea. 1. Writing this is like therapy, it helps you to tie up those lose ends. Is George okay? What happened to the Weasley Wizard Wheezes? What happened afterwards? 2. Was that I was sad that Angelina Johnson didn't have her moment. Fred and Angelina were meant to be, so I thought this should be George's story as much as hers. So here is my theory on what would have happened to George, Angelina, the rest of the Weasley's, and the hole that Fred left behind.

I hope you enjoy! Comment please, just to let me know whether I should keep going or not. Let me know if you like it, hate it or any suggestions at all please and thank you!

George laid there with his head leaning over a face so much like his own. His eyes were shut, and he was pale as he unbowed his head. He felt dull…he felt dead as if he was the one lying there. But wasn't he? Wasn't that face that laid there with the mere trace of a smile on it's vestige his as well?

He laid his hand on Fred's chest, hoping to hear the muffled beating of his brother's heart. He remembered when his ear had been cursed off, the way he had brushed it aside with a joke as they had all been worried. This wasn't a joke…even Fred wouldn't push it this far.

Reaching up, he pulled the eyelids over his brothers vacant eyes. He stood up, and they all looked at him. He was white with pain, with fury. He looked up at the enchanted ceiling and was shocked to find that the sky was clear and cloudless….how could the very heavens not rend and pour out fire or even rain at the death of his brother, at the death of them all.

He turned on his heel and walked away. He felt Percy at his arm, trying to stop him. He turned there was pain on his face. Percy was broken, pleading for forgiveness.

George merely looked at him. He couldn't speak. "George…"

George reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "No…Not George." Everyone looked at him, suddenly afraid. What did he mean not George? "I'm Forge. I have to be…" He let go of his brother and walked away.

He wandered the halls of Hogwarts. Blood bedecked the marble halls and he felt sick. He had left his brother back there, he had promised he'd never do that. It wasn't leaving exactly though…it was staying.

He turned the corner and ran into the very person he didn't want to meet. Angelina Johnson stood there, looking at George. Blood was pouring from her nose and fore-head.

She smiled wanly at him. "Was in bit of tight spot back there, got through al-". She stopped looking at the dull, white expression he had. "What's-" She couldn't finish the question. Someone was dead.

She stood there, her dark skin going pale. Not moving, she tried to meet his eyes, but he was avoiding hers. Digging in his pocket, he handed her something. "Eat it."

Putting the other half of the Nosebleed Nougat in her mouth, she waited. "George…" Her lips trembled. She knew, knew that he'd never be here alone. She tried to calm her voice, she had no part in their grief. She was an outsider.

George looked up into her eyes, and that told her everything. She sobbed as George pulled her into his arms, pressing the dark head against his bloody shoulder. "He's gone…" She sobbed it into George, and she knew if anyone understood it was him.

He pulled her tighter. "No…not gone."

She pulled back, wiping her streaming face. "What…what do you mean?"
"The de- their not really gone are they?" He looked into her deep brown eyes. "Their here always. If he was gone forever, I'd feel it." He pressed his hand to his chest.

Angelina looked at him. She had never heard George talk like this. She had fallen into his arms for comfort and found someone even more at a loss than she. "Oh George…" She stifled another sob. "He's here…isn't he?"

George nodded slowly. His eyes burned. Angelina pulled him to her and patted that bright red head. As she did this, as she cried with him her thoughts were on Fred. She had remembered getting a letter from him only a few days before. He had wanted her to see him, he said he had missed her terribly. That things should be different, that they should be together. He wanted to try. She had come to find. Before the fight, they had no time to share words, or even a kiss. She had kissed him so long ago…that night after the Yule Ball in that little broom closet that suddenly appeared as Filch was trying to find them. That had all been games, fun and games. Some one to pass the time with. If they had taken the opportunity then maybe they could have had these three pleasant years together. They were nothing but missed opportunities. She tried to brush it all away, as she sobbed louder onto George's shoulder. Was it wrong of her to pretend that Fred was holding her too?