First of all, to address some comments. Yes, this is a George and Angelina love-story. But I'm sorry, Fred JUST died. She's not going to be jumping his bones. She's got a lot of baggage to deal with and so does he. So if you're looking for something short and sweet, this might not be the read for you.

Second, grammar natzi's I love you! I really do. And I will be going over everything AGAIN to make sure I'm getting it right, and correct anything I failed to correct before. But two things to note, I'm trying to write how someone in England would and I am not from there. There are bound to be some mistakes, also my computer likes to try to "fix" words from Harry Potter—so that is an ongoing battle. The corrections might take awhile as I don't have the original files anymore. So I got to see how I can edit what I already have up, any pointers would be greatly appreciated!

Third, I'm sorry it has taken SO long for this fanfic to be written. But it near and dear to my heart and I WILL finish it. But for reasons, I've already outlined—near death experience, ventilator, PTSD, marriage, engagement, family cancer scare—it's been tough to put stuff back together. But it's getting back off the ground now. Expect chapters to be a little slow at first since I have to find the same vein again.

Fourth, I am following as closely as I can to canon. Please note that, Genevieve is my MAJOR exception. Also remember that things like "I'm Forge," is something George would say. I mean, in DH, he lost his ear and is cracking "holey" jokes. So even if he's in pain or dying, he's going to be joking about something soon after or during. I didn't make him that way, JK Rowling did.

Fifth, I caught a major error in "Kingsley's Request" that I'm trying to fix. The Prime Minster is really supposed to be the Prime Minister and Kingsly the Minister of Magic. But the wording came out all wrong so it makes it look like the new guy is both Ministers. Trying to figure out how to fix that without re-typing the whole chapter.

And finally, enjoy the chapter. That's why I write it—for you and me to enjoy it. Reviews are much appreciated, especially now. I need to make sure this is the same tone. Sorry this chapter is shorter than I wanted. But I wanted to get it right. Expect a longer chapter soon!

George's hand was in her ebony hair, stroking it gently while Angelina's shoulders shuddered with sobs. She was not past Fred's death, and for once—he didn't have to pretend either. There was no reason to pretend that he was okay now, Genevieve wasn't here to force him to keep a straight face. The only person here was a weak, broken girl who was trying to figure out how to live after a war—when someone she loved was gone.

He knew her pain better than anyone. He knew the way his brother was mad over her, driven to distraction. He'd felt that before too. But it had always been Fred for her. And now in the dim morning light of his old dorm, he realized that his grief was free. Everyone expected him to mourn for his brother, to grieve and never be the same. But Angelina, she had no right as far as they knew. She didn't have the open and easy right to grieve like he did.

Stroking the soft, slick hair he held her to him. What else could he do? What else could he say to her? Right now, his arms were enough it seemed. He knew, and here together they could grieve. They could fall to pieces and into each other for awhile before they had to put themselves back together again.

He felt the tears running down his face, "I…miss…" His words choked off.

Angelina pushed back from him, and odd look in her eyes as she met his gaze. Her hand touched her chest, "It hurts…so much," she said through sobs.

Pushing back a strand of her hair, George nodded. "I…how can it ever be easier? I was fine. Now it's…crushing me." He could feel the pressure, the loss…the anxiety pulling him under.

"I don't think it ever will," she took a deep steadying breath. "I think…the world is dimmer without him."

George smiled weakly, "I thought so too, but then I saw this girl…Her smile lights up the whole room. How I love to here laugh…"

Angelina could feel something waging a war in her intensely. He's not Fred. He's not Fred. He's not Fred. He's not talking about you. You don't care anyways. But the truth was, she didn't know how she felt. Her eyes locked on his as he spoke again.

"He had a baby, Ange," George's face was alight with something beautiful. It wasn't despair, it was hope. It was like the world was bright again with that look on his face. "The mother…dropped her off. But she looks just like him. Her hair Ange, her little face…She's him."

Angelina felt her chest tighten. She felt happy, there was a piece of Fred still living on. But it had been her hope that one day…they'd have had a family. That the piece of him living on would come from her…But he had been with someone else, had a child by them. Did he know? Why hadn't he told her of this?

But who was she to judge really? They hadn't been together. And why did it matter anymore?

The strange thing was that somehow, it all mattered. It all still mattered. What did George mean to her? Why was he merging in her mind with Fred? She'd always seen them so distinctly and different…so why now?

But before she had time to voice her thoughts or even attempt to untangle the feelings inside of her, she heard footsteps. Jumping back from George, she wiped at her face before Ron appeared on the top of the stairs. His ears crimson as he spoke, "Percy's looking for you….wanted…" His ears turned scarlet before he walked back down the stairs.