Okay, so I know there's like a million of these done, but I also think that J.K. Rowling didn't make Fred's death a big enough deal so I kinda feel like it's every twin-fan's duty to make a memorial-one-shot. So here goes my version. It's not even good and I don't even know if I'm gonna send it or not, but, eh well. But you can review anyway, right?

Disclaimer: Okay I haven't done this yet so I'm gonna say it now: I'm not J.K. Rowling, and if I was, I would NOT have killed Fred or Sirius!

It was all very formal.

Way too formal if you consider who it was about. The weather was nice, which was lucky since the ceremony was held outside. Many rows of benches were placed on a wide lawn, all of them facing the dreadful thing in the middle.

With all the flowers, sunshine and birds chirping one could even call it beautiful.

But George Weasley saw nothing beautiful in the whole thing. Beautiful was a positive expression, and there was absolutely not one positive thing in this situation.

This was a funeral he was not supposed to attend. This should not have happened; it just wasn't how it was supposed to be. There wasn't supposed to be just one. Always two, always. Not one without the other. Never just one.

The rows of benches were slowly getting filled. People were flowing in all the time. All of them were familiar faces to George, obviously, since they'd always been together so naturally they'd always met the same people. Many stopped to voice their condolences to him, some figured it'd be best to just not bother him. George spotted his friend Lee Jordan from Hogwarts. The usually happy-faced boy stopped in front of him and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. After trying a few times Lee gave up, defeated, and just shook his head a tear escaping from the corner of his eye. George nodded, patting his friend on the shoulder and stated, "I know." Lee gave him a short hug and then continued his way towards the benches.

The next person to approach George was Harry Potter, accompanied by Ginny. Harry, who'd faced a dramatic change in personality after defeating Voldemort for he was finally free to live a life of his own and was therefore happier than ever, seemed even now quite light-hearted. At least too light-hearted in George's opinion. George was trying hard not to let his slight shade of anger show on his face. At times when he missed his brother the most, he couldn't help but feel it should've rather been Harry than Fred. Of course he knew it was wrong to even think that, and was careful to not to voice that thought to everyone.

Harry shook hands with George, muttering his apologies. Ginny gave George a tight hug, tears filling her eyes. "It's not fair," she muttered not letting go of his brother. George merely shook his head in agreement, holding back his own tears for what must've been the thousandth time that day. He finally let go of his little sister who followed Harry, also to take a seat.

After realizing most of the people were probably already there, George too started heading to the benches. He spotted Ron in the front row, sitting next to Hermione, an empty gaze on his eyes. George took a seat beside his brother who gave him a pat on the shoulder.

For the first time in the whole day George now looked at the coffin placed in the centre of it all. It was black and simple, nothing too fancy. He doubted Fred would've wanted to be buried too elegantly. Fred wouldn't have wanted to be buried at all yet, George thought bitterly.

The coffin was open, and when George got a glimpse of a tuft of the familiar red hair for the first time after the faithful night, he felt his heart sink and being dragged back to that specific moment that would visit his nightmares for the rest of his life.

Battling down one more Death Eater George straightened his back a triumphant grin on his face. He was already heading towards the next one when he heard the announcement. One hour time to take care of the dead and the injured.

Dead and injured.

He'd been so into the battling he hadn't even stopped to think there were people dying all the time. The grin faded from his face when an unpleasant sensation went through him when he thought about the chances of one of his friends or family members being part of that group. They were a tad too big for his liking.

Quickly shaking the thought away, George started making his way to the Great Hall.

The sight wasn't pretty. Almost everybody had suffered from some kind of an injury, whether it was a scratch on a cheek or a lost limb. Turning his head to the left George saw a row of bodies. A way too long row. He glanced over the row, his stomach turning every time he recognized a lifeless face. He'd almost gotten till the end of it when he felt his world suddenly stop. A red-haired head, an unmistakeable Weasley, laying there, as lifeless as the rest of them.

No.

He slowly walked towards the figure. He saw his mother crouched over it, and he continued walking in a trance of horror.

He was no just a few feet away and finally forced himself to see who it was.

And everything around him stopped.

He suddenly heard nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing. Nothing, but the blank face on his feet.

George felt his legs give out and he dropped onto his knees. Tears immediately filled his eyes when he took his twin brothers hand, only to find it to be cold and motionless. He took his brother by the shoulders, shaking him, calling his name and waiting him to open his eyes at any moment.

But all he did was lie there.

Defeated, George finally stopped and just clutched his brother's hand, burying his face on Fred's chest, shaking with sobs right next to his mother.

He didn't know how long he sat there. He just couldn't bring himself to believe it. Not Fred, anyone else but not Fred. Anything else he could handle but not this. This just couldn't be happening. He suddenly felt their whole life flash in front of him. Their first prank, the first time they did magic, their first day in Hogwarts, their first Quidditch match, their second and third prank, all the way until this day. Every single thing they did together.

He suddenly felt some one put a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Charlie looking down at him sadly. Charlie shook his head and sighed. George felt somebody starting to lift Fred from the ground and quickly tightened his grip on his brother's hand. He vaguely heard Charlie tell him to let go, that Fred would have to be moved out of way.

"No! Don't touch him!"

He hung onto the hand with all his strength.

"Don't take him away from me!"

The tears had blurred his vision and his voice was hoarse. At that moment the only thing that was real to him was Fred's limp, lifeless hand.

"George, let go." He heard Charlie again, though it still sounded like it came from far away. "There's nothing you can do, he's gone."

He looked up again into his older brother's face that was filled with sorrow.

"Fred's gone."

And that's when it hit him. Hard, painfully.

Gone. Dead.

He let go of the hand but remained sitting there. He watched when Ron and his father, both of them tear-eyed, moved his beloved twin brother further in a corner.

And knew they'd never laugh together again.

Staring at the coffin, George felt the tears he'd been trying to keep in now flowing down like a waterfall. He saw Bill up there, giving a speech. He knew he should've been the one to do it, but he also knew there was no way he would've managed to. So he just sat there, not really hearing what Bill was saying, staring at the coffin holding a lifeless body of his brother. He had thought so when it happened, and he thought so still: This was too much for him to handle, the only thing in the world he just wouldn't get over.