"I'm so sorry for your loss."
That's pretty much all anyone has said to him since It happened.
The Disaster to Blast all other Disasters to Smithereens.
George knows they're just trying to be nice and show some empathy and all that ... but it doesn't exactly help.
Sure, the rest of his family have lost someone too; sure Angelina's pining away and getting greyer and greyer by the second; SURE Percy is going on and on about how he wished they'd had more time; SURE the entire Wizarding World is trying to piece itself back together again ... But how is any of that meant to compare to losing one half of yourself?
You see, this is where George gets really annoyed. Because it wasn't just his twin that died; it was one half of his body, one half of his brain, one half of his soul; and no matter what anyone says, nothing comes close to that. Lovers are replacable, you grow out of mothers; even brothers you can get over.
Nuh-uh. You've only got one shot there and it's too late for George Weasley.
But what George will never, ever forget, is that when Fred died, a little piece of him died too.
Not in the metaphorical, I-can't-live-without-you sense, but quite literally.
The second Fred Weasley's eyes turned black and that-one-half-of-his-soul-that-doesn't-really-belong-to-him-anyway was cast into oblivion, George's own heart stopped beating for a moment.
It was just a second, but it happened all right.
And that scares George even more than the thought of living his life alone.
Because six months, two weeks, four days, seven hours, twenty two minutes and eight seconds ago, George Weasley died.
And he doesn't think he's ever coming back.
A/N: Just to say ... I, personally, think losing a lover/brother/mother must be one of the most awful things to have to go through, therefore George's views don't reflect my own. I cannot stress that enough.