Disclaimer: I always forget to add this, but I finally remembered! I don't own Harry Potter or the song "The Final Toast" by Hawk Nelson.

Pain. Unbearable pain. Not physical pain, but emotional pain. Fear, anger, hopelessness, despair. It made a Dementor seem like a cheery sort of fellow that everybody loved.

A knock briefly drove away the pain, before it settled back in with a vengeance. "George?" he heard Ginny call from the other side of the door. "Please come out. You should at least sit with us if you don't want to plan anything." Planning. They were planning Fred's funeral. His twin brother's, his other half's funeral. It nearly made George scream in agony. Fred was dead, he had left George behind. There would be no more midnight snacks together, no more inventing together, no morebeing together. There was no more Gred and Forge, just lonely old George.

More knocking interrupted George's bleak thoughts. "Please, George? Come out." He complied at last, pulling his body out of Fred's old bed at the Burrow with a nearly inaudible groan. He pulled open the door and stepped into his sister's waiting arms. "Thank you," she whispered before pulling him down the stairs and into the cramped kitchen of the Burrow. All eight remaining Weasleys were there along with Fleur, Harry, Hermione, and Lee Jordan. Molly Weasley hugged her second-youngest son tightly, nearly crushing his ribs.

"It's good to see you, Georgie," she said before pushing him into a chair and placing a quill and roll of parchment before him. "Just write down anything you might want to include, sweetheart." George sat staring at the table, the conversation between friends and family becoming a drone in his mind. He stayed like that until inspiration struck him. He picked up his quill and began to scribble furiously on the parchment. When he was done, he wordlessly showed his creation to his mother. She read it through and gave George a broad smile.

"This is lovely. I'm sure Fred will love it."

It was almost time for George's addition to the funeral. He breathed deeply and walked out onto the makeshift stage on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. He sat on a stool and started strumming an acoustic guitar. He had learned how to play in the Muggle village by the Burrow with Fred when they were twelve. Taking another deep breath, he began to sing.

"Warwickshire to Fraserville and all between

You have left us here a life of memories

You forever changed the lives of all of us who have known you

Truth be told, this world feels cold without you

You gave all of us a better name

So here's the final toast we raise to you, dear friend

Good times will never be the same

And our thoughts still remain

We'll hold you in our thoughts forever and a day

And we'll never be the same

So the last toast that we raise goes to you

So if you've ever lost someone that's close to you

Waiting for the answers like the spring to bloom

I hope their tears are wiped away

When they're at the pearly gates praying for you

You have made this world a better place

So here's the final toast we raise to you, dear friend

Good times will never be the same

And our thoughts still remain

We'll hold you in our thoughts forever and a day

And we'll never be the same

So the last toast that we raise –

So here's the final toast we raise to you, dear friend

Good times will never be the same

And our thoughts still remain

We'll hold you in our thoughts forever and a day

And we'll never be the same

So the last toast that we raise goes to you

The last toast that we raise goes to you"

As George ended the song he waved his wand and set off numerous crates of fireworks. They lit up the dusky sky with an image of a crystal goblet filled with Firewhisky. Beneath it in red and gold writing were the words, "In honor of Fred Weasley, one half of a whole." Goblets of Firewhisky appeared in everybody's hands.

"To Fred!" George cried.

"To Fred!" was the echo. George raised the goblet to his lips and threw his head back, downing it all in one go. As he swallowed, he could have sworn he heard his twin one last time.

"Thanks for the toast, Forge."