DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING. IT IS ALL J.K. ROWLING'S. I JUST MADE THE PLOT.

A/N: This follows the books, save the epilogue (which I didn't care for). Or at least it tries to follow them. I am human, ergo I will make mistakes. Also, this is a slash pairing, and while I have no intentions of writing explicit sex scenes, there is still romance between two men. If you don't like, please don't read. It's not my desire to make anyone uncomfortable. Also, this is going to be a three part story, I believe. I have ideas for two more "chapters." Hopefully you enjoy.
~Shaun

The Great Hall was blanketed in a glooming peace. Mourning surrounded everyone, enveloping them in an unwelcome embrace. The Weasleys clustered at one end of the hall, surrounding their fallen son and brother.

Harry could see Molly clinging to Arthur, fighting to stand against the gravity of seeing her worst fear realized. Arthur looked dumbstruck, eyes empty of the curiosity Harry had grown to enjoy.

Ron and Hermione stood together, entwined, supporting one another through the tears. Ginny was being cradled close by Fleur, her angry sobs echoing through the room. Fleur was sobbing silently, looking at her husband Bill who simply stared towards the floor with tears rolling down his cheeks.

Charlie gave heaving sobs as he held Percy, who shook with the force of his silent weeping.

Then there was George. Harry felt his breath catch a little as he looked at George. His eyes were empty, and tears flowed down his cheeks in an uninterrupted stream. He knealt down beside his twin, who had always been there. He didn't know what it meant to live without his twin. He knew that he was still alive. He could feel his own heart beating, the rise and fall of his own chest. But these actions seemed incomplete. He yearned for the comfort of knowing that another heart would beat in time with his, that another chest rose and fell. He just continued to stare at the lifeless man beside him.

And Harry continued to stare at him. He felt a need to rush to George, to tell him that his heart didn't beat alone. To let him know that there was another who felt completed by him. But he didn't, because now was a time for grief, not for love.

He didn't know exactly when he'd fallen in love with George. Sometime over the years they'd known each other, between laughing at the latest prank or playing Quidditch for hours, Harry started to feel more than just a passing attraction towards George. At first he dismissed it as nothing more than a brotherly love. Until George lost his ear during the Battle of Seven Potters. When he saw George lying there on the couch, a hole in the side of his head, Harry knew he couldn't deny what he felt anymore. He loved George in an earth-shattering way. And that terrified him. He knew that war was in the air and he knew that the chances of George getting hurt or killed were going up by the minute. He wanted nothing more than to hold George tightly that night and give him promises of safety and a peaceful life. But he knew they'd be empty and he couldn't know that George wanted the same thing. So he stayed away.

Now again he wanted to hold George. But he didn't, for fear of George's reaction, and for respect of Fred. Instead he knealt beside George and put and hand gently on his shoulder. George reached up and grabbed his hand and looked at him with a sorrow that hurt Harry to see.

"I'm here, George. For whatever you need. You're not alone in this," Harry whispered, trying to keep and even tone.

George nodded his thanks and turned back to Fred.