It had taken Molly and Arthur what felt like hours to get George to finally leave Fred's limp and lifeless body. The tears hadn't stopped, and he had kept whispering things to Fred, mostly that it should of been him. Now, they were at home. George closed the door to his and Fred's room before anyone could follow him in. He turned the light on to see and gritted his teeth to try fight the tears. Everything was something Fred once touched. He closed his eyes, memories flooding into his mind from the time they stayed up playing games, trying to come up with witty jokes. One Christmas they opened each other's presents just to fool their family and be able to say 'I'm not Fred he's Fred' when their family finally started to see little differences just to make them question who was who. He looked over to the bed where Fred should of been laying right now while they joked about how they defeated the dark lord like they had when they found out they had thrown snowballs at Voldemort's head in Harrys First year. He took a quivering breath in and even remembered Fred's last foot steps out of this room. They were going to celebrate tomorrow with a big dinner, but now no one felt like celebrating. Ron didn't even come home, he went off with Hermione to find her parents and bring them home. He sat down on his bed and looked over to the cold and empty bed "we did it Freddie." He whispered "we did it."
