"Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality."

-Emily Dickinson

The night of May 2, 1998 went down in Wizarding history as the night that Voldemort had finally been defeated. Numerous brave witches and wizards arrived at Hogwarts that night fighting for everything they believed in, the risk of harm did not prevent any of them from defending the castle from the evil that had befallen it. It was a battle 16 years in the making.

From the moment Harry Potter stepped foot back inside Hogwarts that night, everything had changed. Dumbledore's Army, The Order of the Phoenix, Hogwarts staff, and countless students joined together to fight the evil that had been looming over their heads since the Dark Lord returned in the graveyard during the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. These brave witches and wizards were fueled by hope and determination.

Though many had lost friends and family that day, a part of George Weasley died when he lost his twin brother, Fred. The sight of his brother lying motionless would be burned into his memory forever. Fred's once sparkling and mischievous brown eyes were cold and empty, forever locked onto the ceiling of the Great Hall. That night was what truly broke George.

His siblings and parents tried to comfort him in the moment, but the light inside George went dark. He screamed for his brother while his mother clutched to him, tears streaming down her own face. George heard nothing, not even his own cries and screams. His ears were ringing, his heart was pounding, he felt as if he was going to die right there next to Fred - he wanted to die there next to Fred. Any moment without him wasn't worth living.

"Fred please!" he yelled, throwing himself over his twin's body. He was wailing in pain, he didn't want to go on, he couldn't go on without his brother.

The immediate aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts was filled with immense grief and sorrow for everyone. What should have been a joyous time, a time of newly found freedom and safety was marred by the memories of the innocent lives lost at the hands of Death Eaters. Even though the sky seemed to brighten and the warmth of summer had returned, many people who were present at the battle left with their own personal clouds hanging over their heads.

Though no one truly lost as much as George Weasley. Without Fred he felt like nothing, he lost the will to live entirely, each day was spent just going through the motions. Things he used to love only brought him pain. Sweets tasted bitter, quidditch bored him, jokes were depressing, nothing could bring him joy. Not after everything was taken from him so suddenly.

-

The funeral was the following weekend and George had not spoken more than ten words to any of his family members in that time.

"Good morning, darling." Molly spoke softly as George had emerged from upstairs that morning.

Ginny, Harry, and Arthur were already sitting at the kitchen table silently. All eyes were on George when he entered the room and sat next to his father, this was the first time he had come down from their... his room.

"Mm." he responded to his mother who was already setting a warm cup of tea in front of him, as if reading his mind.

Ginny inhaled as if to say something to her brother but she felt a gentle squeeze on her hand from Harry who shook his head when she looked over at him. George kept his eyes down, occasionally sipping his tea but the tension in the room was getting to him.

He set his tea cup down firmly and looked up at his family, "Can you all please stop gawking at me?"

Immediately everyone's eyes diverted and they shifted awkwardly in their seats.

"We are all just worried-" Ginny whispered before George interrupted her.

"Well don't be. I'm fine." George said flatly, not meeting his sister's gaze.

Quickly regretting his decision to emerge from his room, he promptly finished his tea, kissed his mother on the cheek, and climbed his way back upstairs. It was a beautiful summer day, given the circumstances. Bill, Fleur, and Charlie had arrived in the early afternoon to help set up chairs out in the garden for their friends and family who would be joining them later to celebrate Fred's life.

More and more people began arriving at The Burrow. Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell arrived clinging to each other for support, Oliver Wood and Lee Jordan arrived shortly after them and the four former school friends joined up to chat about quidditch, sharing their funniest stories about Fred while laughing through their tears.

Minerva McGonagall and Hagrid had arrived together interlocking their arms as they made their way to their seats. Hagrid made his entrance known by blowing his nose loudly into a large handkerchief.

George gazed out his bedroom window down to the garden and dreaded what was to come. He truly didn't think he could handle it, he had completely shut down his emotions since the previous weekend just to survive. If he let himself grieve he was afraid he would never be able to function again, he had to bottle it up if he wanted any chance of going on with his life.

There was a soft knock on the door, "George darling, can I come in?"

"Yeah."

Molly entered the room and sat on the bed as she watched her son stand next to the window, "Sit next to me dear."

George refused to look at his mother, he knew if he did he wouldn't be able to hold it together. If there was one person he believed could ever come close to feeling his amount of pain after losing Fred, he knew it would be his mother. Turning from the window, he made his way around to the bed and sat down next to her, locking his eyes on the ground.

Molly rested her hand on George's knee, "I love you George."

Four words that were so simple, but the sound of them made George break down, it was all too real. How could he ever accept the love of his mother when he blamed himself every waking moment for being the one to survive? He would give anything to bring his brother back and trade places.

With tears soaking his freckled cheeks, he buried his head into is mother's shoulder and let out all the emotion he had been holding in for the last week. She wrapped one arm around her son and with her other hand gently stroked his hair as she let him cry.

"I can't go down there. I can't do this, mum. I can't say goodbye."

Molly's voice was shaky from her own tears now, "You know Freddie wouldn't want you to hide in here forever, darling."

He knew she was right but it was too painful to go down there, he would have to face all of their friends and family. They would try to sympathize with him, they would tell him that time heals all wounds, and that Fred was looking down on him. None of them could ever understand that when Fred died, he died too.

Molly gently patted him on the back, "It's time, George."

Reluctantly, they stood up together and he instinctively grabbed Molly's hand for support. She gave it a gentle reassuring squeeze before leading her son out of the bedroom. When they descended the stairs and entered the kitchen, nearing the door out into the garden, George felt something bubble up inside him, something he had never felt before.

Letting go of his mother's hand, he felt the entire room start spinning around him and like he couldn't get enough oxygen in his lungs, an immense feeling of dread took over his body and he was glued to the spot he stood in. The idea of going out there and saying goodbye was too much.

"Mum, I can't. I really can't." George whispered shaking his head, his breathing quickened as his heart raced.

His legs started to feel weak so he backed into the wall behind him, sliding down to rest on the floor as the pain inside his chest grew. He had never felt anything like this before, it really felt like he was dying, he had no control over his body anymore.

"George it's alright, you're alright." his mother whispered as she crouched down next to her son, gently rubbing his back.

"What's happening to me?" he breathed looking to his mother desperately through tear stained eyes, he was barely able to get the words out as he clutched his knees to his chest.

"It's a panic attack, darling. It will pass, I promise."

The window in the kitchen was open, letting in a warm summer breeze. The air felt so heavy to him, he was suffocating - drowning in his grief. This was George's reality now, he knew he would never truly be himself again. He could never love again.