I winced as Hermione yet again tried to examine my wound, growing desperate as more and more blood rushed out of my body. Harry was pale, his hands running through his dark hair.

"That should have been me." He whispered over and over again.

He was glass, carefully held together by his friends and his love during the war, but now the hits he had taken were starting to take hold. He was shattering right before my eyes.

"George, I'm going to get help. Um... don't... just don't....." Hermione trailed off, unable to get herself up and actually go for help that I needed.

When Fred came back, they would have to see the same pain reflected in his eyes. That was what was so hard for them, they knew that they were trading one hurting twin for the other and that wasn't ok with them.

"GEORGE!!!!" A scream pierced the air.

Hermione looked up with a small squeak. Her hand flew to her mouth in shock and her eyes switched from me back to the intruder and then back to me. Harry simply gasped, unmoved because of the world weighing him down.

"George." The voice whispered again, taking in his surroundings.

I turned my head slowly, black dots swimming in my vision but my desperation to see the person belonging to the voice overruling everything.

He was alive.
He was here.
He was worried.

"I'm gone for less than three days and you manage to set off a zombie apocalypse, discover and thwart a plot by a death eater, and get stabbed in the gut." He whispered, scavenging for anything funny to counter his fear.

I smiled.

My brother was alright.

He was standing here with me.

He wasn't green and he wasn't dead.

And I was alright because he was alright.