Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its characters. J.K. Rowling does, though.
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I stared at the closed eyes of my twin. The grin on his face.
His last laugh.
Why, Fred, why did it have to be you who died? Why not me?
I wanted to cry, but no tears appeared on my face.
Why couldn't I cry?
It was my brother, my twin who had died, and I couldn't cry.
I was ashamed of myself.
I watched as the casket's lid closed.
I wanted to stop them. Fred didn't like the darkness, he hated it.
I didn't stop them.
I didn't stop them from closing the casket's lid, and I didn't stop them from dumping it into the cold, dark, ground.
I just watched.
"George, it's time to go."
"B-but Fred! Are we going to leave him here?"
"George, Fred's gone."
"No. No, he's not gone! He isn't gone..."
"Come on George, let's go."
"No! Fred! We need to take Fred!"
A tear slipped down my cheek.
And another.
And another.
I wept.
It was the first time I cried since his death.
"Fred, why didn't you take me? Why didn't you take me with you? Why did you have to leave me here?"
Sobs wracked my body.
"I want to be with you, Fred. I want to be with you, even if it means I have to die."
Someone grabbed me by my shoulders, shaking me.
"George, snap out of it!"
"But I want to be with Fred..."
I pulled myself from the person's grip, and ran towards the river next to the graveyard.
"Stop him! He's going to try and-"
His next words were muffled by the river's water.
Fred, I'm coming. You won't be alone. I'm going to see you again.
I smiled.