I arrived outside the church and was instantly blinded by an onslaught of flashing lights.

"And here we have the infamous Veronica Weasley, also known as the Wicked Witch of the West Country."

A microphone was shoved in my face.

"Veronica, would you say this title is a fair assessment of you?"

"FUCK OFF!"

I angrily brushed the reporters arm aside and stormed down the red carpet which I could only assume Harry had the vicar lay down especially for the event.

What a complete fucktard.

"And next to arrive is the delectable Draco Malfoy looking very much in love with his future wife Bambi Peverell, despite the recent rumours of infidelity."

My heart stilled as I turned around to see Draco, indeed looking delectable in an all black suit, white-blond hair sat tousled just right over his sharp, handsome features.

Bambi was smiling next to him as he placed a hand on the small of her back. She was looking stunning in a dazzling yellow dress which lit up her eyes. I had to admit, they made every inch the gorgeous couple.

"They're just rumours," Draco announced into the microphone. "I trust my fiancée one hundred percent."

"Despite the fact that she was seen photographed in an extremely intimate manner with your best friend?" The reporter asked Draco, as if Bambi wasn't even standing there.

"What can I say," Draco answered, giving the reporter a sly grin that made his eyes twinkle, "we are all very close. Even I've been known to indulge in the occasional bro hug with Blaise."

A sound of laughter rose up in the air as Draco won over the surrounding photographers and reporters.

Fucking smooth git. He literally would do anything for approval. It was fucking pathetic.

I turned back around before either of them would notice me and quickly escaped into the church.

"Ah, Ronnie," Harry beamed, wearing white billowing robes that would rival the vicar's, welcoming me with open arms. "So glad you could make it."

"Harry, why are you dressed like fucking Jesus?" I asked, frowning at him as I shoved the gift bag in his hand.

"Oh, didn't I mention?" He said blinking at me nonplussed from behind those stupid glasses. "I'm going to be conducting the service."

"But you're not a fucking vicar!" I cried.

"The big bag of gold currently sat in the priest's office says otherwise," Harry winked conspiratorially.

My fucking god, my nephew was going to hell.

And I realised, with a dawning horror, that this meant the christening was going to go on for fucking hours whilst Harry made it all about how he heroically saved the world.

I spotted George sat at the back of the church, looking forlorn and alone in the back pew. It hurt me to see him without Fred. I just couldn't get used to it.

"Hey," I said quietly, "mind if I sit?"

He looked up, his face looking gaunt and tired. Grief had aged him, making him almost unrecognisable from the boy he had once been: a twin.

"Sure, Ronnie," he mumbled hoarsely, as if he hadn't used his voice in a long while.

I wanted to bring up his birthday, but I was terrified of how he would react. He already looked so broken.

"I think saving the world has gotten to that prick's head." I muttered, watching on as Harry welcomed an elderly couple to 'his' church.

"Yeah," George chuckled heavily. "Next he'll be claiming he can turn water into wine."

"Huh, actually, can we do that?" I asked, raising an inquisitive eyebrow. This could be very handy.

"Nah, we tried that when we were kids, remember?" George's soft chuckles suddenly ceased, and he immediately went still.

My heart felt heavier than ever. I remembered. It had been Fred's idea.

But all we had achieved was creating a weak tasting tea which Harry had sworn made him feel tipsy before Hermione announced that no, it was impossible to turn water into wine.

Fred and George had ripped the piss out of Harry for a long time after that, whipping away tea from under Harry's nose whenever he was about to drink some.

Without thinking, I grabbed George's hand and squeezed it in mine. Nobody ever brought up Fred. The unexpected memory had hit hard.

And I knew, if it was bad for me, it would be a million times worse for George.

"Oh, it's you," Harry announced loudly, as Draco and Bambi entered the church arm in arm.

"Potter," Draco sneered.

"Why the fuck did Harry invite that bloody ferret for?" George spluttered, sounding a little like his old self.

"Because he's a fucking sell out," I muttered, narrowing my eyes whilst I watched the greeting.

"Thank you for inviting us, Harry," Bambi said, kissing his cheek. "It's a real honour to meet you at last."

"I owe a lot to your family," Harry said, his eyes lingering on Bambi's chest a little too long, "just a shame you won't be a Peverell for much longer."

"Where would you like us to sit?" Bambi asked.

"If it was just you, then as near to the front as possible," Harry said, completely shamelessly before his eyes angrily darted to Draco. "But sadly I'm allergic to ferrets, so if you don't mind, kindly position yourselves to the back."

Oh for fuck's sake.

I went to stand up so that I could swiftly move to the front, but George tightened his hand around mine.

I looked down at him, startled.

"Please, Ronnie," he said, his eyes swimming in desperate pain. "Don't go. I can't do this without you."

Sighing, I sat back down. He had to pull out the fucking grieving brother card out on me, didn't he?

"Ronnie!" Bambi trilled as she and Draco moved down the pew towards us. "Thank goodness for the familiar face!"

Silver grey eyes met mine, and I felt the familiar horrific twist of my stomach at the nearness of him.

I tore my eyes away, in the pretence of allowing Bambi to kiss my cheek, trying not to cringe.

"And who's this?" She asked, beckoning down to George.

"George, this is Bambi, Bambi this is my brother George." I said, trying not to look anywhere near Draco.

"Oh, I've heard about you!" She said leaning past me to kiss George's cheek. "You're the one who- um, the one who..."

She tailed off, suddenly turning crimson red. It was quite clear she was about to say he was the one with the dead twin.

An awkward silence fell between us as Bambi took her seat next to me; Draco placing himself on her other side.

The church slowly filled up as Bambi prattled on about babies. I silently wondered if she realised the barren life she was condemning herself to, and then realised sadly that she had been pretty much bullied into it by her father.

Draco stayed silent and I made sure to keep my eyes forward, nodding and making the right noises as Bambi kept talking in between us.

And then the service started.

It went on for three and a half fucking hours.

I watched as Hermione and Neville both blubbered like fucking babies when they declared their intention of looking after my nephew and helping him along his Christian journey in life.

It was all such fucking bullshit.

I was glad I was getting away from it all.

"And of course, we shall not be forgetting what this special day signifies." Harry continued.

I heard George take a sharp intake of breath at exactly the same moment as Bambi stood up.

"Sorry, I must find a bathroom," she whispered, moving past Draco, leaving an empty space in between us. The barrier; gone.

I kept my eyes fixed firmly forward, looking at Harry who was dramatically sweeping his arms towards where we were sat.

"It is the day of my sadly departed brother in law's birthday. He would have been twenty something years old if he hadn't been needlessly murdered by Lord Voldemort's cowardly Death Eaters." He paused to pointedly glare at Draco who shifted uncomfortably.

George's hand swiftly fell out of mine and he covered his face. I closed my eyes, feeling the pain sweep over me. I couldn't believe Harry could mention it like this; so brazenly when he knew we all found it difficult to talk about.

"And I'm sure Fred is looking down from heaven," Harry continued, "proud to see his nephew; my son, share this wonderful day."

George suddenly stood up, hurriedly sweeping towards the exit. I went to move to go after him, when a hand grabbed my arm, halting me.

I glanced back to see Draco looking at me, his eyes full of sorrow.

"Ronnie," he murmured softly, "let him go."

Anger ripped through my stomach as I snapped my arm out of his grasp.

"He's not the one I need to let go." I hissed.

And I stormed out after my brother.

*****