I stopped. I stopped at the edge, hands flying to my eyes. You see, I was far enough away to not be able to tell. I was just far enough to not know, exactly. I was at the brink, the edge. If I came any closer I might see the body only had one full ear. I might see the freckle on the neck. I might know. See? You wouldn't blame me for standing on the brink.

It was grey outside. I used to like it when the sky was dark grey, and I could wrap myself up in blankets and just stare out into the dying light. Dark used to mean comfort. But now everything was a dark, seeping grey, like it had bled out of the sky, dripping, leeching. The people were coated in grey. But it was the grey around the Weasleys that scared me the most. It was their gray that sent the pain aching in my jaw. The Weasleys were covered in thick, thick grey, like it was fog around them. I watched them stand over a body, limp, tall, and I knew I couldn't go over there.

"Oh, no, no no, oh Merlin no, heavens please, no..." I breathed. My feet were numb, my legs wobbling. My wand hung loosely in my hand. It was a dance, around me, a quiet dance, the lovers holding eachother, the families rocking over their departed, and I stood, on the edge, and watched the grey.

Harry was there. I noticed him on the edge of my vision. He was closer than I was, a few feet closer. He must've seen, because he looked up at me, just a quick flick of his eyes. I thought I heard him whisper. I thought I heard him say sorry. It might've just been me. He was gone after that. He couldn't even look at me. He couldn't even look at me, after all of this?

I felt Hermione's eyes on me, I saw her look up from the body and tug gently on Ron's shoulder, as if she was afraid that if she pulled too hard, he would just come apart at the seams. I wished she would just leave him alone. She didn't need to bring attention to me. I wanted to stand here, far away, and stare.

I was fine, here, on the brink. I couldn't see the details. Even if the body was the one just a little more complete, then it might be just as terrible. But if it was the one with the freckle and the half ear and the lilting smile - I would crumple to the ground, I wouldn't get up. And instead of standing here I would be laying there, content to stay for the rest of my life, content to go too. We used to play a game like that. A dare game, a theoretical one.

We sat in the dying light of the common room fire. It started out innocent. Would I help him sneak ground Ton-Tongue Toffee into Snape's food? Maybe, depends on my potions grade, really. Would I steal the bludger and hold it down while he charmed it pink and sparkly? And risk angering wood? Of course not. I wasn't on a suicide mission. But the questions grew somber with the dying light. His head rested on my lap, I twisted his hair between my fingers, braiding it. The smile on his face, stretched wide with choking back laughter from my response, suddenly faded.

I paused, searching his face, his eyes, for any of the earlier elation, but it had evaporated. It was strange, uncomfortable even, the sight of a Weasley twin's face without the smirk. I breathed lightly, as if my any motion would bring about something frightening.

"Adisson Kerr, if I went to Azkaban, would you come with me?" I blinked. Would I? I had known the Weasleys ever since my first year. I didn't know what else I would be able to do. Would it be better to sit in the silence of the Weasley house?

"Merlin, Adds," George breathed, "I was just messing with you. You look as if I've gone and died right now." He squinted at me, "you actually look ridiculous. Right terrible, really." I was stunned. I wanted to laugh, to pretend that I had known the whole time, that I was just playing along, but I couldn't. I forced a smile and smoothed his hair into his eyes, causing him to squint. I laughed shallowly, the laugh of a first year teasing her crush, but it came out childish.

"You really are the most awkward thing," he whispered, smile growing.

"You're one to talk, Weasley," I countered, but my normal sharp tone and fast wit had fallen limp, and the words carried the disheartened tone of scolded child. Merlin, what was wrong with me? One serious question and I fall to bits and pieces? But George's chest had already begun to shake as he held his laughter in, but it escaped out into the room, growing, twisting. An angry prefect stormed into the room, and we were sent running.

It was the same sort of stunned that held me rooted to the ground, even when Hermione patted my shoulder nervously. I knew I would've, back then, I might've. That can't be healthy, can it? Can you love dangerously? Precariously?

Hermione pulled me into a hug, arms wrapped around my stony, cold figure. I didn't respond.

"Adisson..."

Silence.

"You have to trust me, Adisson." She pulled my hand, but I watched it, unconcerned, as it moved away from my body. "C'mon, Addy." I closed my eyes. No. No, no, no. Her hand trembled slightly. She was waving, waving to the tall, grey dripping man. The man that was either my friend or just mine.

"No," I whimpered, shutting my eyes again, crossing my arms across my chest, backing up. My jaw clenched, and the pain spread down my throat. I gasped, biting on the inside of my lip to keep the years from spilling out.

And then I was raised up onto the tips of my toes, wrapped into a hug, and I was shaking my head, hitting my hands against his chest.

"Adds...Addy..."

I went quiet after a few minutes. Stony quiet, and limp, but I refused to open my eyes. I let myself be hugged. I let my head rest on his shoulder. I let myself pretend.

It was an accident. It took me by surprise, really. A column, loosened earlier by a rogue spell, must've hit the floor, shattering. People scattering, screams. I opened my eyes in shock.

A freckle. Just a freckle. That's all I saw. And then, up from there, a half ear. I very beautiful little half ear, really. The most beautiful half ear I had ever seen. I jumped up, squeezing him, crying outright, laughing high, crazy laughs. I suppose I looked a little bit ridiculous, clinging to him, and in any other time he would've laughed. And then I saw his broken eyes. He wasn't laughing. He wasn't crying. His face was contorted, and he was whimpering.

"Oh…" I pulled away, my arms fell from around his neck. "Oh, Georgie," I wiped away his tear, biting my lip. He hated that name, he really did, but he didn't respond. He pulled me towards the Weasleys as I clung to him, gripping his dirty shirt. I buried my head in his shoulder.

"No," I whispered. No, no. I sunk to my knees and he followed. He was there, Freddie, my best friend, Freddie.

"Freddie," I whispered, as if he would open his eyes to me, as if he wouldn't wake for the screams of his siblings, but he would wake for me. His face was sallow, straight.

"Hi, Freddie," a twisted smile grew on my lips, "I found that spell you were looking for. It's not exactly what you want, but we could fix it, and it would work fine." He didn't respond. "I think it'll be a real money-spinner, Freddie." Not a sound. I got mad then. I hated when I was so blatantly ignored. "Freddie, stop, this isn't funny." I felt Molly's eyes on my face. My hands spread on the ground, and I looked to the ceiling, feeling the pain bubble up in my jaw.

"Stop, Freddie." George wrapped his arm around my waist, trying to pull me towards him, away from his twin.

"Adisson, dear," Molly's voice dropped to the ground, heavy. "Shut up," I hissed. Molly's face went flat immediately, but she softened, taking my hands in hers. I yanked them away, shoved George away. I needed space. My head was full, vibrating with sound. "No, no, no…" my whispers turned into screams, and George dragged me away. I kicked him, kneed him, but he was a good six inches taller than me, and he pinned my arms to my side. In the growing light, I sobbed.

"Did Harry…." my head dropped, and I stared at our hands, woven together, the shadows lengthening in the light. "Did he…"

"He's in the forest." George's voice was monotone, with inflections like a smooth river rock beaten by the river. We lapsed into silence again. Earlier, I had seen Lupin and Tonks, but at that point, all I did was stare. I stared and let the impossibility of it fill me up. It didn't seem right, applicable. I tried to match up those two bodies with the laughs in my memories, Lupin's dry sarcasm and earnest looks, Tonks loud, bubbling laughing. They didn't fit. George had noticed me looking, but offered me nothing.

"I should go apologize to Molly."

George shook his head. "No, she understands."

"It was mean."

"She understands, Adisson." Adisson. He called me Adisson. It seemed unfair, in that moment, and I resisted the urge to start crying again. Blimey, I was acting like a five year old. I let myself sit in my self resentment. It felt good, and I almost smiled.

"I'm not the only one…." I wanted to end the sentence. Grieving? Crying? Dying? They were dramatic. "I don't want to be the cause of….anything." He didn't respond, that time. I looked up into his face. It was hard, vacant, like the George I knew had been forced out and was shriveling on the floor, drying alone in a corridor somewhere.

"They're coming," Cho yelled, running by. George untangled us and climbed to his feet. He took my hand, expecting me to pull myself up as well, but I was lost. I was lost in the past.

"I saw this," I breathed. I saw this before, this scene. I had stood here. I had seen the bodies, seen the Weasleys huddled around a body. I wasn't able to see who exactly, in the haze of the dream. Cold air, screaming, and then I had woken up, in the night. The next day, I had looked into the eyes of the twins, and I had known. I hated knowing like this.

Time flowed behind my eyes, fragments floated in the air, and vibrated under my fingertips. I grew up with wisps of it stuck in my hair and coating my skin. I grew up knowing.

I grew up a Seer.

Hello! This is my first fic. I'm a big fan of Harry potter, and thought I might get some writing practice by authoring fanfics. This is George/OC. I've been thinking a lot about different kinds of grief lately, and how people deal in their own way. This OC copes a lot like I do, but also a lot differently.

If I get enough reviews, I might either prequel or sequel it, but if not, i'll just leave it as an angst one shot. Keep in mind, if I were to write more, Adisson would be a little more fiery. She's actually quite a snappy, sharp piece of work, but obviously this is neither the time nor place for dry sarcasm and relentless teasing. I don't think anyone's much clever when their friends and lovers have just died...and on that joyful note, enjoy!

Also, I've seen the movies, and I'm in the process of reading the books, but I haven't gotten to the last one yet. So I apologize about any slight inaccuracies in advance.

I only own Adisson Kerr. Every other character/storyline/pretty much everything is not mine, but J.K. Rowling's. She is amazing!