-A Grievous Lesson-
-A 'Harry Potter' drabble-
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A light snow dusted the entire area as George sat down in it, the cold seeping through his thick trousers slightly. More snow was sprinkled over his flame-red hair, making him look like an iced gingerbread man. Pulling his wand from the pocket of his coat, he Banished the snow that sat on top of the stone in front of him and let his eyes read over the engraved name, tears threatening to fall onto the cold ground.
"It hurts, Gred," he whispered to the stone, "How do I make it go away?" He didn't hear the soft crunching of snow behind him which would've alerted him to another presence, but he did feel that presence wrap something warm and woollen around his shoulders.
"You'll catch your death out here," Tora chided lightly, kneeling beside him, "Everyone's worried about you."
"I'm fine." The statement came out a little colder than intended, something the Ravenclaw didn't miss. Leaning forward, she wrapped her arms around George's neck and rested her head beside his.
"It doesn't go away, but it does get easier. Believe me, I know." George looked at her in confusion and slight anger.
"How would you know-" he began, the anger lacing each of his words. There was no way she could possibly understand the pain he was going through.
"The year before Ryu and I started at Hogwarts my father died. He had a blood condition that caused it to clot spontaneously, and one day one of those reached his heart..." Tora trailed off, remembering how hurt she had been when her father had died, "My point is if you let yourself drown in what you're feeling then you're no better than that." She pointed to the headstone. George pulled the cashmere cloak tighter around his shoulders and sighed, letting the Ravenclaw rest her head on his.
"You never show it," he said finally, "No-one can tell whether or not you're in pain or whether it's something else."
"That's because my grief is something that I've had to hurriedly force my way through. You don't have to rush yours; Fred wouldn't have wanted it, anyway. He would've wanted you to be the regular prankster that we all know and love, and make sure that it stayed there permanently." Chuckling a little, the Gryffindor raised his hand and ran it along Tora's woollen arm, feeling more comfortable with his grief than he had in a long time thanks to the 'sister' hugging him tightly.
Just beyond the headstone stood a spectral figure, watching the two with a large grin on his face and the weight of death gone from his shoulders.
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Author's Note: This was the result of a thought I had while lying in bed one night after watching 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part 2' again.
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DISCLAIMER: The disclaimer applies to the characters and settings of the 'Harry Potter' series – J.K. Rowling – and Tora Altona – me.