Author's Note/ Disclaimer
This is just a series of scenes, during and after Deathly Hallows, that are mainly George-centric. There's implied Fred/George and definitely George/Hermione naughtiness. And, none of these characters are mine, but enjoy!
Poses
"George, don't let me go."
He could still hear his voice in his head. Small gasps, sighs, and muffled moans. Snatches of memories of those moments of fear, in between hiding and facing death. Time was stolen from them.
No one had told him. They couldn't, words were stumbled over and choked off by tears, and then given up on. Grief would have to suffice.
He'd come upon them in the Great Hall, after panicking when he found himself alone. They couldn't meet his eyes, couldn't bear to look at a living reminder of what was now lost.
He was on his knees, he was lying across his twin's dead body, he thought he heard a heartbeat, a breath being taken, anything…A whisper, "Fred."
"He's not coming back."
"Oh shut up won't you?" He lashed out.
She turned away, wiping at her tears angrily. "You know some of us cared about Fred too, George." She stood up and slammed the door as she left, the sarcasm in her voice still biting.
He put his head in his hands and bit back a sob.
It happened only once, more of a mistake than anything. Both of them still angry, still grieving, close to devouring each other. Up against the wall, her skirt hiked up around her thighs and ass, she had her hands on his face.
He came in short gasps, thrusting into her hard, his fingers leaving dark bruises on her hips. He moved one hand to her front, working her with his thumb until she came, panting and falling against him.
They stayed like that for a minute or two, feeling the rise and fall of each other's chests as their breathing evened out. When he invited her to bed she didn't say no, but she was gone before he woke the next morning.
He finally stopped dreaming about him one night in October. He slept all through the night, not once waking up with muscles tensed, or hands clenched into tight fists.
He sat up in bed and blinked in the sunlight. 12:20, the clock read.
George Weasley padded into the kitchen, made some toast and tea, and moved on.