Author's Note: I'm warning you right now, this is a hell of a lot different from my other stories. Yes, it's George-centric. But no, there's no romance (well, not really). It's random, it's insane, it's passionate. The italics are there for a reason, and please pay attention to the way this is structured. If you really read it, you can understand the progression behind the writing. I wrote this while listening to "My Friends" from Sweeney Todd; I thought it was a fitting song for this. Plus, I just saw Sweeney Todd again and really enjoyed it. It gave me muse. :)

Disclaimer: I don't think JKR would do this to her characters. xD

Insomnia
A George Fanfiction
July 12, 2008

He was…passionate.

There was a smile on his face, sick and twisted from all the transformations that occurred in the past months. It was not physical; on the outside, the man looked identical to his former appearance. Btu the smirk on his lips was different; frightening, even.

He strode with a purpose, eyes locked on something only he could see. The man's knuckles were white as he gripped the wand; it was the only evidence left of his former life. It would not be lost. If he cared about anything in the world, it was the damn wand. Funny, that he should care about it. Funny, that he should be so attached to a world that betrayed him. Funny, that he would use it to commit his last and final act.

The night was hauntingly dark; even the stars thought it unwise to show their faces on such a night. Or perhaps it was an enchantment, the man did not know. A previous glance to the sky had shown no signs of clouds; it was doubtful that they were there. But he did not care who cast the ominous enchantment. All he knew was that it was there, it was there, it was there, it was so damn close, he was coming, it was coming, revenge is on his tail, good god he'll finally be able to rest again, just give him a night's sleep that's all he asks.

His smirk deepened as his stride quickened; his face grew more and more inhuman as he strode through the inky darkness. The glowing blue of his eyes grew more and more vibrant – was it possible that he was transforming physically now? Was it possible that he would finally reflect what was on the outside? God, he was almost there, he was so close, he could see it, for fuck's sake he could taste it he could taste him god he was almost there he would reach him he would murder him it would be over god why can't he find them they should be here he left them right here right here right this morning and now they were gone where are they why can't he sleep?

It wouldn't be long and he would have revenge on his breath. The man couldn't decide whether or not to commit a brutal murder; it would not be as satisfying to simply rip the murder's life away with a simple spell. No, he would have to do it the hard way, perhaps he would snap his wand now. Long fingers caressed the familiar wood, but it did not bring the same comfort that it once did. The days where such a simple stick could bring security were gone. He knew that even magic couldn't save him now. Because magic couldn't save them from him. He knew she'd been good at magic, god she'd been good at it, she was the only one besides him (and he didn't like to talk about him, that was always a 

forbidden topic in their home, but why did he have to get mad at her so much?) who could ever curse him. He'd murder that man, he was so close, it was almost within touching distance…

An eerie silence had settled over the night, and the shadowy man in the street could hear the soft snores of his nemesis. It would be satisfying to hold his wand to the man's throat, but he wanted to make the man suffer and experience fear the way he'd experienced fear, how dare he be able to live the way he did, he never got to live a normal life, was it so much to ask to be happy, and why couldn't he sleep, all he wanted was some sleep, he hadn't gone so far as to shut his eyes in weeks, what was so wrong with a moment of rest but even that was gone why couldn't he just escape?

The door was unlocked, a lucky break that he hadn't been expecting. Eyes like fireflies continued to glow their ominous glow as the man peered around. It was disgusting, the luxury this murderer of children lived in. He would kill him for that as well. There were so many reasons this man should be killed, why was it that God would take the innocents but not the guilty? But he'd stopped believing in god long ago, and he knew he had to work, there was work to do and sleep to get and he'd see them again but they wouldn't forgive him because he was too late last time and they were dead and their blood was on the floor and it was on his hands and it was gone, all gone, in just an instant one instant that could ruin a lifetime of work, he would kill him as soon as he got some sleep…

He walked through the house, silent and stealthy as he was trained to do, the smirk never slipping off his face and the passion never leaving his body. He would be passionate about this one last task, this one thing that he had to do before he could see them again. He would e able to see their smiling faces, hear their tinkling voices, smell her beautiful smell, and it would all be well again, he knew it, he just had to find him, why was he in a house so large, this murderer didn't need it, he needed it when they were alive, they were a growing family and he didn't want to live as he once lived… God he wanted some sleep, he wanted to lie down on that couch, he wanted to feel the soft satin of the pillow against his cheek because then maybe it would feel like her hand and he missed her hand, her touch, her voice, her everything, why was everything always gone?

Moments crept by and still the man searched, the glow of his eyes growing brighter and brighter as the passion threatened to spill out of him. He would find this murderer and he would kill him and become a murder himself, but wasn't he a murderer anyway? He'd killed many that night at Hogwarts and he remembered the satisfaction of throwing that man down and that was the only thing he remembered from that night besides the pain no he couldn't remember the pain ata time like this he had work to do but if he were he would talk him out of this but he had to do it he had to vindicate him and he had to sleep and rest and he would see them again soon he would see them all again and it would be the most 

magical moment of his life despite growing up around the wonders that Muggles thought only dwelled in stories…

There was a creaky stair; the man would have to remember to avoid that…. But he wouldn't in the end because the door was right there and the snoring was loud enough that it was a drumbeat behind his ears… It was time, it was time, he would finally kill him and get some sleep and his eyes were gleaming like never before and the smirk changed to a grotesque grimace as the redheaded man picked up the silver knife that rested next to the wand in his pocket. He'd kill him, the time was finally here, he could see the blood pumping through his veins, in moments he would be dead and he would have some sleep and god he needed that release more than anything in the world…

He lifted his arm and the knife caught the moonlight; the grimace turned to a smile. The man's arm was steady and controlled; it would be an easy kill. It would be simple to take this man's life in his hands and extinguish it like he'd extinguished theirs and he wasn't there to save it, he wasn't there to hear them scream his name and god they screamed his name she told the children that he'd be home and that he'd save him, don't worry, kids, Daddy will be here soon, that's what she said through her tears, but Daddy never came instead he was at work and he wasn't even working he was sound asleep… What he would do to take away that moment of sleep, maybe that was why he couldn't sleep anymore, sleeping was for the good and he wasn't good, he was bad, just as bad as the man with the blood pumping beneath him, he would kill him in merely moments, all he had to do was plunge it down…

Crimson spurted around the room and splattered onto the face of the vindictive father. A pleased smile spread curled on the newest murder's lips as he watched his victim sputter for a few moments before lying still. Dark red soaked the sheets, seeping onto his bedmate, he would have to kill her too, it would only take a few more moments, and so he stabbed her too and the blood continued to spread and he would eventually have to kill everyone in the house and that only took him thirty minutes but why did he not fall asleep, was there ever any rest for the triumphant and weary?

George staggered outside as the sun made its way through the thick darkness; the crimson of the sun matched the hue of the blood that splattered across his face and arms. An inhuman wail ripped through his vocal cords, eyes beyond tears and throat beyond sobbing. Confused residents poked their heads out the windows, cries of shock echoing from all the houses as they looked at the bloodstained man. The howl lasted fo what seemed like ages of the earth; those who heard it could not bear it; they could hear the agony in his cry.

It came as no surprise for the few witnesses that George eventually pulled his wand out of his pocket and pressed it against his skull, gritting his teeth in determination. All he'd wanted was some sleep, some rest, some break from this hand that life dealt him and when he tried to get it back for what it'd dome to him it just kicked him in the face again he wanted some damn sleep and the sun was rising again and that was another sleepless night and it was wasted. He would get out, he would get out, he would get away, he'd see them again. He'd see Angie and Junior and Roxie again, he'd apologize for letting him murder them, he'd promise to never leave them alone again, it would be all right…

"Avada Kedavra".