Disclaimer: Despite the fact that this story is about Fred being dead, this should not imply that Fred is actually dead. Furthermore, although it is my wish to describe the drugs in this story to the best of my ability, I am refraining from going into depth for a couple of reasons:
I don't want to teach anyone how to do drugs.
I want to keep the content appropriate.
With that said, I hope you enjoy the story.
Love, Marcussy (:
P.S. Don't do drugs. That's the moral of this story.
P.P.S I know nothing about drugs, so don't blame me if my story's inaccurate. (:
Fred is dead.
Something about those words seemed unbelievable. It was an event that George never imagined to ever occur. It was difficult to swallow. George looked down at the coffin that his twin brother lay in-- dead. The church, or rather small and cramped building, was dark in sorrow. Filled with members of the Weasley clan, all dressed in their finest black robes. George glanced down at his dead brother before glancing back at the crowded church, in which friends and family had gathered to mourn this loss. There was a clear pathway...cut through the center of the church. If he could only...
Before anyone could stop him, he had sprinted down the path and out of the small and cramped church. Outside, it was cold, and wind blew through the moor grasses. He saw his mum outside the church, waving for him to come back, along with his brother Ron and his sister Ginny. But he didn't care. Without thinking, he led himself to the old tree that his brother had been found dead next to. Nobody else knew, but this tree... it meant a lot to Fred and George.
That day, back in the summer a few years back...they had gone into the muggle world. Only Ron knew that they had gone there, everyone else assumed they'd went off to Honeydukes. There, in the muggle world, Fred and George met a muggle named Owen. Owen had showed them some pretty interesting stuff. Most notably, opiates. Heroin, specifically.
Fred and George never saw Owen again after that, but they did see opiates. And a lot of them. Owen had showed them how to make it...so if you smoked it, you could achieved a feeling so high, that it was possible to lose control. You couldn't get this feeling from just eating candy or drinking butterbeer.
They had hidden the heroin and their paraphernalia in a pocket of roots at the bottom of the tree. It was hidden incredibly well-- not anybody could just simply stumble upon it. George had never smoked as much as Fred. Despite being twins, Fred's personality was much more prone to addiction. It had gotten to a point that Fred would have to sneak out every five hours to smoke another toke for risk of feeling low. George could handle going without it, he didn't even care for it much...his brain was still there, in perfect order. That's why...that's why George could still remember that fateful day, as clearly as if it was just yesterday.
The sun had been high in the sky, and the sky couldn't have been bluer. Ron was in good spirits as he'd just won a Quidditch bet against Ginny, and now did not have any chores for the rest of the week. Fred, however, was low. He hadn't smoked in a day, and he badly wanted George to go take a toke with him.
"Come'on...just one more till tomorrow?" Fred begged him. Dark circles under his eyes made his face appear paler than it already was. His red hair was tousled and he looked extremely unhappy. George couldn't stand to see his brother like that. He nodded slowly.
"Okay, but just for today," George said. Fred seemed to immediately perk up as they wandered off to the special tree. When they got there, Fred dove for the goods. He used his wand to automatically prepare and speed up the process of preparing the smack, and it went swimmingly. Then, toke in hand, he breathed in the friendly vapors.
"George...you really must have some." Fred mumbled. George nodded and picked up a pipe. He filled it and breathed in the vapors as well.
Fred and George exchanged an explicit joke, involving a dirty word and the Ministry of Magic. Billows of laughter escaped Fred's mouth. George began laughing as well. Fred was shaking with laughter. George turned to him, Fred lay on the grass next to the tree, shaking and laughing... George continued to laugh. Fred had stopped laughing, he was just shaking violently. Something in George's brain told him to do something. He got up and grabbed Fred.
"Come on Fred, you've got to stand up! You've got to walk around!" He shouted desperately. Fred fell over.
George was frightened. He hid the goods, and left Fred, dead, under the tree before running back to the house. Now, as George sat under the tree, he remembered that the drugs were still there. They were still hidden under the roots as Fred had last left them. George pulled out a pipe. The smooth glass felt cool in his hands. Before he knew it, the vapors were rising through his mouth and nose and into his brain. He imagined that Fred was there too, smoking with him. It was sweet euphoria. It felt so good, it was almost as if Fred had never died.
In the following days, George would sneak out to go smoke heroin by himself. He didn't know why, but it just made him forget all his worries. He didn't feel bad about Fred's death, and it brought him to a better-- higher place. His pipe was like his best friend. A comforting reminder of Fred, with the benefit of getting him high. One night, George woke up in a foul mood. It was around 1 AM in the morning. He woke up and slowly got out of bed, slipping on a maroon sweater and jeans. Maybe...he could just creep down to the tree and smoke a toke...He crept out of his bedroom. The wood floors squeaked slightly. Luckily, he made it down to the door before anybody woke up-- or so he thought.
"Where are you going?" George turned around. Ron stood behind him, still wearing his pajamas.
"Oh...out to the tree...to think about stuff," George answered, it was half true.
"Mind if I come? I've been shook up about Fred's death," Ron said. George nodded slowly, his brain not really functioning. The two wandered off to the tree.
"Mind if I smoke?" George said to Ron, seated beneath the tree.
"What? You smoke? That's a muggle thing, isn't it?"
"It helps me take my mind off of Fred..."George mumbled, lighting up his pipe. Ron nodded, still a little puzzled.
"Can...can I try?"
"Yeah, sure." Fred said, handing Ron Fred's old pipe. The two sat under the tree, sniffing the vapors. George began to shake violently. Ron dropped his pipe in surprise, it cracked under the tree. Ron's eyes wide with surprise and wonder. Then, George had a convulsion. Ron didn't know what to do. He shook his brother and removed the pipe from his shaking hands. George stopped moving. His heart stopped beating.
George was dead.