It was over.
It was over.
It seemed forever as Angelina struggled to comprehend it. Several times she shook herself, pinched herself, cried, held onto Alicia- but there was the Dark Lord's body, being carried off to the chamber by the Hall. It was a hideous sight.
But it was now over. The war, the bloodshed- ended.
Yet it could never truly go away. She could see the horror wherever she turned. Professor Lupin- he was always professor in her mind- dead-his young wife, lying near him- she could see Colin Creevey's body all limp and cold, his little brother holding his dead brother's hand. What was his name again, David? Dennis?
But that wasn't what she needed to know, needed so desperately to know.
"Angelina," she heard someone say, but she had already brushed past, was running away from the Great Hall.
Hey, Ange, come when it's over.
I'm coming, I'm coming, she thought. But where are you?
Then she saw a flash of red, and her heart rose.
"Wait!" she called, and ran ahead, "Wait!"
The figure halted.
"Fred!"
Then he turned.
Her heart plummeted.
This Weasley twin was missing an ear, and his face was ashen grey.
Missing an ear.
But Fred wasn't, didn't, hadn't- it was George, George who had been attacked that night all those months ago. And Fred had stayed by him, always- why wasn't Fred there?
"George?" she whispered. "But-"
George just looked at her. Looked- straight into her eyes.
No! No, no, no, it can't be, it's impossible, it's a lie!
But somehow- somehow- she knew it wasn't.
"-"
The words died on her lips. George was still looking at her, with eyes- god, those eyes, they were so haunted, so empty- as if a part of him was dead, and it was like that, it was. She couldn't bear it.
"He's waiting," she said, blankly staring across at the wall. The torchlight flickered. "He said he'd wait. He told me to come."
"Angelina," George said in a low voice. "He's-"
"He's waiting. He doesn't break promises," she retorted brusquely.
In the back of her mind, she wondered how she could stride so fast, but before she knew it, she was running, running- were those people beside her? She didn't know, and she didn't care.
"Fred! FRED!"
Murmurs, colours, people- no, that didn't matter- where was he? Desperately she searched for red hair, but saw only Ginny- Mr Weasley- Mrs Weasley- Ron, sitting by Hermione Granger- Percy- her blood boiled a moment, but it wasn't time for that-
"He's there," she heard someone whisper, but was it for her? Everyone was looking for someone, but Fred would find her- he always would, he'd yell out some ridiculous, possibly obscene comment, and he'd be there.
"Angelina."
But it wasn't his voice.
"Katie, leave me alone," she cried fiercely, wrenching her arm from Katie's loose grip.
"But Angelina, he's there-"
"Where?"
Katie's voice broke slightly. "On the table- the corner- no, not that one- the other- the corner with Sophie."
That was when she saw him.
-
That night, she rested her head on the pillow. She was so tired, so tired.
Had it been a day since Harry had defeated the Dark Lord? Only a day? It must have been more than that. She felt as though a hundred years had passed.
I almost wish they had.
She tried to picture herself with wrinkled skin, grey-white hair, and failed. It wasn't her turn to die, not just yet.
Fred, she thought, and his face came to her mind, laughing, then serious, but always laughing beneath, always cheerful.
She missed him so much.
Why can't I cry?
The answer came, almost so quickly that she hated it.
Why cry if you can laugh?
'Ear, 'ear.
Isn't that getting a little old?
Old? Fred, did you 'ear that? She thinks it's getting old!
Smiling, wryly. You can't pretend to be Fred now. I can tell you two apart.
Shocking. You could always tell us apart. And for that, you can have these for free.
A packet of small bottles, flung her way.
What are these?
Trust us, you'll love 'em when you need 'em.
Inspecting a potion, the label.
Love Potions?
Nah, George, don't be stupid, Ange doesn't need those.
Don't I? – laughing with him.
Don't you start being stupid. You know you don't.
She buried her face inside her pillow.
Were you laughing when you died?
He must have, it was on his face- and it wouldn't have been right for him to leave, crying. Fred never cried.
Then she whispered, very softly, so no one would hear her,
"Fred."
She repeated his name, until she fell into darkness and nothingness.
The next morning, her pillow was wet with tears.
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A/N: Just an old fic I discovered while cleaning out the files on my computer. Almyra said it had some worth, so here it is!