A one-shot I found lying around in my archives.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.
Molly Weasley had never expected such a large family.
She was so grateful for every life that she bore. Fiery red hair. Grinning faces. People she could call her own. Family.
Oh the need that plagued her every second, every hour, every day to defend her family when others tried to destroy it. It burned her, a sizzling, searing energy that tore at her veins, urging her, pushing at the edges of her consciousness to protect. It terrified her. The consequences if she failed.
How could she have let one die?
It was with detached sadness did she watch her son – her poor, poor son – waste away as the days went by. Sure she had her fair share of crying. Of course not a night passed where she hadn't wished she had done things differently.
After all, she was the reason her dearest son had died.
She remembered being sad, watching as her kids grew up. They no longer needed her as much as they had when they were younger.
She remembered her brothers of course. They had died fighting. Died for a cause they had believed in. Died fighting to protect the only things they knew: life. But…
Fabian and Gideon Prewitt had died together.
You okay, Fred?
Yeah.
Her sons had not.
Me too.
The love and strength she must have had to willingly send her family into the clutches of war, and know that the pain that never leaves George's eyes, and the nothingness in Fred's…to know that this was entirely her blame, when somehow the world became more important than family.
Charlie dove forward and slammed himself into George's back, sending them sprawling. There were shouts as footsteps came running.
"What are you thinking? Are you insane?"
"Let me go!"
"Take away his wand. Now, Ginny!"
Hurried footsteps and it was gone.
Shouts and yells. Struggles and tears.
"You're strong enough for this, George. Why can't you see that!?"
"No! I'm not. Fred would have been strong enough but I'm not him!"
Desperate. "You don't have to be him, George. You can do this."
"I don't want to!"
And as she looked upon her George's features one night as his features twists in agony, as she runs her fingers softly through his hair, murmuring soothing words of comfort, she remembers. She remembers her children growing up, remembers her love for them.
…remembers her failure in keeping one alive.
And the same thought haunts her mind. Every day.
Maybe…maybe I should have let George go too.
Please review, if you would. :)