Author's Note: This is a brain child of mine that had to be born. Normally I don't like tragedy, but I suppose every rule must have some exception. Anyhow, I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not and never will be mine.
There were days he could pretend that everything was alright; when he could go into public and smile and wave for the adoring crowds. Some days he could block it all out; he could stop himself from remembering. And other days he locked himself in his bathroom and cried, made sick by the ghosts of the past. But no one knew of those days; no one wanted to see past the reassuring smile and trademark flaming hair to the broken man that sobbed in the bathtub and beat his hands bloody against tiles. They didn't want to look at a hero and see a reflection of their own shattered selves.
Because really, the whole world was as broken as the man stretched out on the cold slate floor. No one knew how to keep on living - how to pick up the pieces - with the ones who had been paramount to normalcy gone. Every smile was hesitant, every laugh hollow, every look haunted. The children that had once ran freely amongst the gaudy shoppes were now kept close to parents' sides, faces older than their bodies. There was nowhere to go to escape the sense of eternal dusk that pervaded the once sunset-hued universe. Even the sun seemed to have dimmed; the clouds had become much darker without the man's brother to reveal their silver linings.
A/N: I realise that this is a bit different from what I normally write, but I still think it's alright :) As for who the narrator is, well, I couldn't decide whether to make it George or Ron so I'll let you make the choice. Any and all reviews are much appreciated!
