Disclamer: As much as I would like to own them, all characters belong to JK Rowling
This is my first chapter of my first ever fanfic - and if nobody likes it, I will go and hide somewhere...
Please review it :) (if you don't I may not add more chapters)
I don't mind having constructive feedback/ mild criticism, but please don't have a go at me if you think it's terrible, this is only my first fanfic, and i'm a young writer :)
This chapter is dedicated to Elven Heart993, as her wonderful fanfic Double or Nothing inspired me to write this
And i'm sorry if I have 'stolen' ideas from your story, but I have tried extremely hard to keep my ideas original, even if ideas are taken from other fanfics.
Sorry for the essay...
George had started to hate mirrors. It seemed strange in a way, his such loathing for an inanimate object, but every time he saw one was enough to bring his fist into clenches and his tired face into a look of uttermost hate, but with a shadow of sadness. The Weasleys, after Fred's death, would look up every time they saw George, just hoping, longing for both twins. George was fed up of the look of disappointment on their faces whenever they realised it was him, George. Only George. But George had the same reaction; every time he looked at a mirror, he would turn back, convinced the mirror had winked as George hadn't, or given him a small smile. But whenever he turned back to look, his heart leaping a little, he would only see the pale reflection of one-eared, sleep deprived George Weasley. He hated mirrors. All except for one.
It was the morning after the battle of Hogwarts. Voldemort was dead, death eaters were dead or had fled and Harry had saved the day, again. George knew he ought to be happy, to at least put on a brave face and try and celebrate with everyone else, but his body and mind seemed to have gone into shock. Fred was gone. Gone. Forever. George was never going to taste his terrible cooking again, or tease Percy with him, or hear his laugh. Never.
All the memories of Fred seemed to be pouring back into George, just to make things worse. Practising Quidditch with Fred at the Burrow; running around Hogwarts with Fred at three in the morning, avoiding Filch after Fred's 'plan' went slightly haywire; accidentally blowing up their bedroom when experimenting for skiving snackboxes; trying to hide their terrible O.W.L results from their mother.
George didn't have any memories without Fred in, and staring at his twins pale face, with a slight Fred-ish grin on it was torture, yet George could not seem to tear his eyes away.
He was walking into the Great hall, in search for something to stem the flow of blood from his ear. Stupid ear, thought George. It always seemed to be bleeding nowadays, but then again, maybe it was a warning, a danger sign. He stepped over bodies, shaking slightly; George had known some of these people, and they had died, innocently, for good. He could see his family, they seemed to be standing round something. Someone. George's heart was racing now. Not Ginny, he prayed. Or Percy, so soon after he had apologised. He moved closer, his entire body sinking as he saw a mop of ginger hair on the cold stone floor. It had to be a Weasley. But before he could get there, George was almost flattened by Ginny. In tears, she threw her arms around George. The faces of his family looked up at him, but he hadn't really registered who was there and who wasn't. They were crying, and looking at George, their expressions starting to scare him.
'Fred, where's Fred?' George asked, a huge lump forming in his throat.
'I'm sorry, George. I'm so sorry,' Charlie said, tears streaming down his face and sounding as though he had a bad head cold. Charlie was crying. This wasn't right. He'd seen his mother and Ginny cry plenty of times before, about stupid little things. He'd seen Percy cry, and Bill, Ron and his father had had their fair share of tears too. But Charlie had never cried because he, like Fred, was practically invincible. George was sure he was the only Weasley to have seen Fred
cry, and that had only happened about once in George's memory. But where was Fred?
He stepped closer to the body, the Weasleys moving out of his way.
George's heart seemed to stop.
It couldn't be. Fred was lying there, pale, a trickle of blood of his forehead. But Fred was, Fred was Fred. He couldn't die. He wouldn't die. Not without George. This had to be a trick, some sort of sick wind up, but Fred would never do such a thing.
'I'm so sorry George,' Bill said, putting a hand on George's shaking shoulder as he collapsed onto his knees next to his twin...
George had spent the rest of that terrible hour staring at Fred's body, praying for some sign of movement, that Fred was just injured, or had been knocked out, but after a while, people came over to move his body. George tried to yell at them, to scream at them to leave him alone, but no sound could come out of his mouth, he was just sitting there in complete shock. After that, George had vowed to his twin to kill whoever had caused his death, and to kill every other last death eater too. Perhaps his anger had spurred him on, George had to kill this person, and neither cared whether he himself lived or died. He fought well, and took down Yaxley with the help of Lee Jordan. But now this battle was over, and George had nothing to focus on except the death of his twin.