I wrote this like a year ago, actually, but had never published it here.
Well, to start a few warnings.
First, this is a Fred/George songfic, it has slash/twincest. So if you had anything against it please don't read it. If you don't like it that much, you could give it a try :).
Second warning. This has sex implied. So I wouldn't recomend it for ages lower than 16. There's nothing graphic but nevertheless...
Third, take a tissue and enjoy! :)
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The Prankster
.
.
.
The clamor of the fight extended everywhere. In each direction, in each angle the fight could be felt. George fought at the best of his skill. However, he tried not to truly think in the gravity of the situation. Each time he dodge a ray of green light, he did it as if it was a Tarantagrella. Each course he drew at a Death Eater it was like another bludger in some quidditch game. His mind was entertained with the parallelism, but there was always that part that new the seriousness of the situation. The one part that didn't stop thinking that this battle was the most important in which he ever was. That same part that knew that a mistake could mean death, which focused on the other end of the bond with his twin. Checking over and over again that everything was all right.
A Desmaius this way and everything was fine. Avoid that red ray and everything was fine. A Reducto over there and everything was still fine.
Time stopped, the heart contracted in a fist, the air went away from his lungs and from the other side of the bond nobody answered.
Loneliness oppressed him like never before in his life.
And everything was bad.
.
.
Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry
You don't know how lovely you are
.
.
And he ran, he ran as the best. The courses from one and other band flew by next to him, but nothing of it mattered to him anymore. The battle was stopping, Voldemort's voice resounded, saying word that didn't reach George's mind. Because nothing of it was of any matter, the only thing that worried him was to know that Fred was alright. The silence that he received on the other side of the bond scared him as nothing had done so before in his life.
When was that stupid moment when he walked away from Fred? If they were made for each other, they must be together, fight back to back. That way they were invincible, none could against them. But they had gone different ways and now the bond that didn't work was scaring him.
Fred's figure appeared in his mind, he smiled him in a way he had never done so before, although he had his usual smirk there was a new air of peace. Despite the tenderness that the image gave away, a new wave of terror hit George.
.
.
I had to find you
Tell you I need you
Tell you I've set you apart
.
.
Then he arrive at the Great Hall, he searched a familiar face that could indicate where his brother was, or better yet, his twin's face. Then he saw Percy.
The looks found each other.
Red eyes from crying reflected a disturbed soul that asked him forgiveness.
It was like a stone hit hard George in his head.
No, for God's sake, no.
Next to his elder brother were his parents, crying bended over a figure on the floor.
No, no, no.
He approached with fear, without caring about the sorrowed looks that gave him those who saw him pass. Then, he could distinguish who was lying on the floor. The face, although pale, identical to his. That body that he knew until the last freckle, lifeless.
No, no, no, no.
George's soul was tore, screamed, was contorted and died once and again.
No, no, no. It couldn't be true. Not Fred. Not him. He couldn't leave leaving him alone. No, no, no.
However, despite the hardiness of the overwhelming reality, he had known. He had known since nobody answered from the other side of the bond. Since the time had stopped, since nothing felt well, since the loneliness appeared for the first time, since his own heart has stopped beating.
That's why he had run, because he had to have him in his arms once more. Tell him how much he needed him, how important he was, how much he meant to him. To tell him:
"Please, don't leave me, Fred."
.
.
Tell me your secrets
And ask me your questions
Oh, let's go back to the start
.
.
There were so many things that still needed to be said. So many words that had remained unsaid. Words that were of common understanding in a look. Words which need to be said out load had never appeared before. But now, at the end, they were needed. Those feelings that had never been expressed in more than moans, those questions about the morality of what they were doing between the sheets in their bedroom at night. The doubts of what they'd said if they found them. The right and well that it felt, the fear of the disapproval of their family and friends.
What would happen it this end shall come.
If he had only had a Time-Turner to go back to those happy times in which the war had not yet impacted in the deepest. In which the most important thing was the next joke. When the most terrifying thing was their mother's scream if she caught them in one of their mischief. When the only thing that mattered was the time spent together. When evil and good didn't go any further than when they were going out of line with a prank. When they still didn't know the way society disapproved what they did at nights. When Voldemort wasn't anything more than a shadow of the past. When Harry was no more than the best friend of his younger brother. When everything hadn't derailed yet. When everything was fine and the future was promising.
.
.
Running in circles
Coming up tails
Heads on the science apart
.
.
And now that he thought about it, they had lost so much time. Too many moments wasted for worrying about a twisted society that was incapable of accepting their love. That dared to call what they did wrong, terrible and unnatural. But how could be wrong their way of showing their love if they were soul mates? Two parts of a same person split in different bodies. How could it be wrong to try to reunite, to feel complete?
Too much time wasted trying to understand a society that had to be wrong. Too much time trying to put words to explain that that for them was as natural as breathing. Or did someone apart from the scientists tried to explain why their lungs needed oxygen?
So many caresses gone into nothing for fear of disapproving looks. Not being able to walk holding hands trough the halls. Nights wasted because both were too tied up in their fears. Maybe one day what they were was accepted easily, but back then it wasn't and now was too late.
.
.
Nobody said it was easy
It's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
.
.
It was difficult to fake that they were less than what they really were. Each time they had to suppress an urge, the desire to caress a cheek, the passion or just wanting to put their lips together. But more than difficult it was shameful. Fred hid it behind anger, a furious look, that was it. Yet, George could see beyond that, he knew perfectly the pain behind those eyes. He, instead, hid it, didn't do anything, but when his look found his brother's, it reflected sadness. Then, Fred calmed down and his face softened and George's tears came back to their sleeping place.
Mr. Weasley had talked to them about what happened when growing up, the hormonal changes, the complications about falling in love with a girl. But he had never said how complicated it was to fall in love with a man, and even less if that man was your brother, your twin. He hadn't tell them of the intoxicate sensation that was having the other in their arms, nor about the feeling of dying and reborn again with each moan. Nor the burden of the secret.
.
.
Oh take me back to the start
.
.
Now he wanted to go back to that time when they had had their own shop. When they had been lord and master. That place they had had for themselves for more than a year. Where they didn't had to low their voices nor repress the screams of pleasure. Those moments where they had been so happy. The issues and problems of the society forgotten. The world was theirs and a new future laid at their feet. Hopes laid on each other.
.
.
I was just guessing
At numbers and figures
Pulling the puzzles apart
.
.
Life had become in just thinking new pranks, investigate market values. Now it was routine, although fun, routine nevertheless. And maybe that's why he hadn't known to appreciate it as much as he should. And fully taste that borrowed time. War didn't enter to their shop more than in the worried faces of the clients that came, but it was gone as soon as their eyes posed on the endless jokes.
But yet, the reports of the Order of the Phoenix came. The news troubled them and threatened to destroy that burble of happiness. They fear for their parents, for their elder brothers –maybe not that much about Percy-, for Harry and for everyone they loved. But not for them. They took themselves for granted. Maybe if George had feared a little more for his twin, he had known better to appreciate him. Maybe he hadn't worried about that prank that wasn't working, maybe he hadn't worried about the look of despise that Verity gave them when she found them kissing.
.
.
Questions of science
Science and progress
Do not speak as loud as my heart
.
.
It was problems of a backward society. Problems of a war between good and evil that was greater than them. Problems that vanished in the nights when they made love in the privacy of their department. Because in those moments nothing of that mattered, it was only them both. George with his brother, his twin, his best friend, his soul mate.
And now society was relegated and war had exploded into his maximum point. George wanted to scream. Scream to everyone that could hear him what he felt, scream why his brother instead of him. Scream for what it was and what had been. Scream for the meaning of that being that was lying lifeless within his arm really had. Although none of it mattered anymore, because it was in the past and what it was could never be again.
.
.
Oh tell me you love me
Come back and haunt me
Oh and I rush to the start
.
.
"Fred, Fred," begged George, "Come to get me."
"Please," sobbed the lonely twin, "Let me look at you one more time and tell you how much I love you. Please, come and tell me that you love me. Please."
But the beg was lost in a silence cry. The agony of losing his other half couldn't be expressed with words. The only thing that went away trough his lips was a quiet whine and a continuous crying that wouldn't stop.
He wanted to see Fred once more. He didn't want to say goodbye to that face so identical to his. The idea that he would never see again that smile, o see the sparkle on those eyes after a well done prank or the way that he sighed after a well placed caress. He didn't matter how, whether as ghost or how, he wanted to see him. However, he knew inside him that it wasn't possible. That the only way he had to see him would be in the memories in his mind or in those photographs that didn't catch more than a glimpse of the true essence of his brother.
And when the pain of the loss he didn't end to accept threatened to tear him apart in a million pieces, he wished with all his strength to had been able to be there at that moment. Whether to see those last moments of life in those beautiful eyes or to be there to prevent it. Or to go back to the beginning of the war and avoid it all. To go back in time and avoid the very same birth of Voldemort if it was possible.
While the sobs continued shaking his body, George was left pondering in all the different possibilities.
.
.
Running in circles
Chasing our tails
Coming back as we are
.
.
However, the true was that it didn't matter how much things could be different. They were what they were and they would remain that way. Despite the many possible paths that the past could have taken, it happened that way and Fred had died. And it will continue that way. Between the tears, that continued falling tracing the only clean line in all the dirt, George started to realize all that it meant. Fred would never laugh again of one of his jokes, there would be no more pranks invented together, no more stolen kisses when none would see, no more mocking their brothers, no more being together.
In spite of how much he thought about it or how many alternative versions he tried to find, the reality was simple. Fred had died and he, George was alive. Alive to live alone. If what waited him next could be called living.
.
.
Nobody said it was easy
Oh, it's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be so hard
.
.
They knew what they were facing when the war started. They were aware of the risk of dying, as much as the weight of their actions and the risk of making a mistake and the consequences it could bring to others. But it never, never went trough their minds the possibility of losing his twin. Definitely, it never went trough George's. Because it was impossible, it just couldn't happen. The idea was more than inconceivable. If they had born to be together, they were made for each other. But it had happened, for impossible it may seem.
That that shouldn't happen, occurred and George was left unmade, half the person he used to be. The smile of days gone by never appeared again. His family didn't knew how to approach him, divided between they didn't know what to say to him and that it reminded them so clearly of what he had lost. To George nothing had sense anymore, the sun that came out every morning was a mock as the star at night. Some would say he was in shock, but it wasn't true. No, the twin had long go accepted the reality, the fact that he couldn't live with it was something entirely different. He knew it was normal to move on, to try to be happy but he couldn't. He re-opened the shop, he went out with girls, he got married, had children. But nothing of it was enough, something was missing and that something was his brother. If he even wasn't able to produce a Patronus. Because he wasn't happy.
Because his life had stopped at the very right moment in which Fred's eyes remained empty. Because he had died with his twin.
.
.
I'm going back to the start
.
.
.
.
.
Well, this fic is based on George mourning, and while he mourns he goes over his entire relationship. And I believed that there would be only two things that would threaten their happiness and troubled them: their secret relationship and the war. The problems with the jokes and the no enjoying that much wouldn't mean so much. But in loss the little things become bigger so George would think of it bigger.
I tried to take from the moment that Fred dies to George life after that. And then, George remembering their entire relationship from the beginning to the end.
I hope you all liked it… :)
.
Firenze