Just a quick snippet with George after Fred is lost... Enjoy it, but not too much. This is supposed to be sad, remember?
And you are just as aware as I am that I do not own these characters.
George sat on the edge of his bed, turning over a small box in his hands. His eyes were glazed over and unblinking as they stared in the direction of the empty bed opposite him. The room was cast in a gloomy shadow; the curtains had been closed for days. What little light that managed to break through the sides of the window, which the roughly patched up curtain could not quite cover, illuminated the room just enough for George to see just how empty it was.
He blinked a few times to stop his eyes from burning, then cast them downward to focus on the carpet. Maroon. Well, it was more of a brown. The softness and true color had been lost years ago. But at one point, it had been maroon. George let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, listening to the sobs of his mother downstairs. It broke his heart.
What caused this to happen to him; to his family? They had always been good people, hard-working and well-natured. Always meant to do the best for others, to be all they can be. So, why were they forced to deal with this much pain? What had they done to deserve this?
George didn't have an answer to any of these questions, but they never left his mind. He just could not understand what the reasoning behind this accident was. Was it an accident, though? Fate? A mistake, perhaps?
Knock, knock, knock. George did not react. The door opened despite his lack of permission and Molly Weasley squeezed through the doorway, not daring to open the door more than halfway. She entered, with no indication of having seen George, and made her way to the opposite end of the room, wiping her cheeks in the process, undoubtedly trying to hide the fact that she had been crying. She touched a few items to straighten them: a broken bludger, a family photo, a collectible figurine of some quidditch player, whose legs were swinging as he sat on the edge of the shelf, and who did not appreciate being brought to his feet by a hand the size of him. She swept over to the empty bed, straightening the corner of the blanket. She reattached the corner of a poster that had begun to sag. She turned to leave.
"Oh, George, dear," she began as she was halfway through the door, turning back but looking at the opposite wall. "I need to change your bandage before dinner. Come downstairs." Molly nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.
George squeezed his eyes shut. It was the third time she had come into his room to fix things. Today.
Despite his efforts to keep them back, tears streamed down his cheeks silently. His family was going insane. He was going insane. His throat tightened as he let out a single sob, then grabbed a nearby blanket and wiped his eyes on it angrily. He threw it on the floor and rose to his feet, tossing the box on his bed on his way out the door.
Out of the box fell a firecracker, a thick-banded ring, a paper with the potential ingredients to a new "candy", a chocolate frog card, and a photograph.
In the photograph, the twins had their arms around each others shoulders and were laughing heartily.
In The Burrow, George's heart was shattered.
So? Let me know what you thought. I'd really like to perfect this story. I know it's short, and I would really light to lengthen it a bit but still keep it simple. Please review and tell me your thoughts! Thanks!
Amy