A Missing Gear
Chapter 1: A Soggy Birthday
George opened his eyes widely, sweating. It's been a year. It's been a whole entire cruddy year.
"Don't think about it! Smile, laugh, that was what you were always supposed to do anyway." He faked a smile in the mirror and rubbed his hair messily. He took a deep breath in and let it out like a helium balloon. He glanced at the calendar, hanging solemnly from a nail stuck in the wall. It was still on the January page and he didn't seem to care or bother to turn it three pages. It was too painful to do so. He glanced at the twin-sized bed, left the same way it was 11 months ago. The bed wasn't made; the sheets were all fumbled and the pillow was on the floor.
Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes went on a hiatus for roughly five or six months after that wretched day in May and with George all on his own he was trying hard to get back on his feet. The joke shop was a good way to keep his mind of things after what had happened. Looking in the mirror was painful and he tried not to do it. George took a shower and got dressed in one of his brother's suits. He hadn't worn a nice suit since Bill's wedding. He summoned his brief case from the mess he had in the closet. Without his family, especially Mrs. Weasley, he was a mess. He stayed at the Burrow a couple months until the shop went out of hiatus.
He took his wand from his nightstand, shoved it in his pocket and fled out of his room. He skipped breakfast; he was too tired to be eating anything. Either way, months of binge eating kept him stuffed full. He rushed down stairs, tapping each step with force making sounds of thunder. He finally crashed to the end of the winding staircase. He collected himself and then quickly ran out the door. He pushed through merchants and casual shoppers as he flew through crowds during rush hour. Lucky enough for him, the shop was just a turn away.
"Dang it! 8:35! Oh Patricia is going to kill me!" He shuffled for his keys, digging in the organized mess that was called his pockets. "Don't tell me I left them in the other suit." Before he could pull out his wand a young witch cracked open the door banging him in the head.
He let out a groan. "Damn it!" He shouted rubbing his temple.
"That's what happens to those who come late," a young witch said. She stood up tall, but was very short. She had a mane of thin black hair and murky green-brown eyes. She looked somewhat like a raven. Funnily enough, she was in Ravenclaw when she was in Hogwarts. She was pretty in an unconventional way, but her unpleasant, bitter demeanor made up for that. "Happy Birthday Mr. Weasley! I hope you feel comforted by the fact that I had to open and set up for you."
"Patricia, I know. I've been having a rough week, my- oh just never mind!" He started to remember what he told himself this morning. Be happy, so no one feels bad for you. Be happy, so everyone is all right.
"I'm sorry George. I know it's been a rough time for you. I shouldn't be as myself with you." She said patting his back as they trotted their way to the front counter. The whole room had the stench like dust and Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. Boxes unevenly lined the tall walls and shelves, toppling over in shelves that were too clustered. The whole place needed to have a shower, and then be wrung out and then to be showered again with extra force.
A group of 7th years came sneaking in, snickering about something unheard.
"Hey, Pat. I want to show you something." He told the woman trying is hardest to smirk. He dashed from the counter where Pat was filing papers, tearing through the stock reordering everything. She wiped her deep navy slacks.
"Yes?" She looked up from her thin-framed glasses. He looked at her mischievously; smirking towards his left side, ginger hair glinting in the sun peaking from the windows.
"Oh no Mr. Weasley. I can't. I do not approve."
"Come on! It would be fun." He suggested.
"Fun is cleaning this place up." She replied in a serious tone. He shrugged his shoulders and put the box down.
"What would I do without you? No seriously always keeping me level headed and on track. You deserve a raise. How many galleons?" He asked trotting around the room.
Pat rolled her eyes and shuffled to the shelves, to save a box of the newly enhanced Extendable Ears from falling. It was conveniently placed by a tower of Skiving Snacks that was meliorated with a better taste. No new products were created. The best ideas always went to Fred.
Pat sat down while George journeyed his way up to the office in which he experiments. It's not unusual to see puffs of smoke or loud noises made.
The group of teens ambushed Pat as they asked that price of each item, only to leave without purchasing anything. She shrieked with pain.
"Oh my gosh, teenagers!"
A loud thuds came from outside. The sound was not anymore displeasing than before for Pat.
"Come in! You don't have to knock to get into stores!" Pat yelled. A short, plump, women with ginger hair started looking into the window. She quickly opened the door with a smile, her husband trailing behind her.
"You know dear, you don't always have to be so rude sometimes. I think that's why business is slow." She said grinning at Pat. "Now where is my Georgie?"
George heard the cheerfulness in his mother's voice. It was jubilant and joyful, so it was so obvious how hard she tried to keep positive. It obviously failed. There was a sudden rivalry between George and Molly to be the optimistic one that you could almost see the death rays in their eyes. After anyone's death, if all the family pretends to be happy there won't be one liar in the room, it would be full of them. There was no way they could vent, and in it's self they would end up more depressed than before. Just imagine a kid seeing the entire family smile after his brother's death. That kid would be just confused and would wonder if they ever cared, or cared about the pain.
Honestly, everyone here is worse than they seem.
George flattened down his hair and clothes, avoided glancing at his reflection in the mirror and put on a big grin. I hope this is convincing. He slid from his quaint office on to the red platform of the staircase dramatically, trying to spark his old self again. Rather, he was trying to spark Fred's self again.
His mother looked above at him surprisingly. Even she knew something was wrong, something was missing.
"Hello Mum! How are you?" He flew down the stairs quickly to extend his hand out to his mother. Owning a business has made Weasley learn some business manners.
"Oh look at you! My little business man you!" Molly pulled George into a hug, which he mimicked.
"Well, we're all going to the Three Broomsticks after you finish work and we'll then go back to the Burrow. Everyone's coming! Harry too! Ginny can't make it because of the NEWTS unfortunately. Luckily the tree took there's earlier. Ron passed! Can't you believe that? Even Charlie, all the way from Romania for your birthday!" George knew that wasn't true. He probably came to visit Fred. Charlie rarely leaves work now, considering a drop in dragon tamers. It kind of bummed him out that Charlie actually didn't come for him. It just reminded him of the fact Fred is in the ground right now, not standing by his side. That's what he tried to imagine before. He told himself that he was cooking up unfinished business at Hogwarts. He also liked to pretend that Fred was with him.
It just wasn't the same on his birthday. They never were apart on April Fool's, that was their biggest day. Everyone used to be cautious when they approached them and they felt like Kings.
"Oh you guys don't have to do all of that for me. I am fine. -I want to be by myself this time." He let that last part slip out too fast.
"George? Why not, it'll be fun." Molly did not let go of that smile. Pat sighed as she rang in a couple of costumers that came in.
"Oh alright. I'll do it. I think I have a few tricks up my sleeves if you know what I mean."
"Okay then! I better leave you here. I have to go meet Charlie. He wants to buy a few things from Honeydukes and Madam Malkins. He misses the Diagon Alley stores. He says they don't make them the same in Romania.
The day dragged on with a lot of sales due to the day. It's been a spike since the last few months. It was also kind of a birthday present.
….
After work George decided to go to the cemetery. It annoyed him that he had to go there. It angered them that it was his family member. It infuriated him that it was his twin brother. Why did he have to remind himself? Why can't he forget this?
"I don't want to remember! Why do I remember? I just want to forget." He started tearing up as he threw floo powder on the ground igniting his surroundings
"St. Luke's Cemetery!" He mumbled through tears. He was by himself. He didn't have to worry about making them happy. Or hopeful. Or laughing. He just wanted to be with Fred.
He ventured to a solemn, dingy looking gate. It was black and high and covered with vines and weeds. It was all they could afford. Fred paced himself, passing lines of tombstones, unvisited.
"I don't want people to forget me when I'm dead." As he heard the sound from his mouth he realized that it was selfish. He didn't want people to feel like he did with Fred. He guessed it would be better to be forgotten.
It was deep in the cemetery that they chosen to bury him. There were broken vases from surrounding graves no one bothered to clean. Fred's tombstone stood shorter than the others. It was short and stocky like his build. On it, it read:
FRED WEASLEY
BELOVED SON AND BROTHER
1978-1998
It said so little about him that it annoyed George. He could use dozens of packs parchment paper to write about how amazing Fred's short life was and how it changed his. George looked down at a shard of glass lying on the ground. He picked it up and gazed at it. On lookers would've thought he was vain and that was how he looked at mirrors.
"Hello Freddie!" He started imaging his responses.
"Hello Georgie. Perfect weather to storm Diagon Alley." Fred "spoke".
"Fireworks?" George grinned.
"Of course. We'll give them a show." Fred smirked.
"Risking Azkaban? I could take that." It went on for that for a while. Fred would propose a topic and George would respond. He would've spent the night there if a snowy owl didn't swoop in.
"Sorry I have to take this. Mum must be nuts about the time!"
"George Weasley. How dare you miss your own dinner. Gathering the family like this. Some people had to miss work. Charlie came all the way here for you to linger with your friends. " Molly started crying. "If your brother was-" She was cut off.
George stopped dead.
"I'm an idiot. I'm an idiot. " He broke down sobbing, holding the shard to his chest struggling, for air. He would have never thought that his 21st birthday would ever be something like this.