Warning: Heavy first chapter with sadness and grief etc. After this chapter, it won't be nearly as painful.
.x.x.x.
Smoke rises into the sky in a steady stream, starkly juxtaposing the inky black of night with its white and grey tendrils. There's a stench in the air unlike anything George has ever encountered, and he knows it to be the stench of death – what else could it be on a battlefield? Schooldays on lush green hills have long since been forgotten. The grounds of Hogwarts are now a place of war, no matter how much he and everyone else who fought alongside him despise it.
As he passes by body after body, he swallows down bile. The grass underfoot squelches, and George tries to stop himself dwelling on whether it's due to blood or simply mud.
The battle was over, for now at least, and it was time to tend to the dead, or so Voldemort himself had encouraged. But George wants to find his family and, perhaps most importantly, find Fred. How long had it been since he'd last seen him? Time had simultaneously dragged and blurred from the moment the Death Eaters had begun their assault. George couldn't have even guessed at the hour, though the black of night was beginning to filter into a deep blue; dawn's starting its approach and George welcomes it. The dark of night had lasted long enough.
"Some of these people – they're just kids," Lee murmurs. George sees his eyes flicking between the different bodies and feels guilty for trying so hard to avert his gaze, but a single glimpse of uniform had left him reeling. There were so many bodies, and so many were children, children who should've been at home. And he and Fred had agreed to bring Ginny here. She so easily could've been one of the children on the ground, dead long before her time.
George sucks in a breath and regrets it in an instant as death fills his lungs, leaving his eyes watering. "I know," he chokes out, and Lee falls silent, probably assuming he can barely talk due to how traumatic the whole situation is. They continue their walk amongst the dead – schoolyard turned graveyard, his mind helpfully supplies, and his heart twists in his chest.
As they draw nearer to the doors of the school, individuals wander out, looking hopelessly lost and starting desperate calls for friends, for family, for those they love. George hopes against hope that his family won't need to do the same, but they're a large family, and the school itself is huge.
The Great Hall is abuzz with at least a hundred whispering voices, people who are tending to the wounded and the dying. Lee peels away from him almost immediately, muttering something about finding friends and leaving George to pick his way through the hall, scanning for any sign of red hair. It doesn't take long. Although everyone is filthy, the Weasley hair could never be hidden completely. Relief flooding through him, George heads for his family. There's Mum, pacing across a tiny distance repeatedly, and Dad, worrying at his lip. The sight of Ginny, arms folded, expression grim, eases some of the tension out of George's shoulders. Bill and Fleur are hugging each other, Bill's lips at his wife's hair.
But there's no Ron. No Percy. No Fred, and that alone is enough to kick up the pace George's heart is beating at. He's almost tempted to turn around right then and leave the Great Hall to find him but – but no, it's too late. Mum's spotted him.
"George," she cries, and that causes the rest of his family to turn to look at him, too. In a matter of moments, they've swarmed him, Mum's hands at his face, rubbing away dirt, while Ginny clutches his arm and Bill and Dad grip a shoulder each. Fleur gives his hand a squeeze. After Mum's peppered his dirty face with kisses, she pulls away, giving him a chance to breathe, and the question that had been on his lips burst free of hers first. "Where's Fred?" she asks, glancing behind him, as if his twin, his shadow, would be hiding right there.
George swallows and his tongue darts out to moisten cracked lips. "That's what I was going to ask you," he says.
"Weren't you together? You're always together," Mum says, her voice verging on desperate. "Why aren't you together? You're supposed to look after each other," she insists, and with each word, her voice climbs an octave higher. George's heart gives a horrible twist again.
"We split up to cover more passages," he tells her, doing his best to push down his worry. "He went with Percy. He'll be fine. They'll have each other's backs."
That seems to give Mum some respite, but it doesn't put an end to her pacing, nor does it stop Dad worrying at his lip. Each minute, each second that passes feels like a lifetime and George is again overcome with the urge to go searching for his twin but doesn't. It might be because he's terrified of what he'll find.
It's Bill who sees him first and calls out, "Percy!"
Stupidly, George lets him think that means Fred must be back too and turns to look in the direction Bill is facing, but Percy is stood alone in the middle of the Great Hall, looking haunted as he begins a slow walk towards them all. It's too slow for George; in a few strides he's standing in front of his brother, and Percy stares at him wordlessly for only a second before his entire expression crumples.
No.
"Where's Fred?" he asks urgently, gripping Percy's shoulders. Percy ducks his head and sobs and George senses his entire family stiffening behind him because that's not the sort of response anybody wants to see to such a simple question. "Is he hurt? Where is he, Percy?" he demands, and when Percy doesn't answer, just continues to sob, he gives him a shake.
Bill steps in, gently prying George's fingers from Percy. "Give him a moment to breathe," he coaxes and so, George steps back, albeit keeping his eyes fixed on Percy. Dad tugs on the back of George's jacket, pulling him a little further away. The whole family is horribly silent as they wait for Bill to calm Percy enough to speak clearly.
A few deep breaths later, Bill dares to ask the question again. "Where's Fred, Perce?"
Percy hiccups and wipes at his eyes with the palm of his hand, nearly knocking his glasses off in the process. "We – we – need to go and get him," he eventually chokes out, and his expression collapses into one of pure devastation yet again. "I'm so sorry – Mum – George – I'm so sorry," he says.
No, no…
There's a sharp intake of breath beside him from Mum, and Ginny's hands fly to her mouth as, one by one, they fumble to piece together what Percy is getting at. "No," Mum moans, and she staggers forwards, then suddenly grabs Percy's lapels. "No, he's not – he's not," and she can't manage the word roaring through all of their minds. Dead, dead, dead. Fred's dead. Dead.
No.
"Where is he?" George whispers, and quiet though his voice is, Percy hears him and jerks his head vaguely in an undeterminable direction.
"Seventh floor," Percy mumbles.
The seventh floor. Fred hadn't even made it off the floor they'd split up on.
George's knees give way beneath him, and if not for Dad's quick reflexes, he would've hit the ground. On unsteady legs, George straightens up again and watches as Mum cries into Percy's chest, her knuckles white as she clings to his jacket. His own heart is shattered into a thousand pieces. He has no tears. Not yet. Maybe he isn't dead. Maybe Percy made a mistake in how overwhelming the whole battle was.
It feels as if everyone is watching them as they leave the Great Hall in a sombre parade of red hair and Fleur. Lee hurries to follow, grabbing George by the shoulder as he's about to climb the stairs. Whatever question he's going to ask dies on his lips, and he lets George's shoulder go as soon as he sees his expression, and, without a word, George turns back around and follows his family up the stairs.
All too soon, they're on the seventh floor, and it's cold, horribly cold, which is unsurprising, considering the gaping hole in the wall. "We were running along here," Percy murmurs, trailing his fingers along cold stone. "Ron and Harry and Hermione were with us. They were fine. Just – just Fred," he tells them, and he sucks in a breath as they approach a little nook in the wall.
And there he is.
Never in his life has Fred looked so pale, not even when he fell off his broom when they were ten and hit his head hard enough to knock him out and justifying an immediate trip to St Mungo's.
George's heart aches as he stares at Fred and whatever Mum says initially is too garbled to make out, then she dives forwards and paws at Fred's body, searching for any sign of life. Then the begging and the pleading starts, desperate cries George ends up drowning out because it hurts too much. Unable to look at his dead twin any longer, he leans back against the nearest stable wall and slides down it, burying his head in his knees.
"We should take him to the Great Hall," Bill says, a pillar of strength amongst a family falling apart. George raises his head and watches as he tries to pull Mum away from Fred's corpse. In the end, it takes Bill, Dad, and Percy together, along with words of comfort from Ginny and Fleur. George does nothing. Can do nothing, as broken as he is.
Distantly, he's aware of his family discussing how best to carry Fred. Using magic is disrespectful, they argue, and George wants to scoff, tell them Fred won't care how he's carried because he's dead. But all his words are gone, and his mouth can form nothing, so he rests his chin atop his knees instead and stares blankly ahead of him, the only thing he feels strong enough to do.
They transfigure a rock into a stretcher and gently lift Fred onto it. Then Bill removes his jacket and transfigures that into a simple white sheet, which he uses to obscure Fred's still-smiling face from view. Dad and Bill make carrying the stretcher between them look easy, but George knows it's probably the heaviest burden either of them will ever carry.
Suddenly, Percy and Ginny are standing either side of him, to help him to his feet. George wants to push them away but finds he doesn't have the strength. They walk slowly behind the rest of their family – Mum is clutching Fred's hand, and Fleur has an arm around her shoulders.
Their parade is now a funeral procession, and Fred is – Fred is –
The pitying eyes are on them again, George is sure, as they make their way across the Great Hall. Miraculously, the spot they abandoned to retrieve Fred is still empty, so they return to it and Dad and Bill carefully lower the stretcher to the ground. Mum immediately magics the sheet away so that she can take in every aspect of Fred's face, of his body, and then she flings herself across his chest and starts to wail, a horrible sound that attracts the attention of a few people in the Great Hall.
George lifts his eyes away from Mum and looks out across the room. He catches Professor McGonagall staring at them all, a frown between her brows. She steps closer – closer – and then falters once she's close enough to see who lies on the floor. One hand rises to cover her mouth, and she turns away, and George finds he has to do the same.
Eventually, he drags his feet around to Fred's head and drops to his knees. He finds himself staring down at his twin's face, and suddenly nothing else matters but his grief. People come and go, but George couldn't even attempt to name who, because all he can see and all he can hear, is Fred's dead body and the noises he's no longer able to make.
.x.x.x.
Once the battle is well and truly over and after they've rested, it's time for the wizarding world to start piecing itself back together, starting, apparently, with moving the dead. Newly appointed and reappointed Ministry officials are calm and reassuring before they transport the deceased, but they're all still reluctant to part with Fred's body.
They do eventually, if only because they have no idea what state the Burrow will be in, and the clean-up of Hogwarts needs to begin. The Ministry is the best place for Fred, they tell each other. The Ministry will make sure his body comes to no harm.
As expected, the Burrow has been ransacked. All the drawers have been emptied, cabinets have been knocked over, and it seems as though every chair in the house has been overturned just because it could be. They walk among the mess and scoff and sigh and tut as they regard the damage.
"It could've been a lot worse," Charlie finally says. George side-eyes him, wary. Whether he's talking about the house or the war, he can't be sure. What he is sure of is that his brain still hasn't decided whether to be angry with Charlie, for showing up at what's been dubbed the 'Battle of Hogwarts' as late as he did. Maybe things would've been a lot better, if Charlie had been there to have Percy's back so George could have Fred's.
"It's still home," Ginny adds decisively, and it's true. The house could've been burnt to the ground or blown to smithereens, but instead, it's here, sheltering them and undeniably the house they grew up in. The house they all grew up in.
Something breaks in George all over again. He draws his wand and uses it to flip the sofa back over so that he can sink into it with a heavy sigh. As soon as he lets his head rest in his hand, his family seem to take the hint that he has no intention to do anything more. They begin to flutter around him, fixing the house up with murmured spells and slight waves of their wands. What's the point in trying to fix me? George thinks humourlessly to himself, Fred's gone. There's no fixing that.
Mum comes downstairs crying a short while later, having spent the time undoing the damage in the bedrooms. "All of your rooms are sorted," she manages to say, her smile watery and the tears still on her cheeks. "George – I – do you want your old room?" she asks, swallowing hard.
So that's why she's been crying.
His mouth drops open, but he can't find an answer. There aren't enough rooms for him to go anywhere else and he can't stand the thought of somebody else staying in their – his – bedroom. Even worse would be to return to the flat.
"George can share with me," Percy says, saving him from replying. Relief floods through him, though the offer surprises him.
"Thanks," George murmurs.
Mum looks relieved too, and she gives Percy a grateful, but again watery, smile. She sniffs. "I'll go make us some soup," she says before hurrying out of their small living room, leaving the remaining Weasleys (and Harry and Hermione) to stand around like statues, unsure of what to do now that the house is clean.
"I will go and 'elp with the cooking," Fleur finally says, breaking the awkward silence that's filled the room. She pecks Bill's cheek and gives them all the biggest smile she can muster up, then trails after Mum. George swears he hears her sniffle on her way out.
If Fred was here, would it be nearly so uncomfortable? Probably not, George thinks. He swallows and leans back, rubbing briefly at his forehead before dropping his hand.
"We're going for a walk," Hermione announces a moment later, grabbing Harry by the arm. "To clear our heads," she clarifies, tugging him towards the door.
"And I – I'm going to make sure my shed was left alone," Dad says decisively, tentatively following the two of them. "You lot should, er, catch up." He gestures vaguely to them all, and then, quite suddenly, there's only six of them left in the room.
Only six.
The number weighs heavily on his mind. They make only six. Not seven. Never again would they be seven.
Catching all of them off-guard, Bill starts crying. He drops as heavily as George did onto the sofa and buries his face in his hands. He hasn't cried, much like George, though his reasoning is probably more to do with staying strong for his younger siblings, for Fleur, and for their parents.
"Oh, Bill," Ginny sighs, walking across the room and wrapping her arms around their brother from behind.
He snorts out a wet laugh and pats her arm but doesn't stop crying. "I'm supposed to be the one hugging all of you," he says. Ginny hugs him tighter. "I'm your big brother. It's my job to –" and then he breaks off and he's crying even harder, his entire body shaking with sobs.
"No," Ginny says firmly. "We're all meant to look after each other." She pauses, then adds, "As best we can."
The room falls into silence again, and George can't help but wonder if his siblings are thinking the same thing as him.
Our best wasn't good enough.
.x.x.x.
The Ministry is disturbingly quiet without paper notes flying around and workers piling into elevators. Already, Kingsley has had the statue which dominated the atrium removed, but it's left a large empty space, somehow making the place seem even emptier.
"We've transformed the Department of Magical Games and Sports into a temporary holding location for the deceased," the young witch, whose name George has already forgotten, explains as she leads them into the elevator. "It's quite cold that level," she warns them.
Despite their insistence on it being fine – that they were family – Fleur, Harry and Hermione had decided to stay at the Burrow, giving them time alone with Fred, so there's only eight of them crammed into the elevator.
Truthfully, George is terrified that Fred will have somehow changed a lot since he last saw him, only a handful of days ago. But in just a few short days, it's going to be his funeral, so he's painfully aware of the fact this could be his last chance to see Fred in this lifetime.
When the doors of the elevator open and the name of the level is rattled off, he takes a deep breath, steeling himself, before following his family and the woman out of the elevator. It's cold like the woman said it would be, and George finds himself shivering. Some people are in the corridor already, crying and hugging and comforting one another, but the Weasleys have no choice but to walk by them all.
"Fred's in here," the woman says softly. "Alongside four other young men. He's in the coffin at the far left. Take all the time you need." She holds open the door, and they file in, Mum clinging to Dad's hand like it's her only lifeline and Ginny holding onto Bill, acting as his. The door clicks shut behind them.
The room is much more homely than George was expecting. Late at night, trying to sleep, he'd pictured a cold room, as lifeless as Fred, but despite how cool it is and the fact five bodies are lying in it, the room is pleasant. Peaceful. The candles cast a warm light throughout it. and there are rugs on the floor, soft beneath their feet. Maybe that's why Mum is so much more composed as she approaches the coffin and peers down at Fred's face.
"My baby," she whispers, her fingers brushing Fred's cheeks. "My brave baby." It crushes George's heart.
They wait patiently, and each takes their turn to talk privately to Fred, but each time someone asks if he wants to talk to him yet, George stalls. He isn't ready to say goodbye. Not yet. Not yet.
Then Ginny says goodbye, and he's the only one left. He swallows as Ginny steps away.
"Can I be alone with him? Please?" he asks his family. All of them have identical expressions of sympathy and sorrow.
"Of course," Dad says, reaching out and grasping George's hand for a moment. He lets go and then opens the door and, one by one, they all file out until George is alone with his twin.
On legs which feel like jelly, George moves to Fred's side and stares down at his face. His smile seems to have gone but he still looks rather Fred-like, and it makes George's chest ache. He's wearing his favourite suit; Charlie had gone to the flat and brought a selection of outfits back, and George had known, instantly, to choose the suit, though Mum had made a good case for their work uniform. Selfishly, George hadn't wanted to be reminded of Fred's dead body whenever he wore his uniform.
For a brief few seconds, he presses his fingers to Fred's neck, hoping against hope that somehow, a mistake has been made. But the skin beneath the tips of his fingers feels almost frozen, and it's completely still. Fred's body is no more than a shell which once hosted a boisterous soul.
His eyes betray him, and a few tears leak out. "Why?" he whispers to no one, to nobody. No answer comes.
He can't think of anything to say in goodbye. How could anyone say goodbye to their other half?
Hurting, aching, George steps away from the coffin and towards the door. It opens just as he reaches it and a family far smaller than his own steps in. When he realises it's the Creeveys, his mouth drops open. He hadn't even realised…
Dennis Creevey looks at him, looking far older than he is, and doesn't smile.
George swallows and hurries out of the room.
.x.x.x.
The night before the funeral, it's raining hard. They're all sat at the dining table, chatting quietly amongst themselves and waiting for Percy to come home. He'd nominated himself to check on Fred, seeing as he worked at the Ministry anyhow, to make sure everything was alright before the funeral, the rest of them too drained to visit him again. It's not Fred anymore, not really, just a shell which once housed him.
"He should be home by now," Mum says anxiously, worrying at her lip. Her eyes flit to the clock yet again. When Dad had first retrieved it from Aunt Muriel's, Fred's hand had been spinning in circles, unable to settle on one location; Dad removed it shortly after bringing it home because Mum had cried at the sight of it.
Percy's is still on 'work', so Mum's worries don't ease.
"Maybe I should go check what's holding him up. Could be just paperwork," Bill suggests from the other end of the table. The hand on the clock whips around to 'travelling' before Mum can reply and she breathes a huge sigh of relief, getting up to no doubt heat up Percy's dinner.
The rain continues to pelt the window. "We should've turned the Floo back on," Mum says, grabbing a knife and fork and setting Percy's place. "He'll get soaked, poor dear." George barely suppresses an eye roll. Mum's been worrying ever since the battle about every little thing, and it's infuriating and endearing at the same time.
They all startle when there's a sudden, urgent banging on the door. "It's open!" Dad shouts, and Percy steps in quickly, soaked to the bone. His face is full of panic.
"What is it?"
"What's wrong?"
"Did something happen?"
The questions are asked all at once, leaving no time for an answer in between.
"It's Fred," Percy gasps out, his cheeks flushed red with exertion. "He's gone."