Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.
The Last Visitor
In a large cemetery somewhere near glorious London sits a grave. It's small, so small and insignificant-looking that if someone didn't have a purpose to be near it, they would walk right past it and never notice it was there. And why should they? The graves in the cemetery are too many to count.
When the grave was first planted there, it had many visitors. A large family, in fact, consisting of a weeping mother, a solum father, five mourning brothers, and a crying sister as well as a dark haired boy and a curly haired girl. Steadily, though, this family's visits became rarer and rarer. They even became so rare that these days they only arrive on the birthday and death day of their dearly departed relative. Life has dulled the importance of the visits.
Everyday, however, the brother who is the spitting image of the one who is dead makes the trip up to the small and insignificant grave. They are so similar, in fact, that if it wasn't for the hole in the side of his head where his ear should be, one would think the deceased man is walking among the living. (Fred and George, before the death, would have insisted on there being other physical differences, but since even their own mother couldn't tell them apart at times, these differences are meaningless.)
The living twin would always make his way up to the grave and would sit down in front of it, spending no less then three hours sharing tales and words with his brother. He knows deep down that his twin is able to hear him.
His favorite thing to talk about is their time together which has been a long one. George speaks of the pranks that they pulled and how amazing it was taking care of the joke shop with his twin. Towards the end of the reminiscing, a small smile appears on his face as he recalls what would occur after working hours. The two twins would turn the lights off at exactly half-past-eight and walk upstairs to their shared flat above the shop. George and Fred would then sit down and eat dinner, drinking in each others company with idle talk and large smiles. By this point, George is crying, the tears dripping down his face as he remembers how the two of them would return to their room after dinner and curl up together under the covers.
George would always grin broadly through his tears, pretending to find amusement in his words as he says, "The two of us never did like to sleep alone. Not even during our Hogwarts years."
George briefly speaks at times of where he has come since Fred's death, being married and all to Angelina Johnson with their two kids. He sickened of this life, however, because he has married a girl who had once fancied Fred. George resents this to no end. He has noticed since his twins death that many thought the two of them were interchangeable and it's disgusting. But overall, he mourns the loss of the only person who ever saw him as who he was because since Fred's death, life hasn't mattered.
Today is different, however, because today George admits that he named his son Fred to attempt to replace his lost twin. He has been searching and searching for someone to fill the void that has been left, but there is no one to fill the hole. That person is long in the ground and for that reason he left Angelina and the children about four months ago. They don't deserve a lie and George doesn't want how they offer him a family he refuses to stand.
Eventually, George tells Fred that he has sold the joke shop. He tells his long gone twin that he no longer has the same glee in seeing future trouble makers buy their silly products. Not if Fred isn't there to see them with him. The shop has lost it's appealing luster and has become a trap that encages George from eight in the morning to six in the afternoon. George finds no happiness in sulking at the counter, scaring away the customers with his sad expression and missing ear.
After half-heartedly sharing the news that has been buzzing around with the rest of the Weasley family, George finally leaves even though he is reluctant to. He returns to his new, smaller flat and walks inside, quickly settling in for the night. In the morning, George goes out and rents a muggle car. Climbing into the front seat, he starts it and begins to drive, not caring where it takes him. Fairly soon, he sees a bridge up ahead and floors the gas.
He hears a large crash and a sickening crack. Unbearable pain erupts all over his body and then he feels nothing, but that's fine with him.
The bed has became too large and cold as of late, after all.
THE END
A/N: WHY IS EVERYTHING I WRITE GETTING SHORTER THESE DAYS MY GOD. AND THIS IS CRAP. THIS IS A BARREL FULL OF CRAP THAT I SHAT OUT FOR GOD KNOWNS WHY. IT WAS GOING GREAT AT FIRST. THEN I STARTED TO EDIT AND THIS MONSTROSITY HAPPENED. I CAN'T CONTINUE "FIXING" IT ANY MORE BECAUSE IT WILL SOON BE EVEN MORE HORRIBLE IF I DO.
God knows why I didn't just trash this shit. I guess I felt guilty for hardly ever updating. Especially since school has started and who knowns when the next horrible thing happens.
Take this as twincest or just Fred and George being crazy super close. I honestly don't give a rat's crapped out, disease ridden pile of shit.
Please review and tell me just how much watching your pet cat/dog/hamster/mutated shoe piss for five hours straight would be more entertaining than reading this.