A/N. Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. That would be an epic Christmas present though :D
Anyway, I came up with this in the middle of Biology and typed it up, so here ya go!
it was yet another sleepless night, and Harry sat alone on the back step of the burrow, gazing up at the cloudless starry sky and holding a cup of hot chocolate. There were slightly muffled footsteps behind him. Someone was shuffling their feet, moving objects around trying not to make any noise. A few seconds later, the back door creaked open. Without looking around, Harry said softly,
"Hey George."
George came around and sat next to him on the step. There were bags under his eyes, similar to the ones Harry had for ages. It wasn't something you would expect to see when you looked at George. He sighed and took a sip of his coco. The war had aged everyone involved. It didn't care if you were ten, twenty or fifty; it screwed up your life anyway. The older man kept looking up, as if to say something, but changed his mind and returned to his drink. He was tugging at the space were his ear used to be- a nervous habit he had picked up.
Finally, he spoke up, "How do you do it?"
"Do what?"
"I dunno, just- keep going, move on."
He didn't need anymore explaining than that. Harry had lost more than anyone else to the wars against Voldemort, no matter how much he tried to ignore it.
George continued, "I mean, you never even knew your parents, and the Dursleys stuck you in a broom closet-" an angry look crossed his face. "-Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus."
"I suppose I realized that Dumbledore was right. Death is just the next great adventure. I was upset about everyone dying but we'll see them again sometime. Maybe not anytime soon, but eventually. They never really left anyway."
"You're sounding like Luna- what do you mean 'They never really leave us?'"
"You're never going to forget the people you love, even if they do die."
"Well you never forget the people you hate either."
"I guess not." He took a sip of his drink. "Anyway, None of them would want us moping around because their dead."
Especially Fred. It wasn't spoken, but they both knew it. Fred was probably rolling in his grave thinking about George's attitude towards his death. He would want his twin to be celebrating his life- an amazing twenty years- instead of mourning his loss.
They sat in silence for several moments before George spoke again.
"What's it like to die?"
Harry looked at him with a bit of concern, "You're not going to die, George."
"I know, I just wanted to know if it was painless for-" He coughed and took a sip of his drink.
"Yeah. It's weird, I barely even noticed it. Its like one moment you're alive and the next you're... not. I don't know how else to explain it. Hurt like hell when I woke up though."
"And then you were at Kings Cross with Dumbledore."
"Yeah. Even weirder, I didn't have my glasses, and I could see fine. I didn't have any scars either."
Their hot chocolates had stopped steaming. George had barely touched his, and instead stared at the brown liquid, lightly swirling the cup. Harry finished his off and held the still warm cup between his hands.
"You'll see him again, George. He'll meet you there, I'm sure of it."
