So, my first non-next gen fic. It popped into my head when I was at a restaurant. Here goes!
It was seven p.m. at the Burrow. Inside the house, there was a family drowning themselves in tears. George Weasley stood outside the Burrow, like he and Fred had so many times, to plan stuff.
Except this time, Fred wasn't there. That was the reason the Weasleys were so devastated.
That was right. Just a week ago, his twin brother, his other half, had been severed from him, blasted away, like his ear. Killed.
It pained him to say that. Fred had been killed. And it wasn't an accident. It made George boil, that people who would intentionally commit murder existed. It wasn't a dream. It was real.
He cracked open a second shot of firewhisky. He wasn't drunk yet, but he planned to get drunk. To let himself forget that there wasn't a Fred-and-George any more. Just George.
"I wouldn't drink that, if I were you." came a floaty, ethereal voice that he couldn't quite place.
Oh wait! It was Luna (Loony) Lovegood, who was staying with the Weasleys, while her father tried to put the house and business back together after the war.
"Whoa." George dropped the firewhiskey on the patio. Cursing, he went to get a cloth.
"Don't worry, I'll get it." Luna half-wandered and half-danced back to the burrow.
"Sorry." Luna said as she wiped up the spill. "I scared you. Are you OK? Mrs Weasley said you should come inside, and that I should fetch you. Also, be careful of Nargles. They attack when you are sad, because you are vulnerable."
George liked the way she talked to him. Everyone else tread carefully, as if he was a very fierce dog that could attack at any moment. He wasn't suffering major anger, just massive, massive grief, too great to describe.
"I'm sorry. I should comfort you, shouldn't I?"
"It's fine, Luna."
"I thought it was Loony."
"No. Not anymore. Y'know, Luna, people should stop calling you Loony. I mean, you've got your head in the clouds, but you always get straight to the point. Like you can really talk to people. This is the first proper conversation I've had, since-since-"
George broke down again, silent tears running down his face. He sat down on the patio, looking
"It will be fine."
"But it won't be fine! IT WON"T EVER BE FINE! HE'S DEAD AND YOU CAN'T CHANGE THAT!" George realised what he'd said, and he hastily tried to fix it. "I'm sorry, Luna. I don't know what happened."
"Oh, don't worry. Grief does that to you. When my mum died, sometimes I'd scream and hate the world and sometimes I would try and be grateful for what I had. My dad was the same. He would go from making a big fuss of me one day, to being distant and angry the next."
"But how can I ever recover? He was my twin. We started life together. I wanted to go through life with him. We had so much."
"I honestly don't know what you would do. But I can tell you one thing. You and Fred once had what you had. Now it belongs solely to you, and you can make the best of it."