Snuff

Summary: Harry is at Fred Weasley's funeral and is contemplating their relationship. Based on the song Snuff by Slipknot. I recommend listening to it while reading this story.

Warnings: Slash, non-graphic, Attempted Self Harm

Authors Note: This is my first published fanfic. I have never actually finished one. I was listening to the song snuff, and boom, inspiration. I pissed off my mom to write it. Be happy. :)

They never knew. Only George, Fred, and were aware of our relationship. It was better that way. Voldemort couldn't target what he didn't know existed. Now I'm regretting that decision. Everyone is wondering why his death hit me so hard. We were lovers. He was my other half. And now he's gone. The final battle came and left. But Fred will never open his eyes again. He'll never be able to see the beauty of the world he just fought and died for. And I'm to blame. If I had just been a second faster, he'd still be alive. George and I are all that's left from the forbidden romance days, and I can't help but silently weep for what will never be. I cling to George and he clings to me, both attempting to cage in the remaining shards of our sanity that way.

For the past week since the final battle, we haven't said a word. Haven't eaten. I know I'm worrying Mrs. Weasley, but I can't help it. The world seems gray and dull now without Fred around. I look at George and we take comfort in each others silent pain. We had been inseparable since...That Night. Since we both lost the dearest person to us. Only we knew what the other was going through. They didn't understand.

The air was thick with grief and despair. I had defeated Voldemort, but at what price. I lost my only love. He's gone and he won't come back. I stifle the sobs and try not to draw attention. The man at the podium is speaking about how Fred wouldn't want us to mourn. What the fuck does he know? He never met Fred. I start to hyperventilate and Hermione looks at me concerned. The air begins to close around me and my one lone tear begins to fall.

The rage builds within and I begin to shake, George looks down and I look away. I know Fred wouldn't want me to feel like this, but I want to go out and hunt those bastards who killed such a great guy. He's never hurt someone. So why? WHY? I break down and the tears fall at an alarming rate. George wipes them away and A small portion of rage is directed at him, if he loved Fred so much, why isn't he showing any signs of being upset. The funeral is over and everyone starts heading home.

"We'll met you at the house. I promise."George looks at me and puts an arm around my shoulder, Mrs. Weasley nods and gives me a faltered smile, her eyes are puffy and I feel ashamed for thinking only of myself.

George and I are finally the only ones left, and I can't help but shake. He looks so unfaltering. Like he doesn't care. The rage builds up and I can't help it, I tackle him to the ground. I punch and punch until my fists are aching with pain. And he just lets me. Not once trying to stop me. Falling to the ground, my tears fall once more, she sobs shaking my body. Why? Its the only question I have. Why him? I let loose and George pulls me into his lap, being my rock. Finally, I quiet and the sun is setting. I found a solution. I look at the sharp object littering the ground.

I could...

It would be only so easy. I pick up a piece of glass and turn it slowly, loving the feel of the glass in my hand. George watches for a moment then gasps. I slowly lay the sharpest edge on my skin and George grasps my hand.

"Harry, No." He wrestles for my life and I almost win. But like always, he's stronger.

"George, if you love me let me go." I whisper. "I miss him too much." And that finally breaks my rock. He falls into a world of despair, his sobs echoing throughout the cemetery. I join him in grief. Two men sitting their, loosing their minds in grief. I never thought it possible.

Time stands still and I look up, and then his lips are on mine and in my grief I cant stop it. I don't want to.

We keep going and he apperates us to his room. And our clothes are off and we're having meaningless grief sex. It means nothing to us. Our hearts are demolished, we're so far in our pain that we don't care about anything. Other than making the pain of his death disappear. We finish and slowly drift into sleep.

I wake up and feel a shred of remorse. Like I betrayed Fred and that I destroyed everything our relationship meant. And then I remember, he's gone. And I can't destroy what we no longer have. My pain is too great and I break into sobs once more. George isn't fairing any better. We hold onto each other hoping to bring back joy into our lives.

The bathroom is dark, but the razor shines from the small rays of moonlight slipping in from under the door and I'm considering just leaving this world.

"Harry, don't. I need you." And I fall. The razor slips out of my hand, and hits the floor with a sharp sound. My body shakes with sobs. "We'll get through this together. I promise."

It takes a few days, but all my stuff in in Georges apartment. We aren't together, but we hold on to our pieces of life in the only way we know how. Shared kisses and a bed. The night is upon me once again and I pull out the letters from Fred. I remember the shared looks and his grin. I remember him undressing me with his eyes every time we were in the same room. I remember the moments of forbidden romance on Hogsmade weekends. The kisses we stole when people weren't watching. And I press the bundle of letters to my lips and put them away one last time. I crawl into bed and promise I'll remember him for always. My one love.