"And as I come to rest, do not wake me up,
for I will not be the same"
It was quiet at the Burrow. The remaining members of the family sat in silence at the dinner table, not quite knowing what to say. Fred's chair stood empty, George had refused to let their mother move it.
A month had almost passed since the battle of Hogwarts and things were slowly returning to normal, at least as normal as things could become after losing a son, a brother, a friend... George did not eat. Mrs Weasley had managed to get him to drink sometimes, giving him soup in a cup, but he wouldn't eat with the others. Most of the days he spent up in what was now only his room, with two beds. Two of everything, but he was the only one there.
Mr Weasley had been comforting his wife as she cried every evening, worried and feeling helpless about what to do with George. If he had chosen to stay at the appartment above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, she would have broken down completely with worry and angst. He had changed so much. He never told a joke anymore, never smiled. They had come to understand that was Fred's thing and George always followed. The leader was gone and George was left alone, empty and no longer caring. Not even when Ginny came to talk to him did he care. Not when she cried or begged or needed him. He ignored her, and his heart burned as he did so, but he had no strength to hold her and make things better.
"He was my brother too" Ginny whispered. She had been sitting by the door in what used to be the twins' room, facing his back as he stared out the window. George swallowed. It hurt to swallow, his throat was dry and sore. The clouds on the sky were heavy and dark blue, hiding thunder and lightening before they would all pierce the dirty cotton and shoot down the sky.
"I can't help you, Ginny" he said weakly. He was tired, but not sleepy. His eyes hurt, his joints and muscles were aching, he had burns and bruises slowly healing on his skin, and everything reminded him of that day.
Ginny let out a sniffle. He knew she was crying, and that she was trying to hide it from him. Showing him she was being torn appart and he would do nothing made her hurt more. Softly, he asked her to leave. He needed to be alone, to think, to understand. Fred was gone. He is never coming back, ever again.
That night the thunder and lightening exploded across the sky. The first rain of the early summer fell, and last year Fred and George had been up all night celebrating, counting their gold, discussing new products. That would never happen again.
George looked at the mess of blueprints and parchments, toffee papers, and the blobs and stains of chemicals and potions across the floor. It was all Fred's, and that made him leave it there. Looking at it was suffocating him, and George ledt the room in a hurry, running down the stairs and out through the door. The rain soaked him within minutes as he ran.
The crypt was not far away, it was a family tomb of the Weasleys for generations. Old and moldy. George stopped infront of it. The stone was green in places, and there were a few cracks here and there. George had begged his family not to bury Fred there. As they were younger, the twins had always feared that place as their auntie Muriel had explained it to be a house of the dead and right after explained how a dead person decomposes. George remembered that still, and that scared him aswell.
Deabting to himself weither he should go in or not brought him to tears. It was his brother, his twin, he had no fear of Fred. What scared him was to enter the house of the dead and know Fred was there, rotting away like the others. It hurt him more that it frightened him.
After a few minutes, thunder lighting up the sky, he grabbed the rusty handles and opened the large doors. It squeeked as he did so, and he could see nothing in there as it was open. Swallowing hard, he grabbed his wand and whispered 'lumos', before he slowly went down the dark stairs.
The walls had large shelves with coffins, naming his dead ansesters. It was bigger than it looked on the outside.
It smelled of mold and wood, filthy water. Many shelves were still empty, and there were marble tables in the middle of the room. He didn't bother to count them, he knew there were one table for each living member, even with little copper plates with their names engraved. He found his own and stared at it for a minute, before he walked up to the table just above. That one was not empty.
Frederick Weasley
1978 – 1998
He just stared at the name. His twin's name. Many memories flashed through his mind, and their conversations almost echoed within the crypt walls.
The coffin was redish brown with a carved pattern on the side. George let his fingers trace the pattern, forming trees and mountains. He knew it was the Hogwarts grounds and surroundings. Fred loved it there, even though school was boring he loved going to the highlands, breathing fresh air, clearing his head.
As George was all cought up in his mind, his fingers had now found a large iron handle. His head went blank and he held his breath. He could hear his pulse pounding loudly in his ear. He bit his lip. Would he dare to open it?
"You wouldn't scare me, would you Gred?" George whispered. He was frightened to open the coffin, not knowing if it would still be his brother in there. He didn't know what the state would be of someone after being dead a month.
"George, what are you doing here?"
He turned around. It was his father, dressed in his pajamas and robe.
"Nothing I was just..."
George didn't know what to say. He let go off Fred's coffin and walked up to his father. "I was just... I miss him, dad" he said quietly, and Mr Weasley took him in his arms.
"We all miss him, George. We all miss him"
He hugged his son, before he led him back up the stairs and closed the big doors. He then placed his hand on George's back. "Come on now" he said and they walked together back to the Burrow.
Entering the kitchen, George saw his mother sitting by the table. She had made tea. As soon as she saw them, she stood up.
"Oh, George I was so worried" she said and hugged him tightly. "Where were you?"
"He was at the crypt" Mr Weasley said and sat down. Mrs Weasley let go off George and looked him in the eyes.
"What were you doing there?"
George sat down and let out a sigh.
"Just visiting Fred is all"
"In the middle of the night?" Mrs Weasley squealed, and her husband put his hand on her shoulder to calm her down.
"I miss him. I needed to go" George said quietly. "He's out there all alone, and it's the first summer rain, we always..."
The words caught in his throat, forming a sore lump from memories and tears.
Mrs Weasley leaned forward.
"Georgie... He is gone, he is dead, he's not feeling anything"
Her words stabbed him as a knife. He knew, he wasn't stupid. He just hated the thought of it.
"Listen to me, son" Mr Weasley began. "I don't want you going there alone. I know you're an adult, but in this state I don't want you to go there. You will not open that coffin"
Mrs Weasley gasped and looked between her husband and her son. She was frightened, and she knew it would scar George for life if he ever saw his brother.
"It is just his body, George. His soul is not trapped in there. Do not dwell with thoughts about seeing him, he is not our old Freddie anymore"
Thei words were ripping him appart. He had not seen his brother since they day he died. He had wanted to wash his wounds, dress him, prepare him for the funeral, but they had shut him out and his mother had done it all. He was angry at her for it, but he did not say anything.
"Promise me you will not go to see him" Mrs Weasley said and looked him in the eyes. George nodded.
"I promise, mum. I won't".