Fire of Obsession
Disclaimer: I do not own any portion of Harry Potter, any of its characters, or any portion of J.K.Rowlings head.
George sighed as he opened the door to his empty apartment. It had been two months; two long, painful months since Fred left. George remembered that dreadful day as if it were yesterday. He had been at the shop while Fred stayed home sick and when George came home that night Fred was gone. He remembers that on that day they had so much buisiness, made so much money; and, naturally he wanted to celebrate it with his brother. He remembers running up the creaking steps to his apartment smelling the rotted wood, he remembers that he was smiling as he unlocked the door expecting to see his sick brother lying on the couch, moping that he had to go home early from work. But Fred wasn't on the couch nor was he in his bedroom. In fact as George ran from room to room he realized that Fred wasn't anywhere, he just disappeared. George decided that Fred was out with some friends or Angelina or even playing a trick on him, regardless of his illness but the night passed and Fred didn't come home. Then a day passed. Then another; and another... It wasn't until two weeks passed without word that George really accepted Fred wasn't coming home. Then only twenty minutes later denied the fact, insisting that Fred must be just staying with some friends still.
Now George, still hanging desperately to denial, wondered forlornly why Fred isn't home, and why would he leave, and when would he be coming back? If he comes back at all…
In the end the rationality won out, and George decided that it didn't matter why Fred left. Especially since the knowledge of why he left was not going to bring him back. But a part of George just wouldn't let him believe that. No matter the logical solution, nothing would make him settle on the idea that his brother would leave without a word and never return. His brother will come back and at first George knew he would be angry, but then they will both laugh about it and they can be themselves again. Gred and Forge. So George waited for Fred to come back, just passing the days in passivity, nothing more. But two months have passed with the same silence and everyday George lost some that hope. Everyday George became more and more depressed.
And all the thoughts ate away at him, ripping him apart with his anguish and fear and George sat the groceries on the counter and threw his mail down watching with mild disinterest as the mail fell to the floor, kicking up the dust with its feathery landing on the old wood. This brought his thoughts back to Fred once again. Fred was the cleaner twin, not him. Without Fred the house just keeps getting filthier, messier, too messy. But once again George's rational side screams that it doesn't matter, a house is just a house so why should it matter how it looks? Still George couldn't help but notice the dishes piling up in the sink; even growing some sort of mold in between the moist porcelain. The formerly white carpet was stained dark gray as it collected dust, dirt, and random pieces of food that had been thrown about. The bathroom was at the point of becoming biological hazard, and George couldn't even stand to be in there for two minutes, and it gave him the creeps just thinking about it. He knew he should clean the house but his denial kept him from the task. If he cleans the house than it will prove that Fred isn't going to come back and George refuses to allow that to become real so George allowed the house to slowly fall apart and waited for his brother to come back and make everything as it used to be. After such a long time away from his brother, George felt like he would welcome any kind of contact, even if the first words from Fred's lips were expletives about the state of their living space.
He put the groceries away without even realizing that he is doing so, for so many things, his mind is on autopilot, as it has been for two months. And George allowed himself to become angry again at his brother for doing this to him and it just seems incomprehensible why Fred would put him through such anguish. He thought they had a good life, thought Fred was happy but apparently he wasn't, if he had been, he would still be here with him, right?
A telephone rings somewhere below countless bills, newspaper, and letters on the desk by the door and George snapped to attention, his heart rising with hope. It is Fred, he is calling to tell him he is coming home. Suddenly he is running over to the desk throwing the countless papers off, hearing them hit the floor with thuds and rustles and crunches. He ignored the sounds as he frantically searched the mess for the phone. He needs to find the phone, god damn where the hell is it?! He finally finds it and with shaky hands picks it up, cutting off the tone in mid-ring. His breath is shallow, straining his ears as he desperately expected to hear Fred's voice. Instead he hears nothing.
"Hello?" He tries, hearing his words echo in the muggle device like an empty cave. Nothing. The cave is empty. This has been happening for a while now, ever since 'they' got the phone six months ago thanks to Hermione.
"Hello?" He tries again, getting more angry with every second that passes without response.
"Listen, I'm getting really pissed off with this shit. Either you talk or I'm hanging up." George practically screamed into the phone but as soon as he said the word shit, he heard the soft 'click' of whoever was on the other line hanging up. George let out a frustrated growl and slammed the phone down wondering why he didn't just disconnect it, no one calls him anyway. They just send letters though owls like normal wizards. So what is stopping him? Fred, George tells himself. Fred liked talking on the phone. He liked the intimacy of the phone, of hearing the voices of the people you wanted to hear as you spoke with immediate response, faster than any owl could possibly fly. But unlike Fred, George never really heard anyone on the phone, just creepy breathing or silence. Still he knew if Fred is going to try to contract him it will be by phone. He was sure of it.
The sound of the dial tone snaps George back into the present as he realized that the parabolic muggle relic bounced when he threw it onto its holster and without a second wasted he hung up properly and headed to his bedroom to get some sleep. But before heading off to sleep he turned the ringer of the phone off. Knowing it was the only way he will be able to get some sleep tonight.
Ever since that day, night has been hard for George. All night long he had dreams about Fred, hurt, crying for help, crying George to find him. He even awakened once to the sound of someone crying only to realize it was his own voice. He thought one time that someone was walking around in the living room, could even hear the feet hitting the ground, and the sounds of metal hitting metal but George was too afraid to check. Even with the desperation of his mind screaming that Fred had come home, he managed to stay logical enough to assume it could just as easily be a burgler. So he locked his bedroom door and creeped into his closet and locked that too. Finally feeling safe in his hiding place George finally managed to fall asleep. In the morning he could see the sunlight shining from the cracks of the closet door before he even opened his eyes. He unlocks the door and slowly opens it and is mildly surprised to notice that he forgot to close the blinds like he always do at night.. He found himself smiling as he tried to locate any places where someone might have been able to see him sleeping and laughed more at himself for doing so. Who would care to secretly look at you, especially when you are sleeping? He looks at his bedroom door to find it still locked with no sign of harassment. He thought about last night and decided that his mind was probably just playing tricks on him.
Standing up and feeling more relieved, he went though his morning routine, taking a shower, getting dressed, eating breakfast, brushing his teeth, practicing his charming sales-smile, and checking the voicemails from last night, and skimming the news trying to see if Harry and his sister were mentioned at all. He wasn't surprised to see the dull black '30' on the machine, indicating all the voicemails he missed. He clicked the play button and picks up the paper looking for anything interesting that may boost his spirit for another day.
"Message one." A cheerful, feminine, automated voice announced and George found himself listening, maybe today will be the day Fred contacts him. So he waited with bated breath, wishing to hear the familiar voice only to hear… nothing. Just breathing… again. George felt himself frowning as he heard the soft 'click' of someone hanging up and then a beep indicating the end of the message.
"Message two." And as George finally finds something worthwhile in the newspaper he hears the muted sound of hanging up again not seconds after the message began.
"Message three." Nothing again, just someone hanging up.
"Message four." Nothing again.
"Message five." George threw the newspaper to the ground, and turned all his attention to the voicemail. He found himself frowning all the more when all he heard was someone breathing, and then hanging up.
"Message six…" All thirty messages were exactly the same and by the end George found himself getting closer and closer to the phone until he was close enough for his nose to touch the circular grate where the sound came through. He couldn't understand why those voicemails scared him so much, but they did and he swallowed as he felt the panicky feeling raising within his chest, the hairs standing up against his neck, and he felt desperate to have his brother with him right now, if only to tell him how much of a baby he was being. But Fred wasn't here and George was very scared and didn't understand why.
The phone rang again interrupting his thoughts as he stared at the phone, desperately wanting an excuse avoid having to pick it up. But he did anyway, just in case it happened to be Fred.
It wasn't. But it wasn't the eerie breathing either, it was Hermione.
"Hello George." She says kindly.
"Hermione." He replied quickly. Hell if he was going to let anyone know how bothered he was by a bunch of harmless phone messages; except maybe Fred.
"How have you been holding up?" She asked without any hint of emotion. Hermione always had the uncanny ability to make kind sayings sound as listless as a conversation on the weather. But George knew she cared, even if she didn't show it much when she spoke.
"I'm okay."
"Good, because Ron and I have been worried about you." Hermione adds with her usual nag. George rolled his eyes. Fred loves hearing other people talk; George doesn't always love to hear other people speak.
"I'm fine. Now drop it, okay?"
"Fine, but Ron wanted me to ask if you wanted to come to dinner with us today."
"No, I can't. I have a lot of things to do around the shop, especially since I'm the only one working the shop for now."
"George please, Ron really wants to see you, you guys haven't spoken in ages."
"We talked three days ago."
"Please?" George swayed a little as some real emotion entered her voice. He didn't allow it to be noticeable in his own.
"Fine, whatever."
"Thanks George." She said as she was about ready to hang up when George spoke, stopping her.
"Hey, you've had muggle phones all your life right?"
"Yes, of course."
"Then is it normal to get a lot of calls where no one is speaking?" George asked honestly.
"No, of course not…have you been getting calls like that?" She asked her pitch slightly higher than normal. Belaying her concern.
"Yeah, a little." George was reluctant to let her know since it sounded like it would prompt her to investigate.
"Let me come over so I can hear them." She demanded. Right on the mark.
"It's probably nothing right? I Don't want to worry you too much."
"How many calls have you gotten like that?" Her voice had its usual pessimistic urgency.
"Just a couple…" He lied smoothly and he could hear her sigh with relief.
"If it is just a couple than it is probably just some prank callers."
"Is that bad?"
"No just annoying as hell. Listen I have to go, we will meet you at Lions at six. Don't bail out this time okay?" George ignored her question and tempted fate.
"Umm… what can it be if there are more than a couple of calls?"
"Anything. Don't scare yourself into thinking that something is wrong okay?"
"Okay, sorry. See you at six." She hadn't become suspicious again. She is probably right… George thought, allowing his mind to relax a bit. Its probably just some of those 'prank callers'.
"That's right, six in the evening, six sharp, don't forget."
"I won't." He said hanging up the phone. He stares at it for a minute before standing up and walking out the apartment and headed to work. And after work he goes immediately to the restaurant. And while he was gone his phone rings over and over again, his voicemail rising with each call until it reached sixty messages where the calls finally stops. The voicemail flashed red, making the desk light up like snake eyes in the dark apartment just waiting for the owner to come home.
Author note: finally the fic is being beta-d. Okay I am going to make a guess and say that this fic is going to be twenty chapters, it could be more or could be less. Please review!
BN: I know betas aren't traditionally supposed to write notes but I had a hand in this fic too dammit : So I'm gonna say sommat. This fic is awesome and its gonna get awsomer now that I'm betaing it, so you lot better post reviews so she'll write more cause I wanna know where it goes too!