Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine. It belongs to JK Rowling. So kudos to her! :D
A/N: Yeah, I know. There are way too many fics out there dedicated to remembering Fred. But, still. He and George shouldn't have been separated like that!
Summary: [Takes place during DH] Yes, George survived the battle at Hogwarts. But when it was all over, when he saw his twin lying lifeless in the Great Hall, it felt more like he was the one who had died that day.
Spoilers: Duh, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. *sniffles*
George fell back against the wall behind him as the four Death Eaters vanished in puffs of black smoke. His lungs burned for air, and his ribs felt bruised from where he had taken a hit. He could feel a trickle of blood oozing down the side of his forehead.
Where had the Death Eaters gone, and why? Was the battle finally over? Had Harry stopped You-Know-Who? And yet, as these optimistic questions flitted through George's mind, a feeling of dread was slowly growing deep inside him. He couldn't quite place it, couldn't quite figure out what it meant, but it was steadily becoming larger and larger. Something inside him was shriveling, dying.
And then the hard, cold voice of Voldemort echoed throughout the castle, making George jump and hold up his wand defensively before he realized that You-Know-Who wasn't actually bearing down on him. "You have fought valiantly. Lord Voldemort knows how to value bravery," he said, sounding much too calm for the battle scene that surrounded the redheaded Weasley. Too calm for the broken and mangled bodies that lay dead and dying around him. "Yet you have sustained heavy losses. If you continue to resist me, you will all die, one by one. I do not wish this to happen. Every drop of magical blood spilled in a loss and a waste."
George's heart felt cold at the harsh words, and a rush of anger filled him. He swallowed hard, the dread continung to grow deep within him, though it didn't seem to be born into existence by You-Know-Who's speech. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
"Lord Voldemort is merciful. I command my forces to retreat immediately. You have one hour. Dispose of your dead with dignity. Treat your injured."
There was a meaningful pause, then he went on darkly, "I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of the hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I will punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour."
Feeling almost painfully breathless as the chilling words faded away, George raised a shaking hand and wiped the sweat from his brow. Staring at his hand as though it belonged to someone else, he slowly lowered it back to his side.
He was afraid of You-Know-Who, like every other sensible witch and wizard out there. But he wasn't this afraid of the depraved tormentor, so afraid that he felt so completely weak and useless. He still felt that sense of wrongness, like he had lost something. Like his life had somehow been horribly changed forever.
Keeping his wand out, just in case You-Know-Who's words were untrue, George started off for the Great Hall at a fast walk. He knew that everyone would gather there, to wait out the hour and make plans for what they should do next.
He saw hardly anyone on the way to his destination, only bodies and stains of blood that coated the ground where he walked. He made sure not to study the bodies too carefully, in case he saw someone he knew. If only this battle could end without casualties, except for You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters. And yet, that growing sense of wrongness told him that he was foolish to believe such nonsense.
He finally came to the entrance of the Great Hall. Stepping slowly inside, he stopped and gazed at the changed room. The House tables had vanished, replaced by hundreds of people tightly huddled into groups. Those who had been injured were on the raised platform, Madam Pompfrey and several others tending to their wounds. And along one wall, unable to be overlooked, was a row of dead bodies. There were too many to count, and George felt sick as he gazed at those who gathered around their dead loved ones, weeping.
That's when he noticed the bunch of redheads standing in a far corner, huddled around something on the floor that he couldn't see. His chest felt tight, and his heart rate suddenly sped up. Stomach lurching, he tried to take a step forward, but found that his legs were numb, unmovable. His head started to throb, and his hands began shaking even harder than before.
His mother glanced over one shoulder, face stained horribly with tears and eyes red, then froze as her gaze landed on him. She became unimaginably pale, as though she'd just seen a ghost, then something like realization dawned in her traumatized expression. More tears began overflowing, then she abruptly looked away from him again.
The others, having seen her reaction, also turned to look in his direction. Mr. Weasley's eyes looked suspiciously wet, and Ginny was unabashedly sobbing. Percy, who was a mixture of awkwardness and sadness, was standing with Bill and Fleur beside Remus and Tonks. The two of them were lying on the floor, unmoving and pale, looking for all the world as though they were simply sleeping.
George relaxed minutely. It was a shock to see the two Order members lying there like that, but better than what he had been expecting. Though he wasn't exactly sure what it was that he had been expecting. Only that it was worse than anything he could imagine.
And then, as if on cue, he realized two people who were missing from the family gathering: Ron and…Fred. Ron was undoubtedly with Harry and Hermione, but where was his twin? Fred should be here where it was safe, not out wandering the corridors. Was he…injured? What if he was lying out there right now, bleeding and trying to hold onto a small thread of life?
Instinctively, his eyes ran over the area where the wounded was gathered. Not seeing that oh-so-familiar head of red hair, he turned slowly back to his family. The others were still looking at him, and now their expressions had changed slightly. There was something else there, lingering within the sadness: pity.
Chest becoming even tighter, George felt himself take an involuntary step forward. And then another, and then he was moving towards them. As he got closer, Percy and Ginny moved aside, revealing the body that Mrs. Weasley had heartbreakingly draped herself across.
It was Fred.
Feeling like the bottom had dropped out of his world, George staggered and nearly fell over before regaining his balance again. A strange and mildly startling numbness was rapidly encasing his entire body, until he felt more like a block of ice than a living person. His heart felt like it was trying to jump its way right out of his ribs, and he saw alarming black spots on his vision.
Somehow managing to steady himself, he walked forward, feeling like he was in a daze. Ignoring the arm that Percy offered him, perhaps to put around his shoulders and supposedly comfort him, he walked to Fred's head, and stood there staring down.
It was like looking in a mirror, seeing himself while he was sleeping. There were only minor differences, like the fact that Fred still had both his ears. And his clothes were torn in various places, showing that he had been in a fierce battle. There were bits of dried blood in several places on his white face. But there were no obvious wounds, no signs that he had been stabbed or anything so Mugglely violent. It could have only been the Avada Kedavra; the thought of it actually being used against his brother made him nauseous.
"What happened?" he managed to ask dully, in a choked voice that sounded completely unlike his normal tones.
"We were together at one of the outside walls, taking care of a pair of Death Eaters. Then it…exploded," Percy explained in a low voice, Adam's Apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed hard. "There was nothing…nothing any of us could do."
George nodded blankly, noticing for the first time that a ghost of a smile remained on Fred's dead lips. At least he had died happy, not knowing what was going to happen to him as he watched a Death Eater's wand glow green. That was all that mattered.
Dropping to his knees with a dull thud, he knelt beside Fred's head. Reaching out with a trembling hand, he stroked the matted red hair, choking back tears. Dead. Fred was dead. And now, he would no longer be part of the Fred and George duo. He would just be George, the pathetic and damaged twin that got left behind.
"George…" Mrs. Weasley said, looking up from her dead son with eyes that overflowed with tears of sadness.
But he paid no attention to her, having eyes only for Fred's peaceful face. He didn't move as she scooted closer to him and wrapped her arms warmly around him. He let her rest her head against his shoulder, tears wetting his shirt, but didn't react.
He wanted to cry, to sob onto his mother's shoulder about how unfair it was that he had been left behind. That Fred had left him alone. But he couldn't. He was numb. And Fred was never coming back.
I probably would have cried while writing this, but I'm kind of in a public place right now. So it would look kind of strange if I suddenly started sobbing… O.o Anyway, please review if you have the time. :)