Author note: this is my first fanfic :)) Rated for teens. I don't own any
characters all J.K Rowling. But I I I love her! Inspired after I read the
7th book. GeorgexAngelina. Post war, The story of how Angelina and George
helped each other heal and fell in love. Review please! :) and I
know its short but I'll probably create another chapter.
The answer
After the funeral and the complete shock of his death wore off, all he was left with was the unbearable
heartache. Everything he did, was with out meaning. He ate with out realizing. A hollow sad look crept
into his cerulean eyes killing the mischievous sparkle. He woke up from slumber crying every
hour or so with nightmares. Nightmares of him. His other half, his best friend, his partner in all the
shenanigans they pulled at Hogwarts. Dead.
They were always Fred and George, never theone with out the other. They had shared everything, a
mothers womb, the same desire to make people laugh, a room, a deep flowing connection
from twin to twin linking them together.
He began to slowly decline into a depressed state. He began to drink, and he closed the door that led to
myself not letting anyone in.
The flat above the shop they used to share was a bloody wreck. The various owls he had received
from Lee and his family, lay in sloppy piles on the cream rug in a corner. Trash lay everywhere, empty
firewhisky bottles strewn across the counter. A pile of dishes stacked in the sink, mold begging to form
like a weed.
He barley left his couch anymore, except to order food, alcohol and to take showers. He didn't go
outside anymore, He was hiding himself from the world, the pitting glances from passerby's and the
"I'm so sorry for your loss's." No one understood. How could anyone understand the loss he had
suffered.
Why his brother? Why did who ever is up there take away his brother leaving his family in pain and to
suffer? How was he supposed to find happiness again?
A month after the funeral was when the answer came. It was a rainy day and everything seemed bleak
and dreary. George was just lounging around his flat wearing a pair of ruddy old sweats, eyes
staring into a void of nothing, a 5 o'clock shadow on his face.
When he heard it. The faintest knocking sound. Crawling over to the other side of the big leather
brown sofa, he opened his blinds but nothing was there just the endless rain. At first he thought he was
really going insane but then it grew faintly louder. He marched to his door awkwardly on unsteady legs.
He hesitated, his hand on the door nob. What if it was his mum? Or one of those guys that come to kick
blokes out of there flats? The door swinging open
and hit him in the face bring him out of his thoughts abruptly
He stumbled side ways and knocked a chair over. Clumsily trying to stand back up straight while
holding his now bleeding noes, he turned toward the person whose, hand was still on the door nob
looking awestruck at him. Her pink full lips slightly parted as if she was about to speak.
George squinted his eyes and his voice squeaking out an astonished questioning whisper, "Angelina?."