George sat there, he wasn't going to cry, he couldn't. He just held onto his twin's hair while he tried to take in the fact that this was the end. The end of the one he had shared everything with. His vacant eyes staring into eyes that would never have belonged to their Fred.
He didn't dare look up, to see the cold dead bodies surrounding him. He didn't dare look up and witness his mother's grief. He didn't dare look up incase he saw the body of his other lover lying cold somewhere in the hall. The snatcher, he had lost sight of him halfway through the battle. It was dark, he supposed, his lover blended in well. Yet if he was... well you know.. then he couldn't forgive himself for not seeing Scabior fighting on his side. The right side. Standing up to what he was brought up to believe was right. He had snatched a minute of their time before hand to tell the twins that he was going to be fighting with them, instead of against them like he was supposed to.
Everyone who was dead laid in the hall, from death-eaters, to muggle-borns, from spies to half-bloods. Everyone who had passed and would now never rise. Yet in the hall mixed emotions were shown, there was crying with laughter to crying with sadness. They had won, Voldemort was defeated. They were free, in a way, except etched with the horrors of what they had just seen and with the devastation about to hit of those lost. Everyone knew someone, it just so happened that George had lost half of his world.
George sat their not moving from his twins, lovers side. He didn't look up, not able to cope with seeing his other lover as cold and as pale as Fred was now. The dark hair messier than normal, the dark eye-make up smudged more than regular. He couldn't think that, there was some hope. Not everyone had gone, some had. Fred Had. But that didn't have to mean Scabior was, it didn't. It couldn't.
It wasn't. A hand rested on his shoulder, a sideway glance confirmed it, as he saw a glove-covered hand resting there.
3-1, they were now an ordinary pair.
They were different after that night and for most nights after. The spark that Scabior loved had gone from Georges' eyes. Their sleep pattern was different, no longer were nights filled of laughs, smirks and sex. Instead they were filled with comfort sex and words that were never spoken, words that were, Fred, and Dead. Those two words had been banned. It was an unspoken rule between them. It just was.
Life continued for them. Scabior regained his snark and George continued to come up with brilliant schemes for the shop. The schemes were different, there's something different when it's two minds working together rather than one. But they still managed to entertain the kids setting of to use them at Hogwarts causing chaos and havoc to the teachers who remained. That was one of the small facts that managed to put a smile on his face. A smile which in turn led to a smirk appearing on Scabior's lips.
AN: Characters Belong To J.K Rowling. This Is Just A Figment Of My Imagination
-Same verse as My story: Perhaps.