Another oneshot about George and Angelina, with a little bit of Fred. Hope you like it guys!
George walked slowly over to the wooden cot, creeping closer to his fate. Fred's death was still fresh in his mind, as if the tragedy had only happened yesterday. Angelina sat behind him, staring dismally at his back. She wanted him to be happy, to smile again. George just didn't know how to do that anymore.
Placing a hand on the side of the cot, steadying himself, George looked down into his son's eyes. He hadn't expected the child to be awake, nor had he expected the beaming smile planted on the boy's face. A few seconds passed by before George conquered the initial shock, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply. When he re-opened his mournful brown eyes he took in more of his son's features.
First he saw the classic Weasley hair, it's short strands sticking out of the top of his head like fire. Then he started to look closer at his son's eyes, something which he soon regretted. Something shattered inside him as pain struck through his chest. Those eyes, his eyes, were staring up at him. The same deep brown that George always saw in his reflection. The same eyes he had shared with his twin. It broke his heart to look at them, but he found himself incapable of looking away.
George let out a defeat sob, echoing the same agonizing noise he made the first time he saw Fred's frozen eyes staring up at him. He wanted to cry his heart out, he wanted to die right there and then. He wanted to take back the day of his brother's death; he'd give his own life if it meant saving Fred from that terrible fate.
But George found, as he locked eyes with his son, those small brown eyes a reflection of his own, he would never be able to bring himself to do that. He thought about what he would have to leave behind; his friends, his family, Angelina or even his own son. He could never leave them.
'You have so much to live for, Georgie,' whispered a voice into the silent room. George was sure he recognised whose voice it was. 'But if you can't see that, then promise me something.' His eyes widened, that was Fred's voice! George swallowed, forcing back the tears before replying to his brother. "Anything, Freddie."
A gasp escaped Angelina's lips, but she refused to interfere. She knew George wasn't imagining things, because even though she couldn't hear Fred, she knew he was there. She didn't want to interrupt what could've been George's last chance to talk to his lost brother. She would never take something so important away from him.
'If you can't live for yourself, then live for me.'
George sighed, looking down at his son and into those dazzling eyes. "I promise, Freddie," he whispered and kissed his son on the forehead lightly. The little boy giggled happily and wriggled around in his cot. For the first time in years George smiled a genuine, happy smile.
"I promise," he repeated as the name he had thought of for his son echoed through his mind. Angelina knew too, as George turned to look at her, grinning madly like he was 17 again. She laughed, overjoyed that George had finally found his place in the world again.
"Our little Freddie," they said in unison, laughing into the night.