If I End It
I could end it.
I could end it right now, and I will finally know who I am once more. My life would put itself back into place, even if it means a couple of sacrifices. Because up until this moment, I've been George Weasley: Fred Weasley's twin and co-owner of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
Now, I'm George Weasley: a former member of a family of nine, which has been reduced to eight in the past four days, and the sole owner of one of the biggest and most popular joke shops in Britain. I'm not a big fan of this idea.
As the casket lowers down into the ground, I can't help but feel a shiver down my spine, as if I am the one who is being condemned to the suffocating earth. My mother's muffled sobs are the only thing I hear. Besides that, the atmosphere is sickly quiet. After the last bits of soil cover the hole that was made, everyone recedes into the Burrow.
However, I don't. Instead, I sit down on the dew-covered grass and let my red hair fall into my eyes. A soft rain falls from the ominous clouds above, which stains my tuxedo. I still stay. I need some time to think on my own.
Normally, Mum would have ushered me into the house, complaining that I would get a cold if I stayed out. Today, though, she doesn't appear. She knows better than anyone, that I'm taking Fred's death harder than anyone else. Even Angelina and the rest of the family are taking it better than I.
I can't deny that I'm somewhat glad that he died the way he did though. Death could not remove the everlasting smile off of his face, and at least it had been quick while others had not been so lucky. I remember seeing one particular nasty body during the battle at Hogwarts.
Fenrir Greyback had just finished with her: a poor girl about the age of 18 who had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Her body was barely intact, blood oozing everywhere: her head, arms, legs, abdomen. One of her viscera laid beside her where her stomach had been shredded. Her face was stuck in a scream that will forever remain.
I shake my head clear of the image. I don't need another disturbing memory to deal with; I have plenty of those already. One specific thought comes to mind again. That same idea has been haunting me ever since I became the sole twin. I only have to point my wand at myself, say the magic words, and I won't be alone anymore.
My head tempts me to do it; quite badly I'd say. In fact, the only thing holding me back is the effect it would have on my family. Ginny would have one less brother to fuss over her love life, Ron would have one less person to tease him endlessly. Bill and Charlie would have no little twin brother, and Percy would have no one left to taunt him. Mum and Dad would have five children, not seven. The Weasley family would be missing somebody else.
Oh, but I want to so bad. I can't live with the feelings that are churning inside of me. I still want to carry on with the shop, I still want to make a good living, I still want to go out with Angelina Johnson.
I want all of the things he wanted when he was alive, and it's killing me to know that he can never achieve those dreams. Only I feels like the shadows are closing in, pulling me down with them, and I'm not even struggling. I want to go under. Maybe then, I can be at peace with myself. Maybe.
"George?"
I recognize that voice, but I don't say anything.
"I know what you're thinking, George. Please don't," Angelina pleads, uselessly covering herself with her shawl. The rain is pouring so hard now, that everything will be soaked soon. There's no use in even trying.
"You didn't lose a part of yourself that day," I reply, not quite saying what she was hoping for.
She sighs, her black hair dripping. She looks nice. A simple black dress clings to her body, showing off her curves without her noticing. Her shoulders are covered with a thin gray shawl, and her plain flats don't protect her feet from the rain whatsoever. "Do you honestly believe that?"
I stare off into the distance, completely ignoring her. It's a futile attempt; she can't move me.
Her words have only convinced me that I should do it.
"Everyone lost part of themselves! You're just too blind to see that!" she exclaims trying to grab my attention. She succeeds.
"I haven't been blind to anything," I retort. My eyes have been more open than ever. The world doesn't seem as such a happy and wonderful place as it used to be. Harsh reality has forced itself upon me, and I can't shake it off.
Angelina chuckles sarcastically. "Oh please," she says, raising her arms in exaggeration. "You've been blind to everything!"
Anger boils up in me. What does she know? Her brother didn't die recently! "Really? Then what, exactly, have I not seen?"
"The other day I saw Ron ignore a spider because he was too busy crying. Ginny won't leave Harry's side because she's afraid he might disappear too. Your Mum can't last a few minutes without collapsing to the floor because everything reminds her of the son she lost! Percy constantly blames himself for what happened to Fred, and nobody can convince him otherwise!" Angelina bursts.
I finally turn around to face her. I knew that they were upset but...
"How do you know about all of this?"
She looks up into my eyes and I suddenly feel naked. "Hermione told me," she claims. "A Granger knew more about the Weasleys than you did."
That sentence hits me harder than I would have liked. Was it true? And since when was Hermione staying in the Burrow? I hadn't noticed her before...
We don't say anything for a few minutes; both of us are too busy taking in what just happened. The silence is only broken when Angelina decides to speak up.
"Trust me, George. You're needed here."
I hear her retreat back into the house as the rain lightens up a little. I think I'll believe her for now. Maybe it will get better.
Maybe.
