reflections of what should have been
Characters: George and Fred Weasley
Summary: It was simply not fair.
Prompts used: Riddle, "When you light a candle, you also cast a shadow." ― Ursula K. Le Guin, Dog Days Are Over, Florence and the Machine
Slightly AU
"Mum used to say we were the same soul split in two and walking around on four legs. It seems unnatural being born together and then dying apart."
― Melodie Ramone, After Forever Ends
George Weasley was lonely.
No.
George Weasley had become the very definition of loneliness.
Because what was he without Fred?
He was absolutely nothing, a faint shadow of what once had been, a reflection that lacked the original. Fred had been the most expressive among the brothers, George had known. The one everyone liked because he was charming and eccentric and attractive – and because he had had both ears. George without Fred was a bad joke at best and a tragedy at least.
He missed his brother dearly. They had shared so many things along the years that it felt wrong to see Lee somewhere without Fred chuckling and already plotting a prank. It was a stinging wound whenever he wanted to put the vegetables he loathed but Freed liked, had liked onto his twin's plate – only to remember that both the plate and the brother were not there.
It took him three months, eight days and nine hours before he managed to step into their store – only to rush out, crashing into Lavender Brown who was the new owner of the store next to him. (He had expected her to sell fashion but the scarred girl-turned-woman sold ice cream and cakes and seemed to be quite happy this way.)
So returning to the store already was a no-go, at least at the moment. So he went and helped with the reconstruction of Hogwarts. This was better and worse at the same time. Being back in the corridor where his brother had fallen to never get back up again was painful yet the exhausting work McGonagall made him do got his mind out of those dark thoughts.
Twins shared a complicated bond, one that could never be torn apart. They were meant to be together for as long as the world was covered in icy white in the winter and while their paths might sometimes differ from each other, they were supposed to reunite at another crossroad.
But Fred was not waiting at the crossroad for him, he had gone further than that.
Sometimes, they had made jokes about how funny it would be to return to Hogwarts after death, to put Peeves out of business with better pranks.
The memory hurt a lot, now, because he could not stop looking for Fred, pearly and just as young as he had been when he had been struck down by the curse, when he had died. As he worked, he believed that he heard the low chuckle of his brother. Twice, he nearly yelled 'Fred!' across a hallway before he realised that it was not his brother, just a red-haired seventh year from Ravenclaw who was probably somehow related to them.
So this was what had become of George Weasley, prankster extraordinaire, member of the Resistance and hero of a war: a living proof of the scars and the sorrow the war had left. Without his brother, he was just one out of six.
"Weasley."
He looked away from the window he was fixing and nodded at the headmistress. "Hello."
"I never thought I would ever say this but … go take a break," the woman said. "Go and scout the castle for further damages, damages we have not seen as of now."
He nodded, pocketing his wand. He knew that she was probably worried, everyone was. There were not many twins within the wizarding community because the magic warped genetic structures and there was no current scientist intelligence about what happened when one of them died. George knew about this. He had heard Percy and their father argue about this, had heard Charlie's offer to keep a close eye on him. Even Ginny and Ron, the youngest among them, had made remarks according to which George was highly suicidal.
Why did they not understand that George did not want to die? He was missing his brother and he wanted to see him again, sure, but this did not mean that he actually wanted to kill himself. He would never do that do his mother, to his family.
Crossing his arms, he made his way to the GryffindorTower out of old habit. He had no real reason to be there but it would be most likely empty as the new year had not started yet and as most people were downstairs, working both with magic and without. Rebuilding a castle as big as Hogwarts took a lot out of everyone. Even for wizards like McGonagall it was not easy at all, especially since they all had memories.
He waved at the Fat Lady who had been tasked to let former students of her house in without setting up a password previously and stepped through the hole, being nearly blinded by the sunlight shining through the windows. The common room was empty, just like he had guessed. He sighed deeply as he crossed the room to sit down on the windowsill to relax a little. After a few moments, he allowed his eyes to close, hoping that if he were to fall asleep, no nightmares would plague him. He had seen his brother die too many times lately.
"Yo."
His eyes sprang open as he jumped to his feet, drawing his wand in the progress – some leftover paranoia from the war if nothing else. Yet there was no reason to worry because pearly and floating in midair, Fred Weasley had decided to return as a ghost.
"Yo to you as well," George managed to say after a moment. "Scared of death, really?"
His ghost twin rolled his eyes. "More like bound by a promise," he said with a shrug as he approached, turning the air cold. "I guess we were both more than ready to die in that death. We just weren't ready to live on with the other one gone."
"…do the others know?" George asked after a moment. He was incredible happy to see his brother again, to hear that Fred was – relatively – fine and that he seemed to be content with his current state.
"No." The dead brother sighed, drifting over to a couch and ending up sitting in it instead of on it. "Bloody hell," he cursed under his breath. "And, well, don't tell them. Mum would cry. I don't want to see her cry. Ginny too. I have made them suffer too much already."
"So this is the shadow the light casts?" George mused, paraphrasing one of the sappy love songs his mother loved a little too much. "That you are back but not returning?"
"Probably, yeah," Fred said. "I would love to return but how can I eat mum's food when I am a ghost? I would only hurt them. I cannot to that to them. You are my twin. I cannot hide from you. I spoke with the Nick – we will be co-Gryffindor ghosts."
"McGonagall will know. She always knows."
"Her exact words were 'Dear Merlin! Weasley, what did I do to deserve this?' but I guess she was kinda happy to see me as well."
"McGonagall was never happy to see us. Okay, she might have been happy about the swamp thing. But usually, she was happy when we left the classroom," George said drily. He was happy to see his brother yet he accepted that for the sake of his family – and especially for his mother – he could not run around declaring it openly. He would have to keep a dead man's secret until he was in his own grave. He could see Fred hiding from the eyes of those who might recognise him, imagined him diving under some not-yet-enrolled-first-grader's bed when someone had arrived to reconstruct the GryffindorTower. Fred had died laughing yet in his ghost life – was it even a life? What was the politically correct expression, anyway? – he could prank no one because he would expose himself.
"You might be right," Fred shrugged. "How is everyone doing?"
"Mum misses you a lot. But I guess you knew it. We all miss you. Perce feels guilty, even asked whether he could take over a part-time job at the store. I told him no, that he should keep working fulltime at the ministry and save the world. He is good at the stuff after all."
"Of course he is."
George was about to reply when he heard footsteps. Within a flash second, Fred threw himself through wall. As a ghost, he could not get hurt after all and beater reflexes were great, only second to keeper and seeker. George himself turned around, a feeling of dread raising inside of him as he saw his sister in the doorframe.
Had she heard them talking somehow?
"Are you alone here?" she asked, fingers nervously toying with the hem of her skirt.
"Yeah."
"I thought I heard you talking with F-, someone," she muttered, eyes roaming over the common room, a place where she used to be so happy and carefree, joking with her classmates, arguing with her brothers."
With every word, George's happiness faded, like it was washed away by the rain. He had to keep a secret from his family, a secret that hurt them both kept and revealed. He would hurt them and they would not even know. He would hurt his mother more than he had done it by dropping out of school. He would not be able to meet his father's eyes. Charlie's offer to take him to Romania to meet some dragons would taste like ashes now. God, even Bill's and Fleur's generosity, the way they had told him to come over whenever he pleased, was painful now. Percy had tried to be understanding though this had never been his forte. Ron, Ginny – everyone.
But George was an adult, no child who could cry for someone else to carry his burden. He had to betray his family's love and their trust and they would not even know. And this hurt because he loved them and he knew that they never expected anything but honesty from him.
And this was the only thing he could not grant them.
"I talked to myself," he lied, a sad smile easily sliding into place. "But let's go – it's time for lunch, isn't it? I am starving."
He held out his hand like he had done it a thousand times when she had been a little child and hesitantly, she took it. He was happy about it, happy that she was not yelling at him that she was too old for this (even though she really was)
He looked straight ahead as they walked through the corridors. Yes, he should have known better than to return to Hogwarts.
Yet for the rest of Ginny's life, the question would stay unanswered – and she knew that George had never been one for conversations with herself. This had been Fred's domain.