I wrote this a few years ago, put it up, then took it down. I've decided to put it back up again. This is one of my favorite ones that I have ever written. Trigger warning still stands, Please be safe my readers.
TRIGGER WARNING!
Self mutilation, attempted suicide, forced commitment to the psychiatric ward.
Listen, if any of you are struggling with self mutilation, depression, anxiety, suicidal thoughts, please please please PLEASE reach out. If you need help getting help, I can assist you. It took me years to get the help I desperately needed. I promise you, it gets better.
My inbox is always open if you need someone to talk to, I will respond to you as soon as possible. And if you need someone immediately:
1-800-273-8255
I love you guys. Stay healthy.
_
George Weasley was never quiet. He was always energetic and never stayed still for more than 30 seconds. He was talkative and a smartass.
When Fred died, he didn't speak for days. He cried silent tears and would sit on the couch in the burrow, staring at the wall. He went through the motions of living, his mind in another place.
His siblings tried to coax him out of his silence, but he didn't talk. They quickly gave up. Hermione read to him, hating the silence that engulfed the burrow. She read muggle books, a story called Hamlet and another called Of Mice and Men. They were sad stories, and George was a bit glad for that. Hermione wasn't even trying to force him to be happy. He wasn't ready to smile and laugh.
George cracked at the funeral.
They lowered the casket into the ground and reality came rushing towards George. This was it. His other half, his companion, confidant, partner in crime, his best friend and brother, would never come back to this world. He was gone.
And George couldn't stand it. He cried and wailed, his sorrow filling the air. Everyone was somber and looked the other way as the man who had premature laugh lines cried on his knees in the mud. Hermione was the only one to approach him and wrap her arms around his broken form.
Molly had shed too many tears and couldn't cry anymore. Her eyes were in a permanent state of red, but she didn't cry anymore. She didn't know how to comfort her son, and let the bushy haired witch take care of him for the moment.
The dirt on Fred's grave was pressed flat with a flick of a wand and George sat next to the headstone. Everyone left except for Hermione, who promised that she would stay for as long as she was needed. She had taken to comforting the wounded and lost. The ones who had lost too much.
Like Dennis Creevy, who had lost so much at such a young age. He was only a fourth year. She remembered when he fell into the lake his first year crossing the lake. He had been so excited, shivering and cold yet ecstatic tiny little boy, looking smaller than he was wrapped in Hagrid's cloak.
And Andromeda, who could do nothing but sit at her kitchen table and hold Teddy. He was her last connection to her daughter and husband. She had lost her entire family, being left with a tiny newborn to raise all by herself.
Hermione took care of them all.
And right now, George needed her. So she sat with him, protecting him from the rain when it came, and conjured a blanket when darkness fell.
When he tired himself out, Hermione took him back to the burrow where she put him to bed and sat with him for the rest of the night.
A year later
He held the razor in his left hand while staring at his right wrist. Pressing the blade to his skin and ran it vertically down his wrist, tracing the delicate blue vein.
Red sticky blood pooled and trickled down his arm, dripping to the floor. It made him feel warm, and he smiled to himself watching it.
Humming, he repeated the process on the other arm. Putting the razor behind him on the counter, he watched the blood pour from his wrists. It was mesmerizing. It felt like he had control of his life again and that he had let a scream that was buried inside his body out, finally letting go.
He looked at the note he had left on the table. It was addressed to his mum. In it he apologized for depriving her of another son, but that she should be happy because he would be reunited with Fred. It explained how he couldn't take another day without his other half and that he would be happier this way.
George was startled by a clatter on the ground. The razor blade that had just been on the counter was now on the other side of his kitchen floor. He tried to reason that he had knocked it onto the floor, yet he knew he hadn't. Then the pots and pans hanging from the ceiling started to rattle, crash and bang. And the cupboards and drawers opened and banged shut. It was pure noise and chaos.
What he had done came crashing down on him. Reality set in and so did the pain. He was losing too much blood. He was panicking, and for some reason apparated to muggle London. He didn't know why, but he stumbled out of an alley and crashed right into a woman wearing white.
"Help," he whispered, showing his wrists. Then he collapsed, splattering blood on her dress.
Before he blacked out, he heard her scream and several shouts. They everything went dark.
George woke up in a stark white room, in an uncomfortable bed, hooked up to a bunch of muggle machines. In the corner, attached to the ceiling was a muggle moving picture box. Harry had called it a TellyVision at one point he thought. He was disoriented, and couldn't remember what had happened.
He looked at his arms and saw that a needle was buried in the crook of his elbow taped down. He followed the tube that was attached to the needle and found a bag hanging from a metal pole. The bag was full of blood. Then he noticed that his wrists were heavily bandaged.
A short, portly, dark-skinned woman in blue came into the room, holding a clipboard.
"Good, you're awake. You lost a lot of blood. My name is Kendra, I am the nurse on duty. You are at Her Majesty's Hospital in the psyche ward. You collapsed on the street yesterday afternoon. We're ruling it as an attempted suicide, unless you convince us otherwise. Do you understand everything I just said?" She chirped.
George nodded his head.
"We didn't know what type of blood you had, so we gave you Type O blood, that's the universal blood in case you didn't know. What is your full name?"
"George Weasley. Where's Fred?" He asked.
"Who is Fred?" She replied, writing on her clipboard.
"He's my twin brother," George paused, "Oh wait. He's dead. Nevermind. I know where he is."
The scratching of her pen against paper stopped for a moment, but then continued.
"George, I need to ask you some questions, they might seem silly, but I have to ask anyway. Have you been hearing voices in your head?"
George shook his head no.
She wrote on her clipboard some more. "When is your birthday?"
"April 1st, 1978."
"Have you tried to kill yourself before?"
"No, this is my first try. But I've thought about it. I've thought about it for a full year. It's been a year and a day since he died. We were supposed to die together. We're twins. We did everything together." George said, tears brimming his eyes.
Kendra's pen stopped scratching. "George, how did your brother die?"
George thought quietly, this wasn't St. Mungos. These muggles didn't know what had happened in England. They didn't know about Voldemort or the Battle of Hogwarts, they didn't know magic existed. He'd have to lie. If there was one thing that George Weasley was good at it was lies. And this one slipped off his tongue easily.
"A maniac set off a bomb, exploding a wall. Fred, the idiot, pushed my prat of a brother out of the way and the wall crushed him instead of Percy. It should have crushed Percy. Percy should have pushed Fred out of the way. I wish Percy had died instead of Fred. I think my mother wishes the same thing on occasion. I know my other brothers and my sister think the same way. We don't look at Percy unless we have to. I think he also wishes he had died instead of Fred." George rambled, his eyes staring blankly at the wall.
The nurse stopped writing and stared at the young man in front of her. His eyes were red, and his cheeks splotchy. He looked broken.
"Fred was my other half. I don't know if I can make it without my other half. We were supposed to die together. Death was going to be our next great adventure that we were going to take in a hundred years." George continued.
Kendra sighed and resumed writing. She had seen a lot of things her 20 years working in the psych ward. A lot of sad, hopeless cases. People who returned time and time again. All for different reasons. But she hadn't had one like George Weasley.
"Was Fred your identical or fraternal twin?"
"We were identical. I can't look into a mirror anymore. I see him staring back at me. Is there a mirror in that bathroom over there? Because I can't look into it." He rattled on.
"I'll get it covered up for you. I have one last question for you, this is a two-part question. What year is it and who is the queen of England?" Kendra asked.
"It is 1999 and I think her name is Elizabeth." George replied.
"Thank you George. Because you tried to kill yourself, we are required by law to keep you here for a week for observation, unless a relative comes to collect you. Do you think we could get a hold of one of your relatives?" Kendra asked softly.
George had a distant look in his eyes. "They're difficult to get in touch with. I'll stay a week unless Hermione figures out where I am."
"Is Hermione your sister?"
"She's my almost sister-in-law. She's the clever one in our group. If anyone can figure out where I am, it's her." He replied.
"What's her last name? I'm going to put her as your emergency contact for if she calls us. That means that we can release information to her, and if she comes, we can release you to her. Do you understand?"
"Hermione Jane Granger. Brightest witch of her age. The brains of the golden trio. Harry Potter might also figure it out. But he's rather dim. I'd expect Hermione to figure it out. If they call, tell them not to tell mum yet. I don't need my entire family in my room and I'll go to them on my own terms." He mumbled.
Kendra let the 'brightest witch of her age' comment roll off. While she was supposed to document everything that was said, this wasn't one of those times. The man was distressed and had lost the most important person in his life. She would let this one slide.
"Thank you, if you need anything, press the button with the person on it. And the remote is connected to your bed as well. I'll come to check in on you soon."
George nodded and laid back down, turning his head away from her.
Kendra shook her head and left the room.
The Weasleys were distressed and panicking. After two days of Weasleys Wizarding Weezes being closed with no sign of George, Molly Weasley forced her way inside the shop and then inside of the flat. That was where they found dried brown blood on the floor and a note on the table.
But no body.
They couldn't find his body, and they didn't know if he was actually dead somewhere unknown or alive and delirious. It could have been a set up by a death eater on the run, or he could have faked his death. They didn't know.
The wizarding world was in an upheaval looking for the missing Weasley. Losing a war hero was terrible and everyone was looking for him. They didn't know why they were looking, because that is a shameful thing to talk about and it wasn't mentioned. But they knew he was missing and possibly in danger.
Hermione was the one who thought of checking the muggle hospitals. She called through every single hospital in the phonebook, starting in London, finally finding one that had a George Weasley admitted for attempted suicide.
They told her that she could come pick him up, but that he couldn't be alone for the next few days and that she wasn't allowed to bring his family because he wasn't ready to see them yet.
Hermione found herself apparating immediately to an alley down the street from the hospital. She marched into the building and was directed to the psych ward on the 9th floor.
She found a short, portly, dark-skinned woman in scrubs with a badge around her neck that said Kendra.
"Hi, I'm here for a George Weasley." Hermione said.
Kendra looked at her, appraising the small, bushy haired woman and huffed, "Are you Miss Hermione Granger? George said you'd be the one to figure out where he was and is expecting you. Come on, he's in the common room."
Kendra led her into the closed off hallway, pushing in a pin number at the door. "Obviously we have to keep the door locked otherwise patients will wander around the hospital. You'll have to find a nurse to let you out when you're ready to leave."
Hermione nodded and followed the woman down the hallway into a bright room that had tables bolted to the floor and plastic chairs. Chess boards were set up, and there were crayons and coloring sheets on some tables. Sad looking patients sat around. Hermione roamed her eyes around the room until she found the familiar shade of red hair and then the familiar face.
"Oh George," she gasped, running to him and hugging him. She grabbed his face in between her hand. "What happened, are you okay? Your mum has been worried sick. Please don't do this again. I will get you muggle help. You need it." She rambled looking him over until she came to his bandaged wrists.
Hermione pulled up a chair and sat down in front of him. She put his hands in her lap. "Did you do this on purpose George?"
He nodded staring into the distance, "It was the strangest thing Hermione. I was ready to go. I was ready to see Fred again. But then something threw my blade across the room, and then my kitchen went to hell and there was so much noise. And then it hurt. And I knew that he didn't want me yet. Somehow, I ended up in muggle London and woke up here. I've been here since then. I actually was waiting for you to figure out where I was. You are the brightest witch of your age."
Hermione sat in silence, starring at his wrists. George followed her gaze.
"I can't look in a mirror without seeing him. And I know mum avoids my face because she sees him. It hurts so much, but there's nothing that I can do about it. It's almost a curse to be a twin right now. He's everywhere I go."
"You know, I was always able to tell you guys apart because you have a tiny scar on your eyebrow where hair doesn't grow. It's not that noticeable, but I noticed it. And then after that, I was able to detect your voice patterns and noticed that you guys have different shaped noses. So, you aren't a clone of him." Hermione whispered, taking his hands into hers and squeezing them.
"You ready to go home George? We can go back to your flat for now if you're not ready to see your mum yet. I'll have to let her know that you're still alive and, but I can hold her off for only a day before she comes breaking down your door again."
George cracked a smile, "Did she really break down my door?"
"She threw a brick at your shop window and climbed in that way. Completely forgot about alohamora, and then she rammed her shoulder into the flat door. She's terrifying when she's scared." Hermione replied, holding back a smile. "You should have seen her throwing the brick. The entire alley had gathered around to watch the scene. Arthur was trying to look as small as possible and Bill was trying his best to reason with her."
George actually smiled, but then he remembered the note. "What happened when she read the note?" he asked quietly.
"She collapsed. I took her back to the burrow while the boys and Ginny searched your apartment. The first place they checked was Fred's room. According to Ginny, it still smells like him you know? In a good way though. It was hard for all of us."
"I haven't opened that door in a year. It hurt too much to see the life in there. It was always closed. I don't think I can ever open it and empty it. Someone else will have to for me."
Hermione nodded, "Understandable. I can do it if you need me to. It'll be hard for the rest of the family, so I can do it."
"Thanks Hermione. So, you haven't told mum yet that I'm alive?" he asked, squeezing her hands.
"No, I came straight here to make sure that you weren't knocking on death's door with a major gunshot wound." Hermione mumbled. "Shall we head home?"
George nodded and stood, followed by Hermione. He led her back to his room, "All I have are my clothes. I left my wand back at my flat."
"I know, we found it in your nightstand drawer."
George grabbed his pants and went into the bathroom. Hermione caught a glimpse of the sheet covering the mirror, and she wanted to hug George again.
He came out a few minutes later wearing his jeans but still had his hospital shirt on. "My shirt is soaked in blood, they washed it, but it stained. I had them throw it away."
Hermione nodded her head. "Come on, let's find a nurse and swim through paperwork."
Four hours later, they were back on the streets in muggle London looking for a safe space to disapparate.
"Hermione, can we get ice cream first? I would just get some in Diagon Alley, but like I said, I'm not ready to deal with wizards just yet."
She nodded and led him to a sweet shop a few blocks over. With a sad look in her eyes, she mumbled, "I used to come here with my mum years ago."
"I never asked, were you able to restore their memories?" He asked.
"No, it was permanent and not even the ministry could help. So I let them be. I check in with them time to time. They had another child. The Australian wizarding community has been watching him for just in case he's also a magical child. He's three and his name is Jason. Jason Earl Granger. He also has curly hair and looks like my dad. He hasn't shown any signs yet, and I'm torn on if I want him to be magical like me or normal. He'd most definitely find out about me, and I look exactly like our mum, so it wouldn't be hard to figure out. And I don't want him to be torn about his parents never remembering me. But on the other hand, I want to get to know him and help him grow up. Whatever happens, it will hurt." She whispered.
"You've been dealing with this all on your own haven't you?" George asked, slipping his hand into hers and offering a small squeeze.
"Yeah. Ron isn't good with that feelings stuff and he wouldn't understand. Not that many people would understand."
"I'm sorry. I wish I could help. But I'm kinda fucked up myself. Just so you know, you have been the strongest of us all. And I never thanked you for sitting with me when Fred was buried. You'll never know how much that meant to me." George said.
"Did Fred ever tell you? He was my first kiss. When Ron yelled at me at the Yule ball, Fred took me away from the stair case and to the astronomy tower. First kiss, under the stars, absolutely perfect. I always had a crush on him." Hermione said dreamily, with a look similar to Luna's.
"Actually, he never told me that," George chuckled, "Guess the prat had some secrets that he kept to himself. Never would have expected that. If you had a crush on him, why are you with Ron? Is it because of convenience?"
"Yeah. I mean I love him, and I can love him romantically, but it almost seems as if it's just what everyone expects of me. And there isn't much I can do to stop it, your mother is already planning our wedding even though Ron hasn't even proposed. Or probably thought about proposing. He is rather thick." Hermione mused.
George laughed for real that time, "Yes, yes he is. You would have been perfect for Fred. Were you going to do anything about your crush when it was all over?"
"Yes, yes I was. We actually had a good snog at Bill and Fleur's wedding. Guess he never told you about that either. But then everything went to hell when the ministry fell obviously and I had to take Harry and Ron out of there." Hermione reminisced.
"Again, that prat never told me about that! How many times have you guys made out?"
"Only a few. Once you guys left Hogwarts, I couldn't see him that much."
"Well, you would have made him happy. I'm sorry for what could have been." George smiled painfully.
"And I'm sorry too. Now, let's get that ice cream and return to reality." Hermione forced out, tears brimming her eyes.
George nodded and they continued to the ice cream shop, and then returned to his flat where Hermione sent a patronus to Molly, letting her know that the George was still alive, and that he would see her tomorrow.
Hermoine stayed with George that night.
He invited her into his bed. They found comfort in each other, even if only for one night.
George never attempted again. Hermione found him a muggle therapist who married a wizard, so she was aware of the wizarding world. Talking helped, and so did a few antidepressants.
Hermione went on to marry Ron. Out of convenience.
They never spoke of that night again.