love rom elyssium here. I haven't posted anything in a while so it's nice to be back! Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading.
Fix You
And the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace
When you love someone, but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
"George."
He walks away, looks back at you, and walks. You try to remember why you called him because you didn't want it to play out like this. Because he knows that you're trying to come up with the words that sound more heartfelt, more meaningful than everyone else's, just like everyone else.
"I'm sorry for your loss," you say.
He nods. You know he's thinking that he knew it wouldn't be good but he didn't expect it to be this bad.
You slide your hand down the inside of his arm until you fit it into his rough hand, your fingers between his. He squeezes your hand tightly until it hurts and you're thankful that he doesn't relax his grip. Because somehow, his grip on your hand is the most he's said to anyone all day.
You lean into his side, your chin on his shoulder. With your body against his you can feel the uneven rising and falling of his chest. And you know this is his agony, this is his hell. You know you can take a lot from him. Anything, but this. George is selfless in a way you've only ever seen in one other. That other, you will never see again. That other is dead. So you hold this one closer to your body because you know there is no way in hell that you would survive if you lost him too.
And then he starts to sob. It startles you but you immediately take your hand from his and wrap your arms around his neck, your face in his shoulder and one hand in his hair. He's crying into your shoulder uncontrollably and the black fabric of your dress is soaking up the tears. You realize that this is the first time he's really cried. And that makes you start to bawl too.
He starts running his hands up and down you back, fingers light. One of his warm hands on the small of your back. Horrified, you realize he's consoling you. You panic for a moment knowing that it should be the other way around. But then it flows through you that, for George, comforting you was his way of comforting himself. George is the person who has to be there for you first and himself second.
You stood there holding him until the end of the funeral reception. How long that was, you wouldn't be able to say. As the people started to trickle out of the Hogwarts grounds where the burial had been you realize you have to let him go. Have to, but don't want to. Not ever. But, you know that when you look up and see Molly Weasley looking back at you and him it's time.
He seems to sense it too. He lift his head off your shoulder and looks right into your eyes which you imagine are probably just as swollen as his. You lift your face and gently press your lips to his temple for a long moment. When you pull away his eyes thank you in a way he wouldn't be able to with words.
"I love you," you say slowly with a broken voice empathizing each word. "And he did too."
And then you see the tears well up and spill over. You know he believes you. You put your hands on either of his cheeks and wipe away the stream of tears with your thumbs.
After taking another few greedy moments you summon the courage to say, "Your mum is waiting to take you home. She's worried stiff for you."
You can't manage anymore. You pull out of the embrace slowly before your courage fails you, trailing your hands along his arms until you reach either of his hands with which you intertwine your fingers. Then, you lean in and kiss those full Weasley lips. He kisses you back more actively than you had anticipated but gently none the less. When you pull away you smile slightly because there's a bit more colour in his face now but he still looks terribly sad. The expression makes you lean in one last time and kiss the bridge of his noise with slightly parted lips.
He clears his throat. "Thank you, Angelina."
You squeeze your eyes shut at the sound of his heartbroken voice and open them again with tears clinging to your lashes.
"I could never be as strong as you," you murmur.
"Angel, you're the strongest person I know," he says back equally soft.
"George?" Arthur Weasley calls cautiously with his arm around his wife.
"You have to go." He looks at his feet. "Don't worry, I'll see you again soon, love," you insist.
He nods and your hands come apart. You watch him walk slowly through the wet grass towards his parents.
"Coming Ginny?" Arthur calls to his daughter in the arms of Harry.
"Go on," she says, "I'll disapparate with Harry in a minute."
Arthur nods as he turns on the spot just outside the Hogwarts gate and disappears with a crack followed George and Molly as soon as they too reach the gate's outer side.
When you look away from the spot where he just disappeared you see Ginny walking towards you, her hair trailing behind her like a flame. When she reaches you, you embrace each other tightly.
"Angelina!"
You see shes been crying hard. All the years you've known her you only ever once saw her cry. She's strong like her brothers.
"Angelina, I can't thank you enough for what you've done for my brother. George is hurting the most and," her voice was starting to shake and the tears starting to pour, "It means the world. So thank you."
"Ginny, honey, don't thank me," you say, hicupping through your own tears. "You don't have to thank me. I needed that too."
She nods sadly and takes a deep, ragged breath. "If I could ask one thing of you, Angelina, I'd be forever grateful."
"Anything," you say.
"Come and stay with him tonight."
When she said it her voice sounded so pleading, so desperate that the pieces of your heart shattered to dust.
"Ginny I don't know if that's a good idea. He needs time alone."
She shakes her head vigorously. "No, I swear to you, he needs you. He's been a wreck. Please Ange!"
"I don't know, Ginny." You pause. "If you're sure that's what's best for him, I will."
"Thank you," Ginny said, voice saturated with gratitude. She hugs you tightly once more.
The door creaks lowly as you push open the door and shut it quietly as you can behind you. He's lying on his stomach on top of his bed with his face in the pillow. You creep over quietly and lay down beside him. He turns his head from the pillow to look at you.
"Angelina?"
"Hi, love."
He immediately takes you into his arms, holding you tightly against his body.
"I thought you were Ginny," he said sounding muffled with his face in your hair. "Why did you come?"
"Because Ginny told me you would need me," and then even softer you say, "And because I need you."
He pulled her even closer and tangled their legs together. He was crying again though you don't know if he ever even stopped. Then he rolls you onto the other side of the bed so your back is up against the wall.
"Sorry," he mumbles. "I hate having to look at his bed."
You force your eyes from looking over to where you know his bed is, forever made. Instead you lay your head on his chest and close your eyes.
Some time later you hear a light knock on the door. You look up as Ginny lets herself in shyly.
"Mum's wondering if you will come down for supper," she says mostly to George.
He looks at you as he answers. "Thank you, Gin. Tell mum we'll be there in a minute."
She nods and quickly leaves the room shutting the door. George squeezes his eyes shut.
"I can't do this," he says. "I don't think I can keep it together for the whole time."
"All you can do is your best. No one is going to blame you for being upset." You stand up and hold out your hands. "Come on."
He sighs and you pull him in. Your arms slither around one of him sculpted ones. On the ground level there's a throng of people scurrying around the kitchen trying to be helpful. They all try to be politely discreet in their gaze as you come down the last steps and head out the side door to the table. Harry and Ginny are setting the cutlery by hand to the mix matched tables and chairs. Charlie comes out with a steaming porcelain bowl of peas.
"Give peas a chance, Ginny," Charlie said with a soft smile on his face.
Ginny bust out a laugh which turned into a sob. Harry was there in an instant holding her against his chest.
"When I was little," she sniffled, "Mum for the life of her could not get me to eat my peas. So Fred sat down beside me one night at supper and said "Just like peace, you have to give peas chance, Ginny". He eventually got me to eat them."
"Mum was thrilled," Charlie said quietly.
That night at dinner it was very trying for everyone. No one could take any more of the sad atmosphere from the day and tried awkwardly to be light in their conversations. You noticed that Ginny took a rather large portion of peas and ate every last one unlike the rest on her plate. It also made you smile to see her hand tightly holding Harry's under the table. In the middle of the meal Fleur had to excuse herself and Bill followed her into the house. Five minutes later they make back out, Fleur composed once more. This however did not stop Molly from sobbing outwardly and sloshing a large dose of brandy into a glass.
But all that was almost through with. The meal was finished now and Percy was helping Bill clear the table. You look up at George and put your hand on his leg. He doesn't seem too bad, considering. You watch Ginny sit Harry's lap and once again put her head in his chest. He kisses her hair. She pulls his mouth down to his and kisses him intensely. After a couple more seconds she's straddling him in the chair and you find yourself thinking it's a good thing you and George are the only ones left at the table. Ginny lets a moan escape her lips.
"I think we should go upstairs, Love," Harry says in her ear and you're glad someone decided to use some discretion because you didn't really want to witness Harry take her on the table. They head inside quickly.
You look at George and he's looking at you with a raise eyebrow and a ghost of a smile on his face. The longer you look at each other the more his grin seems to solidify. And then you both start to giggle and it's as if an unbearable weight has been lifted from you while you laugh. Suddenly you lungs are getting a proper amount oxygen again. And to see him smile again! It's like seeing life. It's like finding hope. If only Ginny knew that her sexual display at the table was the one thing that they had needed the most.
But the spark doesn't last. It's as if the shell's been cracked but not removed.
You are lying on your back next to him with one arm flopped above your head on the pillow. It's now late and you've been talking on and off for hours. You're happy that things have gotten, well, better. It's hard to notice the agony lifting, but as you look back on the day George is certainly improved from this morning. And so are you.
You turn your head to the left to see his face relaxed and eyes closed. You brush his arm lightly with the tips of your fingers and see his eyes flutter open. Wide blue eyes seep into your own.
"It's late."
"We can still talk," he says stroking his thumb on the top of your hand.
"I'm not going to disappear, love. I'll still be here in the morning." And you adore the way his eyes seem to smile at the reminder.
"Should get changed out of these clothes. I do hate dresses to be honest," you say pulling at the black fabric. He pulls you closer to him by your waist. "I could go ask Ginny to borrow something. I'm only a couple inches taller."
"That I wouldn't advise," he says smiling. His face close to yours. You raise an eyebrow slightly.
"Why not?" He leans over to whisper in your ear.
"Well, considering their behaviour at the table after dinner, Angel, I would say it's likely they're making love at the moment."
"Ah." You can feel your cheeks burning and you're thankful the blush won't show on your dark skin. He laughs lightly.
"They love each other, Angelina," he says, his voice a low rumble. "You should see the way he looks at her, the way he holds her. It's like nothing I've ever seen before."
He looks at your expression and smiles. Leaning in, he pulls on your earlobe lightly with his teeth. "I know they're young but they've been through a lot."
You just nod. George climbs out of bed for a moment and comes back with a pair of boxers and an old t-shirt.
"Here, you can wear these if you like," he says handing them to you. You nod.
"I'll let you get changed." He leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.
You unzip your dress and let it fall in a heap at your feet. You can feel your breasts are tender. A thrill goes through your body as you realize how aroused he's made you by the simplest touches. Slipping the faded shirt on, you force you mind from pursuing the topic.
After you're dressed you go over to the open window and hang out of the sill. There's something refreshing about night air on your skin. It relaxes your body and you drift into a meditative state until arms encircle your stomach. He curls his body around yours with his chin on your shoulder so he can see out the window as well. And you know, little by little, he's fixing you.
The beams of light make your eyelashes flutter as you wake. You don't see him but you can feel his warmth in the bed beside you. He puts his face in your neck and kisses you in a way that makes you understand why you have to keeping fighting.
And time goes by. Not quickly but not slowly either. You are with him nearly all the time and at his family's home. He's knows it would not be fair to them to leave yet and he seems content all the same. A week since the funeral has gone by, and then another, and then another. During the days you've spent together you have been getting the joke shop running again. A couple days before he's planned to officially reopen it he moves back into the apartment above it. Some traces of Fred have been removed like his bed, his trunk and his clothes but that does nothing for the presence that still hangs over the place. Which you know is good for George because he needs something to hang onto. He can't forget.
Now, he sits across the couch from you reading in a rich, glowing voice like warm honey. You've just had dinner in a small restaurant on some side street off of Diagon Ally. It was good, you think, because to be honest you can't really remember what you even ordered. All you can call to mind is how he watched you the whole time. The light in his eyes said something in between disbelief, elation and confusion. That look made you see a future you'd never imagined before. A future that involved growing old and children, but most of all him.
As he reads to you now you're not really thinking about the words as you are his voice and that thought you had about the future. Would it be possible? Maybe. It seemed like perhaps it could be, though if you had thought about this a couple weeks ago you would have certainly deemed the idea mental. Now you're not sure.
"Angel." You look up and he's staring at you. You can feel your cheeks glowing.
"I love you," he says, still holding the book in his lap.
You don't say anything but continue to look at him.
"And I was wondering if maybe one day that might be enough."
Your chest collapses. Your lungs are fighting to do their job. Your heart is knocking to get out.
"George. You set me on fire just by looking at me. You titillate me with the slightest of touches. But most of all you've been fixing me. You've been picking up my pieces since the moment my world was shattered, when he died. When I should have been the one patching you up, I was the one in repair. That wasn't fair of me."
"Angelina, don't you see that was exactly what I needed? I needed you, I need you. And how could I have you if you were broken? I need to be the one who takes care you, not the other way around. That's what's fixing me. That's what started helping me the moment I promised myself that I will try to fix you. That's all I need and I know it can work because I've seen it. I've seen it happen with Ginny and Harry." He put the book down.
"Angel, I've never been so in love until you came around. But, I know you were in love with Fred. So, I need to know that when you look at me it's me you see and not him."
When you speak, you speak slowly trying to pull the words together before it gets too much and talking at all is impossible.
"When I look at you, George, I see your brother. His smile, his heart, his understanding, his soul. I don't think of you as Fred, though. Yes, he left a mark on you and it shows in everything you are. But, you're not Fred, you are George. I loved your brother with every inch of me and maybe if things had been different I would have fallen in love with him, too. But you're the one I fell in love with. You, too, I love with every bit of me. You help me remember him, but you also help me forget.
"Sometimes I can see our future in my mind and it gives me hope and strength like you wouldn't believe. I want you, every bit of you."
And then he brought himself down on you pulling you down across the sofa. His hands raced up the sides of your body under your shirt making your breath catch in your throat the whole way along. His legs are on either side of your hips supporting him as he draws his lips along your jaw. You take both of his wrists in your hands and guide under the cups of your bra. Moaning at the feel of his fingers on your hard nipples that are tingling sharply. More than anything you need him against you so you wrap your arms around his waist and pull him down harshly on top of you. His hardness is pressing against your thigh.
Then he scoops you up and takes you down the hall to the bedroom where he lets you fall lightly onto the bed. In that instant you yank off your shirt while he straddles you. Pulling off his own over his head and arms, he then undoes the clasp at the back of you bra and flings it aside. You hug him tightly against you. Warm skin on skin is making him give low drawn moans. You sit back in the sheets dragging him down with you. His mouth is on yours, moving with you none too gently. He's sucking your bottom lip before trailing along your chin, throat, and chest in between your breasts. Instinct draws your hands quickly to his head making him stop there and you direct his lips to your breast. He sucks the skin and breaths warm air that prickles your skin, teeth grazing your nipple. He continues down the plains of your chest to the top of your jeans, burying his face into the sensitive skin of your stomach which makes you squirm with pleasure. He's unbuttoning them painfully slow, just teasing you.
"Ughh, George you're killing me!" she moaned. He laughed lowly. He's removed your jeans all the way now, dragging his hands down her legs. But still you're wearing lacy blue underwear. He lowered it slowly from your right hip and settles a slow, warm kiss on the inside of your hip before replacing the underwear over the area. The tension makes you want to scream, and you don't think your body can handle anymore anticipation.
"George, if you don't bloody take me right this bloody second I'm going to explode!" you shriek.
"But I love messing around with you, Angel." All the same he kicks off his pants and enters you.
From the moment you wake up the next morning with the sun across your face from the crack in the curtains and your body aching, time seems to lurch forward at what most of the time seems like a frightening rate, others times a nice one. Months pass, then years, then more years and eventually decades are gone in the blink of an eye. But not yet because for now you're going to lie in his arms and count the seconds knowing that each one is a step towards repair. One day though, after all those decades finally squeezed by you'll think back to this moment and know that he fixed you.
Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try
to fix you
Song lyrics taken from Coldplay's Fix You. Thus, the title and inspiration for this one shot. Hope you liked it! Reviews and critism would make my day.
~ love from elyssium