Making Memories
Upon seeing his lifeless face, a hint of a smile still dancing on his mouth, Mary burst into tears. She knew that George would be feeling so much worse than she could possibly imagine, but the sight of Fred lying there motionlessly still cut her deep. The war may have been over, but the pain would continue until justice was fully served. She couldn't leave him there in the corridor alone—the thought of it made her physically sick, so she pulled herself together enough to grab her wand. After brushing a few strands of ginger hair away from his face she muttered the incantation to lift him into the air and made her way toward the Great Hall, intent on placing him on the Gryffindor table where he belonged.
People were starting to file into the large room, looking haggard and thoroughly roughed up. Some were already crying in small groups, some watched her bring Fred's lifeless form into the hall; some were so engrossed in their own very recent memories that they weren't aware of anything at all going on around them. She carefully lowered Fred to the table, others were bringing bodies in from different parts of the castles, but she couldn't take her eyes off of the man she knew to be so happy to see what other casualties there were.
Mary's eyes were still overflowing uncontrollably as she attempted to remove the smudges of dirt and blood from his very pale face. It wasn't long before members of the Weasley Clan spotted the ginger hair of one of their own and began to congregate around his body, weeping as violently as Mary. If her heart wasn't already broken by the sight of his limp form, the look on Mrs. Weasley's face as she threw herself upon her dead son would have surely shattered it once more. She didn't even dare touch Fred after Mrs. Weasley had wrapped herself around him for fear of being bodily removed.
The male cry from somewhere behind her was heart wrenching and she knew instinctively that George had stumbled upon the scene. He clutched his twin's hand, sobbing even louder than his mother and abusing the pale flesh, determined to wake Fred from his eternal slumber. She finally sank to the floor, taking the risk of being trampled by a dozen or so Weasleys, but not being able to stand any longer. Mary wept until she could weep no more and sat there near the cold table heaving with grief. The Weasleys, especially the twins, had been dear friends for over the entirety of my life. She was a pureblood Ravenclaw student who had grown up on the other side of the hill from the Burrow with her Grandfather and had spent nearly every day of her life that wasn't spent at school in a classroom with one or more of the redheaded Wizarding family. It was hard to believe that one of them was gone. Of course it had been beyond scary finding out that George had lost his ear on a trip to retrieve Harry, but death was far more serious.
After what seemed like hours a pair of strong hands gripped her under her arms and pulled her to her feet. The red-eyed, tear streaked face of Charlie Weasley was telling her to get on her feet. She knew that it was time to leave, but didn't want to be separated from Fred's corpse. It was as though if she left she was accepting that he was really gone. Charlie was much stronger than she was, however, and hoisted her onto her feet, then led her outside. Her grandfather at home when Charlie knocked on the door. He welcomed them inside, wanting to know everything. Charlie didn't say much except that the battle was over and that there had been many casualties, including Fred. He left quickly, desperate to get back to his family, and Mary accepted the condolences of her grandfather before disappearing into her bedroom.
Hours after Charlie had gone; Mary was still lying awake in her bed, staring out the window at the stars. She was drained physically and emotionally, but couldn't her mind refused to rest. She missed Fred terribly already and knew that the pain of his death would not end for a very long time. Unsure of what else to do, she stood up and climbed out of her window and down the lattice, then made her way to the shack where she and the Weasleys had played as children. She closed the door behind her and immediately became aware of the presence of another person in the dark. She quickly pulled out her wand and lit the tip, prepared to fight, but the being didn't move or speak. The light bounced off of long ginger hair and she recognized George's lean frame, curled against the wall on a ragged mattress.
With a sigh of relief she lowered the wand. "George?" her voice was indicative of all the crying she had been doing and she was sure that she looked even worse than she sounded. George did not respond, however. She put the wand away and knelt down on the makeshift bed beside him. "George. I am so sorry." The tears were building up again behind her eyes and she could feel them burning to escape. He heaved, tears pouring down his face, she noticed as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. She lay down beside him, wrapping her arms around him and curling against his back. For several moments he didn't move or speak, and then finally he turned over and started into her chocolate colored eyes with his piercing blue ones and she felt as though she could see into his soul.
"What am I going to do?" he asked, his voice raw with emotion.
"I don't know. God this hurts!" The tears finally spilled over once more and she clung to him as he wrapped his arms around her and they cried for a good hour, before calming down enough to speak again.
"What are you doing here?" he asked. He was at a loss for anything else to say.
"I couldn't sleep. This place reminds me of him, of good times," she managed, biting her lip. He studied her; unsure of which emotions he was feeling exactly, then nodded.
"I don't want to be alone. I can't be with them right now…"he stated, and she assumed he was referring to his family, "But I can't sleep in an empty room, and they all have each other to comfort. They can't think of a way to comfort me." His voice was shaky and she had never heard him speak so seriously about anything. "Stay with me?"
"Of course." They huddled together, silently mourning the loss of a brother and a friend. Sometime near dawn they passed out together, clinging to each other for dear life. They didn't reawaken until noon. Mary awakened first, upon hearing the fighting of two birds outside the open window and after a moment she gently shook George. "Are you ok?" she asked, at a loss for anything else to say.
"What do you think?" he asked. He didn't appear to have rested at all. He sat up reluctantly and she followed suit. It was a moment before either spoke, then George met her dark eyes with his light ones. "There's a bottle of Firewhiskey in that chest by the door, would you bring it to me?" Mary obliged and handed him the unopened bottle before settling down once more beside him on the ragged mattress. He took off the cap and downed a large swig of the stuff inside, then offered her the bottle. She accepted it and they sat for nearly an hour passing the bottle between them, not speaking until the bottle was empty.
George tossed the empty bottle into the corner and resumed his sleeping position, curling into himself. Mary sighed, Fred was really gone and his twin was left to deal with the pain of his loss alone. She turned her head slightly to look at the red haired man and noticed his gentle shaking. She wrapped her arms around him once more and held him until his shaking subsided, her own wet tears staining the back of his shirt.
It was nearly twilight before either of them moved again. This time George sat bolt upright and threw himself toward the window where he heaved uncontrollably, covering the once healthy flower garden outside the window with the contents of his stomach. When he had nothing left inside of him, he slumped to the dirty floor and continued retching while Mary held his hair and tried to soothe him by rubbing circles on his back. "Are you going to leave?" he finally asked, his tired voice muffled by her shoulder.
"Not as long as you're still here," Mary replied, holding him close to her. The pain of losing a friend was nearly unbearable and she couldn't even imagine what George must be feeling at the loss of his brother, his other half. He relaxed into her and let her rock him gently until he was once again asleep and they stayed as such until the sun rose. At dawn she was finally able to get him to move back onto the makeshift bed and they lay still until George once again opened his eyes.
His belly growled in sync with hers and she realized that neither of them had eaten in almost two days. She Accio'ed sandwich material and water from her bedroom as well as a bit of parchment so that she could write a note to her Grandfather and to Mrs. Weasley explaining that she and George were safe. After a bit of food and sending out the mail she put a hand on George's shoulder. He had eaten very slowly and she was afraid that he was upset with her on top of the grief he was dealing with on behalf of his brother's premature death.
"How long do you want to stay?" she asked him.
"Dunno. You can go if you want." He didn't look up and she brushed his hair out of his face and leaned into him.
"I'm not going anywhere without you, George. I just figured you'd want to say goodbye to him at the wake."
He was quiet. "Alright. I…I have to see him again." He finally looked up again and her heart broke into a million pieces once more, his usually dancing eyes were so sad. She helped him to his feet and they walked toward the Burrow silently. It was the longest walk to his house she had ever experienced. When they got in sight of the house he slowed down and took her hand gently into his. She squeezed his encouragingly, silently promising not to leave his side.
When they entered the house Mrs. Weasley scooped them both into a hug, tears streaming down her face. The rest of the Weasley clan, Harry and Hermione sat somberly around the kitchen table and looked up to see George and Mary enter the kitchen, escorted by Mrs. Weasley. "Can't get us mixed up now," George stated, attempting a joke, but the humor was lost to the bitter truth. Mary touched his arm gently and he sat down among his family.
George was informed that they were burying Fred the next morning, following a brief wake. He took the information in and nodded his acknowledgement; no one seemed to know what to talk about until Mrs. Weasley wearily announced that she would start making dinner. Mary left the Burrow at nearly midnight, after most of the family had decided to retire. She walked George up to his bedroom, which Charlie had opted to share with him and said goodnight to him at the door. She put her arms around him and they held each other for a moment before she looked up into his tired, red rimmed eyes and whispered that she was only a heartbeat away, then they disentangled themselves and she turned on the spot, apparating back to her grandfather's house.
The old man was still awake when she appeared in the living room with a loud 'pop.' "I figured you were at the Burrow. I know it must be hard on all of them."
"George especially," Mary agreed, settling down on the long navy blue couch next to his arm chair.
"I won't be surprised when you end up marrying one of those Weasley's," he told her with a slight grin. "George is a strong boy, he'll perk up."
"I know. But right now I'm worried about him. He feels awful and there's nothing I can do." She sighed and her grandfather looked her over.
"Just keep close to him and I'm sure it'll help. He needs someone to hold at night."
"Grandpa! I'm not looking for a husband and he doesn't want someone to take Fred's place…I just wish I could help."
"Believe me, you won't be taking Fred's place, and having a pretty girl around always helps." His eyes twinkled with wisdom and kindness and she finally felt some comfort for her injured heart. Her grandfather could always make her feel better about a situation, no matter how dreary it seemed. She stood tiredly and kissed his forehead.
"I'm going to go to bed, Grandpa, it's been a long week."
"Take a shower first, my little Dragon Tamer, you smell like you slept in that playhouse again." She rolled her eyes and blew him a kiss before ascending the stairs and stripping out of her soiled clothes. She took the shower, as advised, and realized that it helped. Without bothering to put on night clothes, she climbed into bed and fell asleep.
When Mary awakened she realized that someone was in her room and she flung her arm under her pillow in search of her wand. His voice stopped her and she turned slowly toward the newly opened curtains to see George's sad eyes looking at her. Tucking the comforter under her body so as not to expose herself, she motioned him over to sit on the bed with her. "What are you doing here?"
A hint of a grin flashed over his face as he replied. "We used to sneak into this bedroom as kids and tell scary stories at night when your Grandpa wouldn't let you sleep in the playhouse with us. He sat on the edge of the bed near her knees and took a deep breath. "Are you coming to…to…"
"Yes," she replied quickly so he didn't have to use the word 'funeral.' "I wouldn't miss it for all the gold in Gringotts."
"Thanks. I…Fred would have wanted you there. Besides, I dunno if I could go alone. I know this is sort of strange, but having you near me is comforting…it's like I can start to see something…besides him."
"George, that's the sweetest thing I think you've ever said." She smiled gently, "Anytime you want some comfort, come find me."
"I can't sleep," he admitted sheepishly. "I was kind of wondering if you would mind me staying here."
"Of course not," she said, moving over to allow him room to get into her large bed. Before he could start to move into the bed, however, she realized that she was naked and told him to freeze.
"What's wrong?" he asked, concerned.
"Well…I didn't put anything on after I got out of the shower," she told him, blushing furiously. His eyes sparked at that statement and she saw a glimpse of the old George again.
"So you're completely nude?" he asked, grinning.
"Yes, would you mind stepping into the bathroom while I put pajamas on?"
"Merlin's Pants! Mary is naked! With a Weasley! This is amazing!!!" He laughed as she glared at him.
"Don't make me regret not pulling out my wand George Weasley!" she threatened. He sighed and did as she asked, and when she was sure he had closed the bathroom door that was adjoining to her room, she got up and pulled on a camisole and pajama pants. He came out of the bathroom suspiciously soon after she had her clothes on, but she didn't want to ask about whether he had spied on her, so she followed him over to the bed. The two climbed under the comforter and George wrapped an arm around Mary, pulling her closer. Soon they had both fallen asleep.