AN: Well, hello there. This is my first fic posted for the better part of the year, so let's see how things have changed. This isn't twincest or anything of the sort, just a story of how George felt during his brother's funeral. In fact, this is something of a test. I'm currently writing a very large fic about NextGen HP, so I posted this to get a feedback on my writing style. Thank you so much, and enjoy.
Red skies seemed to fit the mood of the graveyard.
I've never been to one, but I was told in the Wizarding World, funerals were not very different from those in the Muggle World. There is a memorial service. People speak on the behalf of the dead. They are put into the ground. People walk away, never to see the body ever again. It could take a few hours. Some may run longer than others.
But this one was no normal funeral. We aren't spend a few hours mourning the loss - or 'celebrating the life' - of one man who died tragically. To be honest, I couldn't tell you how many we are honoring today alone, but the final toll could have gone to the hundreds.
Many people gave their lives for this war. Many people died fighting for their freedom. Many people were slaughtered not for their freedom, but for the freedom of others.
Today, we were to honor them in a mass funeral. However, I can't help but feel just a little guilty, for I am only thinking of one person.
Standing on the edge of the Palisades' Cliffs
In the shadow of the skyline
Very far away
Like a lightning rod
That couldn't pull the storm from me
His body is still above ground. I didn't take my eyes of him, but I'm willing to bet that everyone else's have been safely buried. The sun was almost down, which meant that I could have been staring at my dead brother for over 4 hours.
The mass funeral was somewhat divided. At 11 am, everyone mourning the loss of their loved ones - whomever they may be - were all gathered and was addressed by Kingsley Shacklebolt. He made a very nice speech, which subsequently made many people break out in tears.
I didn't, because I fear I may have no tears left to shed.
When it came time to divide the people to attend different burials, I immediately went to my brother's casket, even though there was still an hour before his unique service.
Everyone else in my group went to the burial of Tonks and Remus first. Harry made a speech - or so I heard. I just stared at my brother so close to the casket I was almost touching it, and I stayed their even when his personal service arrived.
I was 5 years old
My best friend's older brother died
He fell from these cliffs
The river washed him away
The current pulled him downstream
And our lives float in the headlines
People tried to tell me to sit down while a few wanted to say something in honor of him, but I ignored them. They finally buggered off and made on with their service: I stayed and held my own.
I knew Ron was supposed to speak on Fred's behalf. My intent was to turn my attention towards him when it was his time to speak. However, the promised speech never came.
When he was called up to address our rather large audience, I could hear from a distance that he was throwing a fit. He was hysterical. I didn't see him, but I could hear in his voice that he was so overwhelmed with sadness, it quickly progressed to anger. It is a pretty common trait amongst Weasleys: he cried all of his sad tears away, now he was good and pissed off over the whole ordeal.
I smiled to myself when I heard his screams. That may have been a little sadistic of me, but somehow, his overwhelming case of emotion made reinforced my already-aware beliefs.
Fred Weasley was loved.
So we park these cars
In our parent's garage
Listen to the lullaby
Of carbon monoxide
And now, here I am. My eyes were still glued to the lifeless corpse that used to be my other half. My mum and dad both has tried to pull me away, but I didn't let them. They both told me it was time to go, but I just responded: "Then go."
They didn't. They were still 30 or 40 feet behind me. Everyone was; everyone important anyway. My mum. My dad. My 2 sisters. My 5 remaining brothers. Lee Jordan. Kingsley Shacklebolt. Rubeus Hagrid, and maybe a few others.
I don't know how long their planning on waiting for me, but now that the sun had almost set, I don't expect it to be much longer now.
I don't think about it for too long. I just think about what Fred would be doing had he not been in that casket. I just ponder what he would do or say if he was standing next to me right now.
"Look at that. Even when I'm dead, I still look quite fit."
If the sun doesn't rise
We'll replace it with an H-bomb explosion
A painted jail cell of light in the sky
Like three-mile-island nightmares on TVs that sing us to sleep
They burn on and on like an oil field
Or a memory of what it felt like
I suppose I should be surprised, seeing him there standing right next to me wearing dress clothes and a long black coat - the exact same thing I was wearing. The only real difference in his appearance was the fact that he has two ears.
When I look towards him, he gives me the Weasley-twin trademark smirk that he and I had made so famous during our years in Hogwarts. I just scoff at him.
"You think so?" I ask him as I turn my attention to the lifeless body in the casket. "You know I don't condone men in makeup, but you could use some cover up on your scratches."
"Battle scars, brother," He insists with a ring in his voice. "Girls can't get enough of them. Not even where I am."
I smile without turning my attention off the corpse.
To burn on and on and not just fade away
All those nights in the basement
The kids are still screaming
"On and on and on and on…"
"Your being treated well, then?" I ask as I take a quick glance at his lively self.
"Oh, sure," he exhales casually. "It's a regular party up there. Especially for us war heroes."
I don't react to his comment as I might have. I just continue to stare at the casket as I feel the smirk quickly leaving my face.
"What's with the long face, brother?" Fred asks rather quickly after giving me a nudge on my shoulder. "Your alive, aren't you? Be happy about that."
"And yet," I begin, still staring at the casket. "Somehow I just can't."
"Oh, why are you acting so grim?" he asks in a voice that demanded my attention. "I died. So what?"
"'So what', he says," I say softly as I turn to face him. "I imagine that your having the time of your afterlife up there, but did you ever stop to think about the ones you left behind?"
Fred doesn't answer. He takes a deep breath and turns to look behind us. I follow in his lead.
War all of the time
In the shadow of a New York skyline
We grew up too fast
Falling apart
Like the ashes of American flags
"Not much thinking is required," he admits in a soft voice as he and I stare at our loved ones. "Can't stand the look on mum's face. Or dad's. Or anyone's. Especially the littlest one. I think I pissed her off something awful going out the way I did."
I remain quiet as I focus on Ginny. She wasn't quite crying anymore, yet she still has a look of despair in her face. In fact, she looks somewhat angry - again, a Weasley trademark. I see Harry's right hand wrapped around her as he uses his hand to rub softly against Ginny's shoulder.
"Yeah," I say as we continue to gaze. "She's not happy one bit, is she?"
"I'm not too worried though," Fred says in a rather chipper tone as we both turn our attention towards the casket. "It would seem that the boy-who-kicked-arse is plenty company for her."
I nod and smirk. There is a silence between to two of us. I glance back at him just to make sure he's still there, and softly thank God that he is.
"He blames himself you know," I say, as if I am desperate to break the silence.
"Ah," he begins without surprise. "I figured that much. He always did that, didn't he? Blaming himself even if he did save the bloody world."
I look towards him with a confident smile, as if he had just said something funny. He raises his eyebrow.
"What?" he asks, looking quite dumbfounded.
"You're right," I say with my smile slowly disappearing. "But I wasn't talking about Harry."
And we're blowing in the wind
We don't know where to land
So we kiss like little kids
I turn my attention - once again - back to the casket and I noticed Fred's dumbfounded look intensified. He quickly shoots his head backward, looking back to our family and friends once again. This time, I don't follow in his lead.
"Where is he?" he asks me as he continues to search amongst the people.
"Not sure," I admit as I focus on his casket while he continues to search. "He wanted to make a eulogy for you."
He turns to look at me.
"He didn't," he states, even though I am quite aware of that.
"He couldn't," I inform as my focus turns back to him. "He got pretty violent during the service. He simply couldn't be in the same area."
Fred turns toward the almost-blackened sky and heavily sighs. He feels guilty; I could tell.
"He always was our favorite," he says softly.
"Yeah."
"Even thought we hardly ever made him feel like it."
"Yeah."
"Everyone else is here," he says to me without looking back. "Is he having an episode all by himself?"
"Everyone is here?" I ask him with my eyebrow raised. "Count again."
We used to be very tall buildings
We've been falling for so long
Now your eyes are a sign on the edge of town
They offer a welcome
When you are leaving
He turns around once again, and I once again don't follow. I continued to look at the casket like I have been doing for so many hours. I feel his head turn towards me once again.
"Ah," he exhales, and I presume it's after realizing who else was not behind us. "So it's finally happened."
I smile. He realized that Ron wasn't alone. More importantly, he realized who he was not-being-alone with.
"Couldn't come at a better time, if you ask me," he continues with a light-hearted tone in his voice. "Looks like he's finally going to get the undivided attention he's always dreamed of."
I don't react to his statement, with the exception of closing my eyes. I can't help but think about my twin's previous statement. It was true; he was the youngest brother in the family, and the older brother to the first girl a Weasley had popped out in generations.
It was never a good deal for him, growing up. He got all the hand-me-downs - that may have been in our family for over 10 years - as the youngest always got new clothes when she needed them. Whenever Ron would do something, he would get a small applause and maybe a pat on the back. If Ginny were to do the very same thing, she would have gotten a standing elevation.
Fred and I never really realized this growing up. In fact, we didn't really come to grips with it until Ron came home unexpectedly just weeks before the Battle for Hogwarts.
"You need to look out for him," Fred tells me with a subtle, yet grave tone. "You know that."
"Yes," I tell him softly "But…"
I trail off. I know what I want to say, but this hardly seems like the time to say it. It's a very selfish statement.
"Spit it out, Forge," he tells me in a sing-song tone.
I smile once again, for I know he will bug me until say it.
"It just seems like everyone has someone," I say as I gaze towards him once again. "Mum has dad. Ginny has Harry. Bill has Fleur. Ron has Hermione. Even Charlie and Percy are talking."
Fred scoffs.
"Charlie always was a great-big softy, wasn't he?" he asks rhetorically. "But hey, a little alone time might do you good."
My smile completely disappears and is replaced with a frown.
"I don't know how to be alone."
Fred sighs at my comment as I turn to his casket yet again.
"I suppose now is a good time to learn," he says, reviving his chipper tone. "Real life is here. You're not going to be able to have someone by your side all the time, you know."
"No, I don't know," I admit to him. "At least I didn't."
He sighs again.
"Hey," he speaks up. "Quit worrying about it, alright? You got a brilliant life ahead of you, you know."
I chuckle a little bit just before noticing the seriousness in his face.
"Do I?" I ask.
"Oh, absolutely," he responds rather simply.
"How are you so sure?"
I ask the question so quickly, it seems like it caught him off guard. He looks at me one more time and gives me a very confident smile.
"Because you're my twin brother."
War all of the time
In the shadow of the New York skyline
We grew up too fast
Falling apart
Like the ashes of American flags
I decide not to meet that statement with a response. In these past few days, that last thing I thought about was my future. How could I? Fred and I made huge plans for the store; not to mention the fact that he probably had ideas that he never let me in on.
I can't help but wonder if he actually knows. What if he knows everything that's going to happen to me in my future? What if he knows whether or not I will reopen the shop? If it becomes successful? If I marry? If I have children? When I join him?
Maybe it's better if I don't ask.
"By the way," he interrupts my trail of thought. "You can take the ear if you want. I won't have much use with it."
He makes a gesture towards his dead body lying in the casket. I once again notice that he has both of his ears safely attached to his head. All I can do is laugh.
"Battle scars, brother," I tell him with a wink.
He laughs. We both do. Something we haven't done in way too long (1 day would be too long as it is). People watching might be thinking that I'm finally diving into insanity. They might be right.
Our laughter slowly dies down until we are both silent. The happiness slowly melts away like ice cubes on a hot, sunny day. My thoughts once again crawls towards sadness before he speaks.
"Oh," he says, once again breaking my trail of thought. "Do me one favor. Be sure to say 'hi' to Angelina, for me."
The pieces fall it's like a last day parade
And the fires in our streets start to rage
So wave to those people who long to wave back
From the fabric of a flag that sang "love all of the time"
I give him a look of confusion as he stares into the dark blue sky.
"Angelina?" I ask him dumbfounded.
He doesn't answer me. He just stares at the night sky with a smirk on his face. The confident smirk he always had every time he gave Ron a blood pop. Or every time the pair of us would get away with something that mum would have surely killed us over.
I turn my attention once again to the casket just before he speaks.
"You know," he says with a soft voice. A voice that was almost unrecognizable. "There's one major thing I'm missing out on. Being dead, and all."
"What's that?" I ask him as I glance his way once again. His attention is still on the dark skies.
"Eh," he said, reviving the tone we became famous for. "I don't need to bore you with more sob stories. Besides…"
He pauses as he takes a deep breath.
"He needs you now."
"Who?" I ask him.
He doesn't respond.
I towards him to ask repeat my question, but I freeze.
He is no longer there.
War all the time
War all the time
War all the time
All of the time
Suddenly, I'm taken back to the moment I found out that he died. That cold feeling in the depths of my stomach. My eyes becoming uncontrollably damp. Air like knives in my lungs. Only this time, I contained myself much better: I had always knew his visit from beyond was way too good to be true.
I suddenly hear footsteps to my side. I quickly turn to see who has stepped right besides me.
I had just realized how tall he is. We could stand face to face after 18 years of him always being a head or two shorter of me. His eyes were red and damp. He hasn't spoken more than a word to me since the battle; I believe we both were to afraid to.
I look behind him and fix my eyes on another member of my family. She had been crying to, but not nearly as much as she had. I want to smile, but I don't let myself. The brightest witch of their age, and my little brother somehow had snagged her.
Fate is a funny thing, isn't it?
War all the time
War all the time
War all the time
"I'm sorry," he says softly.
I turn to look at him, but his eyes were fixed on the casket. He takes a deep breath as his upper lip quivers a bit, obviously fighting off more tears.
"For buggering out earlier," he finally clarifies, eyes still fixed to the casket. "You deserved better."
In the brink of all this madness, I have it a hard time figuring out if he was apologizing to me or our fallen brother. Still looking at him, I smile. I realize that it didn't matter who he was apologizing to.
I place a firm gloved hand on his shoulder and gripped it tightly as I turned my attention to the casket one more time. We watched the immobile body for what seemed like eternity before I say something.
I make sure I said it in a strong voice, for I believe it with all of my heart.
All of the time.
"He understands."
AN: Alright then, did you enjoy? The song featured in this fic is "War All The Time", by Thursday. Excellent song and album, check it out if you havent already. PLEASE REVIEW and keep an eye out for my forthcoming NextGen fic. Thanks again!