George continued on through the halls, the echoing of his shoes the only sound that could be heard reverberating off the wall. It was actually pretty relaxing. Everything felt normal to him, in this state. Which was rather strange considering a good chunk of the castle was still destroyed, parts still wanting to crumble around him.
A hoot sounded behind him, and George spun around in time to see two figures fly by him, supported by brooms.
"Let's show these Death Eaters why we're the best Beaters this school's ever seen." Fred's voice echoed in his head.
George smiled. "Yea." He took off after the two figures, a sense of glee swelling in his chest. Even though he couldn't catch them, his mind seemed to fast forward to see himself and Fred zoom out of the castle, whacking enemies with their clubs as they went along. They shot spells off, when it was necessary, but it was far more fun to hit people. Maybe a little more gratifying than it really should have been.
The dark sky did well enough to shadow them, but some Death Eaters eventually began to get annoyed with their antics, and started shooting spells off to dismount the two brothers. They split off from each other to avoid an array of spells. George's eyes seemed to split to watch both the Death Eaters and Fred. After all this time, it was almost a instinctual reaction.
A red jet of light shot up and hit the club in Fred's hand, dissolving it instantly. Fred's wand hand reacted immediately to stun the offending Death Eater.
George was jerked out of his mind-set by something hitting the front of his broom. The tip veered upwards, nearly knocking him off, as another jet flew right for him.
"PROTEGO!" He heard Fred cry, and the spell stopped just short of hitting him.
George flipped the broom around, and managed to maintain his altitude, his heart pounding with the sudden upheaval.
"George, you ok?" Fred started to make his way over, when a large hand snapped up and seized him around the legs, crushing the broom into his thighs. He shouted, firing off a stinger into the giants eye. The spell had little if no effect on the giant, except to make him (or her, it's difficult to tell) angrier. The giant added it's second hand to the fist, and squeezed harder. Fred screamed, but George was already full tilt toward them. He drew his arm back, and flung the club at the beast as hard as he could. Which, factoring the strength he had gained in his arm after playing Quidditch for so long, was pretty hard. The club slammed into the side of the giants head, not knocking it fully over, but enough to snap it's head to the side. It's grip loosened, and Fred fell through his fingers. George zoomed over, catching his twin a little ways down.
George could feel Fred's head resting against his shoulder. A sense of dread broke through him. "Say something."
"Something." Fred snarked.
George laughed lightly, flying up for the nearest opening he could find to the castle. "What have I told you about being careful?"
"Like you're one to talk."
George made it up to the Astronomy Tower in time to see the two figures land. He saw Fred stumble a bit, when he climbed off the broom. His legs were weak, and George made forward to help him.
He clapped a hand on Fred's shoulder. "Perhaps we should keep our feet on the ground for a while."
"Yea, sure."
The brief moment of peace was broken up by a large shock-wave. Fred slammed against one of the turrets, but George tumbled over the side. He managed to catch himself, hearing something shatter as a sharp pain piercing his arm from his full weight hitting the joint. His head thrown into a haze, he caught a quick glimpse of his wand disappearing into the dark ground below.
"George!" Fred's voice carried over the side, causing George to look upwards. "I'm here."
Fred's head snapped over the side. He looked panicked, but George was too relieved to let the panic carry to him. "I dropped my wand."
"I don't care." Fred leaned over the side, reaching a hand down to him. "Grab my hand."
George was a little ways down the side. He had to pull up on his sore arm to reach his twin's hand, but he grasped for him, their fingers latching just enough to pull their grasps fully together.
George had just let go of the wall, when he felt his hand slip from his brother's grip. Someone had cried, "Crucio." And Fred started screaming, no longer able to keep hold of George's hand.
A moments hesitation, where everything seemed to stop, and George started to fall. The rush of falling, of not knowing where or what he was going to land into, made his heart race again. George fished around in his pockets, pulling out a wand. He wasn't sure where it came from, but it didn't matter all that much, at the moment. Pointing the wand at himself, George shouted, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The spell didn't always work on humans, but his clothes were another matter, and it was far easier to control than Aresto Momentum. The sky around him slowly started to grow lighter, as his robe seemed to cradle his body and lower him to the ground.
George landed, panting for a moment, his arm coming up to rest against his sore shoulder. It felt like it had slipped out of place, but considering he could still move it, there wasn't as much call to think it had.
Gingerly, George got to his feet, staring down at the cool green grass bend in the gentle wind. He felt confused. A little dizzy about what was happening. A scream broke his train of thought, and George's head snapped up towards the top of the tower in a panic. Clouds swirled back around the sky, shadowing the tower in a dark haze. "Fred."
"George!" Someone broke in at his side, throwing their arms around him. George vaguely registered who it was, before shoving her off and taking off at a dead run, back into the castle.
"George? George, where are you going?"
"I have to get to the Astronomy Tower."
There was a rapid click of heels behind him, indicating that she was following him. "What for?"
"Fred's in trouble. I have to get back up there." His urgency made him speed up to where he couldn't even hear her protests. After all, it didn't matter. There was nothing she could possibly say to keep him from going to his brother's aid.
George finally reached the Astronomy Tower, and stopped dead in his tracks. No one was there. Fred's screaming died down, and no one could be seen in the tower. Overhead, the dark sky began to clear, until the sun shone over him... but he wasn't here.
George's feet carried him over to the edge of the tower, his hands falling against one of the turrets. He stared at his hands in confusion, just starting to realize how short of breath he was. What was going on? He was here a moment ago. Where did he go? Why did he leave? How could he?
"I only had one job. I was supposed to be there for you, when you needed me. I was supposed to protect you." George's gaze shifted out more towards the sky. "But I wasn't there. When you needed me most, I wasn't there for you." His eyes closed, head falling again. "I'm sorry, Fred."
"I'm sure he understands." Hands slid over his shoulders, arms wrapping around his neck. "You fell. There was nothing you could do. Frankly, I'm amazed you survived."
George turned around to look back at Angelina. Her eyes were red and swollen, but it was strange to still think she was so beautiful, even with her features twisted in mourning. She was wearing black dress robes, a deep violet rose pinned at the base of the hair, which was held up in a sort of honeycomb shape. Angelina wrapped her arms around George again, laying her head against his chest. "You need to be more careful, George. I can't lose you too."
George's face fell, holding her tightly to him. As deep as his desire was for him to be alone, Angelina seemed to be the only person he felt he could tolerate. The only one he felt could ever stand a chance at fully understanding him. They'd spent so much time together, that she almost seemed a part of their duo.
Angelina sniffed softly, and George held her tighter, running his hands along her back. There was so many things he wanted to tell her, but he knew he coldn't. There was no way for it to ever work. After all, Fred beat him to it.
"George!" George had just enough time to look up and see a flash of red, before a pair of arms were thrown around him, knocking Angelina away. "Oh George, my boy, what happened?" Molly pushed him back to look at his face. "First you run off like that, then we see you fall off the tower." She shook him slightly, beginning to yell in hysterics. "What's going on with you! Do you want to get yourself killed too?"
George stared back at his mother thunderstruck. He really didn't seem to understand the question well enough to think of a logical response. Soon, Molly's face twisted in anguish again. She threw her arms around George, and bawled unhindered. George glanced around to see his father and Charlie standing in the doorway, each looking nearly as distraught as his mother. There were signs of other heads trying to poke around their shoulders to see them, but he couldn't tell nor did he really care who it was.
"And don't you dare tell me I can't hug you." Molly scolded, clutching tighter to her son. George glanced down at her, the sense of guilt settling over him again. He really was being unfair to her, and the rest of the family. "I'm sorry, Mum." When George's head fell down on her shoulder, and his arms wrapped around to hold her, she sobbed harder, pulling him in with near crushing force. "Oh, Georgie. You just need to trust us more, dear." Molly pulled back, cupping George's face in between her hands. "We're still a family." George could almost hear the underlining, 'Just not a complete one.' and his hands started to shake. "And we're in this together."
All the confidence George was feeling earlier seemed to drain out of him. He felt more confused and unsure than he ever had before, in his life. She didn't seem to get it. It's not that he didn't trust any of them. He just found it hard to be around them a large chunk of the time. Most of the time it felt as though they didn't trust him. Like they thought he was going to do something stupid or crazy. He wouldn't ever do anything like that. They should know better.
"George, honey?" George glanced up to see his mother was staring at him with deep concern. "Is something wrong? You look awfully pale." She brushed his hair aside, placing her lips against his forehead. "You feel warm. Come on, let's get you home." Molly wrapped an arm around her son's shoulders leading him towards the door.
A hand touched George's shoulder, causing him to look up at Angelina, who was smiling at him. "You gonna be ok?"
George hesitated slightly. Not because he had to think about it, but because he was afraid she wouldn't believe him when he said, "Yea."
Despite what he thought, her smile widened, and she wrapped an arm around his neck. "Good." When her lips were right next to his ear, she whispered softly, "You let me know if you ever need anything." Angelina pulled back, still smiling. "K?"
George smiled in return, though even on his own face it felt forced. "Ok."
She patted him on the arm, starting to leave. "I'll see you later then." Angelina sauntered off, greeting a few people on the way down.
George watched her for a bit, almost feeling the knowing look from his mother, but he was distracted when they reached the rest of the family. From this close angle it was clearer to see Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermoine crowded on the stairs behind Arthur and Charlie. They seemed to look a bit scared, except for Ron who, once again, seemed as though he was trying to avoid looking at George. It almost looked as though Hermoine had dragged him up here.
"Is everything ok?" Arthur stepped forward, looking from his wife to his son.
"I think so." Molly answered, glancing up at George. "Isn't it?"
George was almost feeling a bit rebellious again and shrugged. "Don't ask me, I don't know anymore."
The horrified looks on his parents faces made him wish he hadn't said anything.
Charlie slid an arm around his shoulder, whispering in his ear, "You do realize I can't keep Mum off you when you go and throw yourself off the Astronomy Tower, don't you?"
George's face flushed a tad, and he actually gave a near genuine smile. "It was an accident. I got kinda turned around in thought."
"Uh huh. Well, maybe you should stop thinking."
George actually did laugh, though the smile didn't seem to reach his darkened eyes. "You're starting to sound like Fred."
Charlie squeezed his shoulder.
"I was just about to take George on home."
"That's probably a good idea." Stated Arthur, brushing a hand over his wife's face. "You should take the rest of the kids home, as well. I still need to help Bill and Percy sort out what we're doing with Fr-" He paused, looking from his wife to George, and cleared his throat. "With what we need to do now."
George's eyes shifted downward. His head suddenly felt fuzzy, and he leaned it against Charlie's shoulder. Charlie glanced down at him. "Wow, you do feel warm."
"I'm just tired."
"And you smell like booze. Have you been drinking?"
"Huh? No, why?" George looked up at his brother, then realized his pant leg felt wet. He felt around, when something pricked his finger. Near understanding dawned on him, and George reached into his pocket pulling out the spout of a glass bottle, the bottom of it having shattered, freeing the liquid inside. George's expression fell slightly.
"Where'd you get that?"
George sighed, dropping his head against Charlie's shoulder, and slid the nozzle back into his pocket. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
"You all go ahead back to the Burrow. We'll catch up with you all later." Arthur stated, still addressing his wife.
"Dear, are you sure you won't need any help?" Molly inquired of her husband, grasping his arm.
"The boys and I can handle it, Molly. You just take care of the kids." Arthur kissed his wife, before heading back towards the stairs. He stopped briefly, leaning over towards Charlie, as Molly began to shepherd the rest of the kids away. He cupped his hand next to his mouth. "Look after your mother. She's not as strong as she seems, right now. And you." He turned to George, and sighed. His hand fell on his shoulder. "Just be careful." Feeling the heat, he shifted the back of his hand against George's cheek. "It seems all that over-time at the store's finally catching up to you. Get some rest, Son."
George nodded. "I will."
They set off down the stairs, catching up to the rest of the family. Arthur broke off to find Bill, Fleur and Percy, while Molly, and the rest of the family, headed for the outskirts of the campus so that they could apparate home. The Weasley's had apparated as a family a few times before. It was an interesting effect, typically feeling worse for those further away from the parents. Which is why they started to work it out in the same sense as a port-key. Everyone would hold onto each other, and make sure they have one hand on the parent who is apparating them to their destination.
George instinctively reached out his hand to take one next to him, but no one grabbed it. It took him a second glance to realize that there was no one on that side of him. He curled his hand back in, gripping tighter onto Charlie.
xXx
Without a word to anyone, George went on up to his room. He was intending to follow his father's advice and get some sleep, but it seemed as though all the exhaustion flooded out of him when he entered the door. A quick glance to his left, and George jumped. Before Fred had only been there in voice, or in shadow, but there he was again. Sitting there, staring at him. It seemed odd for Fred not to be saying anything, but it really didn't matter at the moment. In fact, Fred looked just as dumbstruck as he felt.
Feelings his hands and legs shaking, George moved closer to his twin, wondering what he was doing here. "Fred?" Fred's mouth opened as if he was trying to say something, but the only voice George could hear was his own.
They reached for each other, laying their palms flat against the other's. Fred's hand felt cool and smooth, to the touch. It was a bit unnerving.
A crunch sounded, when George dropped his other hand down on the dresser, and he glanced down to see his palm had crushed what looked like a black pod. Probably from one of the many ingredients he had strewn across his desk.
A quick glance up, and George realized Fred was looking down too. This wasn't too odd, but the angle he was looking, he wouldn't be able to see what was going on. George looked back up at him, and drew his hand back and waved it in front of his twin's face... noting that Fred did the same. George groaned, smacking himself in the head... and so did Fred. He dropped his head down onto the dresser. "How can I be so stupid?"
"Come off it, George. You're not stupid. You're just off."
George's head snapped back up to stare at his reflection, but it wasn't looking back at him this time. His head felt funny, and he blinked hard to try and clear his eyesight, but nothing changed. The reflection was looking off into the opposite corner of the room, and he looked sad.
"Fred!" George jumped up straight, dropping both hands onto the dresser. "Fred, is that really you? Are you ok?"
Fred finally looked over towards him, a pained glint in his eyes. He looked as though he was going to cry, and that hurt far more than anything else. "What do you think?"
George's heart fell. That's not what he wanted to hear. "Fred, look I-"
"Where were you?"
"What?"
Fred turned more towards him, his eyes shifting to a more annoyed gaze. "You can still hear, can't you? Where were you? I looked for you, but you were no where to be found." He slammed his hands down on the dresser, on his side. "Where were you!"
George jumped, stumbling back a bit. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs. "I-I was just." His mind reeled trying to think of something to say. It was a bit unnerving to see Fred seem angry with him. "I blacked out. I didn't even know what happened to me."
"Do you know what happened to me?"
"No, I don't. Believe me, Fred, I wish I did. There was just no way for me to-"
"WHY WEREN'T YOU THERE!" Fred shouted, leaning right up against the mirror. "You were supposed to be there for me, but you weren't. Where were you?"
"I looked for you." George cried, nearly pleading for his brother to understand. He felt more scared than he could ever remember, in his life. Even more so than at the actual battle. Fred was mad at him. He probably even hated him. How could he let something like this happen? "I looked everywhere for you, but when I found you." George's entire body was shaking so badly that he couldn't even support his own weight. He slumped into a chair in front of his dresser. "By the time I found you, you were already gone." George stared into the angry face of his twin, feeling his eyes burning. "There was nothing I could do."
"Then you should have tried harder!"
George jumped. "What? But, you were... I couldn't."
"There was a way. There's always a way, you should know that by now, George." Fred slammed his fist down on the dresser again. "You know there's something you can do, you're just not thinking hard enough."
George's fear started to mingle with confusion again. What did he think he could do? "But you're... I can't."
"Don't you want me back?"
The note in Fred's tone made George look up to see tears flooding his eyes. George stood up straight, reaching a hand against the glass. "Don't say that, of course I do. I would give anything to have you back, it's just." George paused, not wanting to say it, then slumped back in the chair.
Fred's brows furrowed slightly. "Just what?"
"It's just." George dropped his forehead into his hand, feeling his eyes try to swell with tears. "I'm so sorry, Fred."
There was a brief pause, in which Fred turned away from him again. "Sorry isn't going to bring me back to life."
George sobbed, lowering his head into his hands more.
"And neither is crying." Fred snapped, and George jumped looking back up at him again. "You need to stop being so pathetic. You have to find a way to make it work."
xXx
A few hours later, Molly opened the door into her son's room. Her eyes immediately fell onto the figure sleeping in the bed closest to her. The bed she was pretty sure shouldn't be occupied. A bit unsure, Molly slid closer, sitting on the side of the bed. She brushed the red hairs aside, confirming the loss of her son's ear was still the deciding factor. With a heavy sigh, she squashed the dream of having her child come back to her. It seemed strange that her difficulty with telling the two apart was becoming more pronounced now than it had before.
She really had to stop doing that. More times than not, Molly had to bite her tongue to avoid calling George by his twin's name.
George had removed his robes, and thrown them onto his bed, but little else. Molly reached over and loosened the tie, sliding it from his neck with great care, so that she didn't wake him. George stirred slightly, his hand coming up to grip his pillow. It was then that Molly noticed blood on his sheets. She gasped, following the pattern to see that George's hand was bleeding.
With a quick flick of her wand, she mended the cuts in his hand, and started to search for the source. It didn't take her long to realize the broken mirror sitting on his dresser. After a brief moment of confusion, dawning set in as to the reasoning behind this action. Molly moved over to repair the broken mirror, and siphoned the rest of the blood from the dresser. On her way back, she spotted a pair of black dress shoes sticking out from the bottom of the sheets. A small smile touched her lips, contrasting her ever present urge to cry, and Molly slowly untied the shoes, and slid them from her son's feet, pulling the covers down over them.
Molly moved back up, tucking her child in further, and sat back down on the bed, proceeding to stroke his hair. George moaned, clutching the pillow closer into him, and sniffed. This time Molly couldn't hold back her tears anymore as she looked down on him. "It's going to be ok, Georgie. I promise it won't hurt forever."
##
AN: Ok, that sort of fell apart towards the end, but this was actually really fun to write. (What fun? What's wrong with me?) I remember one of my main pet peeves was that Fred and George were glued at the hip this entire series, so where the hell was George when Fred died? Well, this is my take on what happened to him. (It's not exactly what happened, because i was trying to fuse past and present, and didn't actually want to kill him, but i will go into further detail about the specifics.) So, yea. I needed to make it something fairly big in order to keep George away long enough to justify Fred's death. Ugh, did i just say, justify? There's nothing that can possibly justify something so horrible.