As soon as he closed the door to the Leaky Cauldron behind him, George apparated to his apartment. He paused for a moment to take in a deep breath before punching the air with his fist.
"Yes!" he cried out gleefully. His cry of joy echoed through the deserted alleyway even after he apparated back to his apartment.
George was ecstatic. He had never landed a date with a girl ever, and now he was on a second date! George couldn't stop smiling, he sat himself on his bed to think. He couldn't believe how lucky he was. He was beginning to understand what Bill, Charlie, and Percy had been trying to tell him. This feeling he had, bubbling up inside him, was indescribable. He couldn't explain it, but he loved it! It made him happy enough to forget about the rest of the world. All he could think about was Autumn. He couldn't stop smiling.
George leapt from his bed and to his dresser across the room. He carefully opened the bottom drawer, which was filled with glass vials, either empty, or filled with strangely colored liquids. He pulled out a intricately decorated glass vial filled with a red-violet solution. He placed it on top of his dresser before carefully closing the drawer.
George took the cork off the top of the vial and sniffed it. It was an oddly scented cologne. He set the bottle on the table and glanced at his watch. He had seven minutes. George whipped around to run to his closet instead of bothering with the cologne. He heard the sound of breaking glass. He turned back to the dresser to see he had knocked the vial over onto the floor. It had landed underneath the covered mirror. He was about to bend over to pick the shards of glass up, but he froze in front of the mirror.
He didn't want to, nor did he think to, but for some reason, George felt his hand reach out towards the blanket covering the mirror. He grabbed onto the blanket, and tugged on it lightly. He let go with a jolt, recoiling as if he had touched a hot stove. The blanket slithered off the mirror. George saw his reflection and fell weakly to his knees. The face he had seen staring back at him, all the thoughts that ran through his head in that millisecond; it was exactly as he had feared.
"What is wrong with me?" he whispered shakily to himself. "What have I done?"
He had seen Fred staring back at him in the mirror. He had seen the amused look on his face, the same look he had when he was killed by that Death Eater. The same look that he, his twin brother, had died with. George began to fall forward, thrusting his hands out to the ground. They landed on the sharp glass, he winced, and tears streamed from his eyes.
He had forgotten. He had forgotten all the things that he and Fred had been through. He had forgotten all that he and Fred had worked for to make this shop happen. He had forgotten that he had a twin, and that he wasn't just George. He had forgotten his brother, and his best friend. He had forgotten Fred.
He blew it all off, just for a girl. He had ignored Fred's existence. He saw him in the crowd in front of Fortescue's, but he ignored him, even if it was only a figment of his imagination. He had blown off the shop thinking about Autumn. He had been foolish and immature enough to forget that his brother had died for the better good of wizardkind. He had forgotten that his brother should be treated like a hero. Instead, he had thrown his brother into the back of his mind, too shrouded in the dark for even him to notice.
George saw blood on the floor, and quickly jumped back. He lifted his hands to eye level, shaking. There was bits of glass dug into his palms, and blood was flowing down onto his wrists and slowly down his arms. Forgetting his wand, he began to pick out each individual shard of glass, throwing it behind him, not caring where it landed.
Each piece of glass sent a pangs of sharp pain through his fingers, but he didn't care. He deserved it, he wasn't even human. No mortal person could forget someone like Fred. Fred was like the leader. Although everyone thought that they were exactly the same, they had their differences. Fred was slightly harsher and tougher than George was. He was the leader, and always knew what to do next, while George was the more softened follower, always looking up to Fred.
He pulled out a relatively large piece of glass from his thumb and winced. Fred had always been there for him through thick and thin, but now he was dead, and George couldn't even return the simple favor of remembering Fred.
"What is wrong with me." he repeated in a harsh whisper. His vision blurred.
George threw the last piece of glass across the room, and drew his knees up to his chest. He wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his face in his knees. He began to cry.
He didn't want Fred to be gone. He didn't want to believe it, but he was. He had forgotten him, for an entire day. After the lifetime they had spent together inseparable, he had forgotten, it just wasn't right.
George's sobs grew slowly louder as he remembered the promise they had made when they first started the shop.
"So how long do you think we'll keep this up?" George had asked.
"Until the day we die of course." Fred had answered.
"But what if one of us dies before the other?"
"Won't happen."
"Why not?"
"Because, we were only born thirteen minutes apart, why not die the same way?'
"You really think so?"
"I know so, same exact hour of the same exact day. I promise."
George lifted his head from his knees and looked up at the mirror.
"You promised." he said out loud through his uncontrollable sobs. "YOU PROMISED!"
George lashed out at the mirror, punching it fiercely with all the anger and confusion in his body. It shattered immediately. His sobs had gone to the volume of screams. He couldn't control himself. He began hitting and breaking everything he could in an attempt to take out his rage on something. He kicked a hole in the wall and ripped the frame of the mirror of the wall. He threw the frame to the ground where it broke into several pieces.
He yanked the drawers from his dresser, the contents flying everywhere. He ripped the sheets of his bed and tore them in half. He yanked clothes from their hangers in his closet and threw them across the room. All the time sobbing loudly and screaming at the top of his lungs "YOU PROMISED! YOU PROMISED! WHY DID YOU LIE TO ME! YOU PROMISED!"
He raged around his room like this for half an hour, ripping off his wallpaper and throwing his mattress off of his bed. The last thing he remembered doing was whip his wand out and incinerate his bed frame, leaving nothing but ash.
He threw his wand away and fell backwards onto the floor, crying even harder. He was going insane. The room was littered with broken grass and ripped of bits of cloth and parchment. He had thrown his ink bottles around the room, leaving black blotches on the walls and floor. Stuffing was spilling out of his pillow, and his sheet were covered in blood from his still wounded hands.
George felt his word falling apart around him. He wanted Fred back, he wanted his old life back. He couldn't convey all of his negative emotions fast enough. They were overwhelming him. No matter how many tears he shed or how much he screamed, his heart was still ripping itself apart beneath his chest.
George was shaking all over, he couldn't stop crying. His cheeks were wet with tears, and his eyes were puffed up and red.
Someone knocked softly on the door. George froze.
"George, are you there?" came Autumn's voice.
George didn't answer.
"George, I thought we were supposed to meet up an hour ago...I know you're in there. Are you alright?"
George buried his face in his knees in an attempt to muffle his crying, but he knew that Autumn could still hear him.
"George, I-" she began. "...never mind."
George heard Autumn storm angrily down the stairs and out of the shop. He didn't know how she got in, but he didn't care. He didn't need Autumn. He didn't deserve someone as wonderful as Autumn. He had been so cruel to Fred's memory.
George lifted his head slightly and peered through his red hair. He knew that he had Fred's face. They were twins after all. He shared Fred's eyes, his nose, his mouth, his chin, and his hair...
George stood up and walked across the room to the ashes of his bed frame. He dug through them for his wand. Blowing off the film of ash. George held the wand to his head and tapped it once. Black liquid leaked from the wand, trickling down his head, and settling slowly into his hair.
George found a piece of glass from the mirror on the floor about the size of his hand. He looked at his reflection. His red hair had become an off black color. He held a few strands in his fingers and looked at his reflection. His hair was different now, but his face...it still belonged to Fred.
He flung the mirror across the room and watched it shatter into a million pieces against the wall. He couldn't control his anger, he just couldn't. He didn't want to be part of this world anymore. He just wanted Fred back. He glared over at his window. The sun was rising over the horizon, pouring light into his room. Angrily, George pointed his wand at his closet door. It pulled itself off of it's hinges. Directing it with his wand, George thrust the door across the room towards the window. The door broke the glass of the window. He could hear the shards breaking into smaller pieces on the street below. He released the door when it hit the wall, and aimed his wand at the floorboards. He drew the nails out from the boards, and with his wand, used them to drill the door to the wall, so that the window was completely covered. His room was submerged in complete darkness.
Groping the wall for guidance, George found his closet, still crying and letting out loud sobs of blind rage and depression. He fell on top of the pile of clothes he had ripped form the hangers, and passed out with exhaustion.
