10. I WILL BE YOUR BROTHER

Tragedy/Hurt/Comfort, 1,214 words, Rated T

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments)

Assignment #1: Muggle Arts (Task 1): Write about facing a loss

Chocolate Frog Cards Club: Sirius Black II (Bronze): Write about someone with a large family

Seasonal Challenges: Shay's Musical Challenge: Bandstand: Write about caring for someone who lost a loved one; Gryffindor Themed Prompts: Characters (Easy): George Weasley; Gryffindor Themed Prompts: Characters (Medium): Angelina Johnson

They had held hands as the sun set over the lake. It was the calm before a storm they couldn't joke about.

"George," Fred spoke slowly, his gaze focused on the water, where the vivid oranges and pinks danced on the lazy waves. It looked almost like flames. "No matter what happens here tonight-" he swallowed nervously, each word a bit shakier than the one before, "no matter who we lose, I will always be your brother."

George glanced over at him, a shiver crawling up his spine as he noted how the freckles on his brother's face looked like ashes in the sun's last light. He squeezed Fred's hand to comfort him, to comfort himself.

"And I will always be here for you, you know," Fred continued, his voice nearly cracking as he met his twin's gaze. "Even if this fight leaves us with nothing but each other and tears and pain, I'll always be here."

He squeezed their hands once more.

"We won't let it come to that, then," George stated decisively, his voice hoarse despite the confidence in his tone. "We'll stick together. Keep everyone we can safe. We've got good fighters on our side... we've got each other. And some no-nosed git is not going to be the end of us."

Fred smiled as George finished, thin lips creating dimples in his cheeks as they stretched out, and it lit a warmth in George that he could still bring about happiness while tensions were running so high.

"Thanks, Georgie," his brother responded simply, and with one final squeeze they let their hands fall apart.

-o-O-o-

"Damn it!" George shouted, his voice cracking horribly as he sent the pebble straight into the pond with a splash. It was followed by a fistful of others, flung through the water's surface with as much force as he could muster. "Merlin, fucking why?!"

He leaned over to pick up more rocks to throw, and ended up keeling over, his knees shaking as emotion wracked his body. He let his palms press into the sharp edges of the stones, a choked-up sob forcing his weight downwards.

It was never going to leave him, was it? That aching emptiness in his chest, the guilt, the constant reminders everywhere that it was real. It wasn't a nightmare, it wasn't a prank.

He hated how his mother still slipped up, calling Fred down for breakfast, telling Fred to fix his hair when it was George in front of her. He hated how he couldn't sleep in his own bedroom anymore, because it wasn't just his bedroom, was it? He hated how his father couldn't look him in the eye. He hated how he had taken down all the mirrors in the house, because he couldn't look himself in the eye. He hated how laughing and joking felt like a betrayal. He hated the world without Fred.

A tear slipped from his face to the pebbles below him. His forearms shook and collapsed beneath him, and he had to take a moment to find the will to sit up again and pull his knees to his chest.

Just in time for a visitor.

"Molly told me I might find you out here," the voice spoke, quiet and gentle and strained.

He didn't bother looking up as someone sat down beside him. He knew who it was. The voice was one he once would have made countless jokes to, laughing and grinning in each other's company. The peripherals of his vision caught her sweeping her tightly braided hair over her shoulder. Her hand was still scarred from where a nasty curse had brushed it.

"So I thought you might like some company," Angelina continued. It was oddly surreal to hear her voice so soft.

George was at a loss of how to reply. Whether to reply at all. He hadn't spoken properly to anyone in weeks. "You didn't have to come out here," he mumbled, raising a hand to pinch his eyes closed.

"I wanted to," she argued, turning her head to fully acknowledge him. "George, you - your hand is bleeding."

Caught off guard by the statement, his head rose and eyes opened to glance at his hand. The palm was grazed and scratched from being pressed into the stones, trickles of blood leaking from the worst cuts. He raised his other hand to find similar results. He hadn't even noticed the pain until then. "Oh."

Angelina studied his bland expression with sympathy. "George, you're not okay."

"I'm not," he agreed quietly, forcing down a sob that threatened to escape.

"I'm not going to force you to talk," she explained, and he felt intimidated by how steady her voice was compared to his own, "even though I think you really should. But distancing yourself from everyone isn't going to help you... or them. We all lost Fred that night."

And that was it. The name was all it took to set him off, and he hated so furiously how pathetic he felt because of it. He felt his whole body shake with the force of each sob, tears running freely down his freckled cheeks as his trembling, bloody hands knotted themselves into his fiery hair. He felt a warmth against his back as arms wrapped themselves around him. Angelina was whispering gently to him, but what exactly she said he had no idea because Fred Fred FRED was occupying so much of his mind and consuming his heart.

He didn't know how long he was sitting there, slowly rocking himself as Angelina coaxed his body to relax. His hands fell from his hair at long last, a while after he had completely drained himself of tears. He felt completely exhausted and spent, but considerably better than he had prior to his friend's arrival.

"Thank you," he mumbled, and felt her move from behind him to his side once again, her soft smile and pained, watery eyes more comfort to him than he had felt in a long time. "And - I - um... I'm sorry, for pushing you and everyone aw-"

"Don't you dare apologise, George Weasley," she interrupted him, smile still present despite her fierce tone. "Like I said, we all lost Fred. But you more than anyone, and it'll take time for that loss to heal. Maybe it never will, and that's okay. But you can be happy, even though he's gone. And as long as you don't give up, as long as I get to see you smile again one day, I'll wait forever."

And George didn't smile. Not yet. But he hoped his appreciation for Angelina showed in the grateful nod he gave her and the squeeze he gave her hand.

"Let's go patch up your hands," she said, smiling in return, and gave his hand a squeeze back.

And in the back of his mind, he heard it; a familiar voice that brought the smallest blossom of warmth to his empty chest.

"I will always be your brother. And I will always be here for you."