Author's Note: Sorry chapters are taking so long everyone, but I'm so busy at the moment it's ridiculous! I quite like this chapter so I really hope you do too. This fic was originally going to be only four chapters long so I'm not sure how many more there are going to be. But please be patient with me, and don't worry, I intend to finish this! Please keep reading and reviewing and I'll love you forever ;)
George slowly felt himself begin to wake up. His limbs were stiff from being in the same awkward position all night long. Chairs were not comfortable to sleep in.
He could hear voices; he groaned inwardly as the last thing he wanted to do was make conversation. Everything was so strained now, three weeks later with no change, and he was struggling to be cooperative when all he could do was watch Harry slip away.
He kept his eyes tight shut, and listened to the hushed voices, instantly recognising them as his mother and father's.
"I can't lose another son Arthur, I won't be able to handle it," his mother sniffled. George's heart jumped.
"Molly, we need to be strong for Harry," his Dad soothed.
"I can't! I've already lost Fred, and how is George going to cope? And Ron? Oh Merlin, Arthur I can't bear this!" she began to weep.
And for the second time in his life, George heard his father cry. It was wrong. His parents were suffering and it wasn't fair.
It was his fault. It was all his fault.
He should have protected Harry, protected Fred; he was the cause of their pain. Harry was dying, and he would be alone once again. And his parents would hate him for it.
He didn't know where all these thoughts were coming from, but nothing had ever made more sense to him.
He heard his Dad sniff and clear his throat.
"Come on dear, let's go home,"
He waited until the scraping of the chair legs against the floor ceased. He waited until the shuffled footsteps of his parents stopped. He waited until he heard the door swing closed. He threw off his blanket and leaned over Harry's silent body, clutching at his chest.
"Right, you listen to me," he said forcefully, "You did not face Voldemort countless times and beat him, to be defeated by a bitter Death eater. You did not get through that damned Triwizard Tournament to be killed by some stupid dark curse. You did not last seventeen years with the Dursleys, in constant danger, or on the run to die now. You did not save my life and let me fall in love with you to leave me here!"
It was then that he knew Harry wasn't going to wake up.
He buried his face in Harry's cotton shirt, bunching the material in his fists as he fought back those God forsaken tears that he'd shed enough of to last three lifetimes.
Finally, forcing himself to stop, he let go of Harry and rose to his feet.
Looking at the boy one last time, he turned around and left the hospital.
Left Harry.
It would be quick and simple.
Not messy; just like being stunned.
It was time now.
George stood alone in his and Fred's childhood bedroom, and cats his gaze over the Quidditch posters, the products, the dirty clothes and the experiments.
It had to be done here.
He stood upright and strong with his back to the door; he raised his wand, and pointed it at his temple. It felt like a friend, ready to help.
His eyes fluttered shut.
He took a deep breath.
Just two words. Two words that would come so easily now …
"GEORGE! What the-!" Someone yanked his arm away violently and pulled his wand away from him.
No. No he wanted to end this. He struggled against the person clutching his wrists. If he could only reach his wand…
"GEORGE!" The person shook him and he jerked to a stop. It was Neville holding him. His eyes were wild as he stared at him, a mixture of anger, disbelief and relief. He grabbed George's face in his hands, gripping him tightly like he could force the sense into him.
"WHAT ARE YOU THINKING!" he bellowed, "Don't you DARE!" he was shaking uncontrollably.
George then noticed Luna standing in the doorway, hands over her mouth and tears streaming down her pale face.
He'd done that to her. How could he have been so stupid?
Finally, he collapsed into Neville's arms and began to cry.
Neville held him close and breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"Thank Merlin we got to you in time," he murmured. Luna walked further into the room, and crouched down beside the boys.
"George, look at me," she whispered. He glanced up into those bright eyes. She took his hand and squeezed gently. "It's Harry," she whispered.
The panic rose again. What? No, no.
"What Luna? What's happened to him?" his voice was so unsteady, he was amazed he'd managed to get words out. Beginning to feel his world crashing down on him, he grabbed for her hand. She shook her head, still crying.
"He's fighting."
George had rushed back to the hospital with Neville and Luna, frantic and desperate to see Harry.
He'd grabbed his hand upon arriving. It was a little bit warmer.
He watched the boy's chest rise a bit higher, the purple on his eyelids had lessened and his cheeks the tiniest bit pinker. All these small details gave him so much hope.
"He's better! Why is he better!" he asked the Healer who was examining Harry.
"We're not sure," the man frowned at Harry as he waved his wand over his body, making him glow red and orange. He looked so beautiful.
Why was all the staff here so impersonal? This Healer wouldn't even look at him. George wanted to see his eyes; the amazement or the hopelessness.
"His heart rate and brain activity have increased," he explained, "his breathing has improved as well. It does seem as though he's pushing against it,"
George wanted to scream and shout. His Harry was getting better.
The Healer seemed to think of something.
"Mr Potter is able to fight off the Imperius curse isn't he?"
"Oh yes," Luna assured him, as if she was making sure the man was fully aware of Harry's power.
"I think that ability may have something to do with it," he said, giving her a strange look.
"Well you see, I suspect the Wild Hillykrinks," Luna insisted, "they inhabit the closed mind you see, and once meaningful outside speech is heard, they begin to build up a resistance …"
As Luna rattled on, the Healer looked rather alarmed and put out at being told how to do his job.
But George only got one thing out of her ramblings. He'd spoken to Harry for the first time that morning, and then he'd got better. Luna had been right all along. All he had to do was talk to him.
He heard Neville chuckle, and turned to watch him take Luna's hand.
Well that was new.
Smiling, he turned back to Harry to stroke his cheek, and leant down to whisper into his ear.
"I'm here, Harry. I'm here."