Author's Note: Contrary to the warm fuzzies of last week, this chapter makes me sick. Because you know what? I know bad writing when I see it. Unless it's my own writing. But the point remains. I know lame plot twists and pathetic character deaths and… well… I'm biased, I know. But still. It was a fizzle ending to a explosive series.
But I thought it'd be better if I kept in the facts. Because, hey, it's her lame book, not mine. My book would be way lamer. Truth, son, truth.
This chapter is extremely short, for which I will not apologize because it was unpleasant to write and made me very cross and impatient to GET ON WITH IT. I'll post more later on in the week so no one has to sit around thinking "That douche posted a page and a half about depressing bullshit" and then mail me an exploding tool box. Please don't do that, it would upset the neighbors.
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Part Eleven
It was the last time George would ever see Fred. He didn't know it then.
Well, that wasn't true. Part of him knew. Most of him feared it, maybe it would be him who didn't come back, maybe it would be Fred. But part of him knew that this was it. They both did.
They stood next to each other, wands in hand, and there was a roar of crumbling stones around them, screaming, shouting, and magical explosions.
"I know," Fred had yelled.
"What?" George had called back. "What do you know?"
"EVERYTHING you tosser!" Fred had yelled back and grinned at him. He'd grabbed George in a hug and spoken into his ear. "I know you know. About me, and me and Harry, and I know that you and he… I just know, okay? And I'm not mad."
"Fred, I –"
"Shut up," Fred had yelled back, pulling away and grinning. His eyes had gone red around the edges. "Promise you'll meet me here after."
George had nodded fiercely.
He had also shown up after it had ended, his head bleeding fiercely, one hand pressed against it to staunch the blood where his ear had been. He wanted to find Fred. To apologize. To get everything off his chest, and to finally be completely honest with SOMEONE, the only person he knew would understand him perfectly.
Fred had not shown up.
And before he could see the body, before anyone could tell him, George knew. He did not move for a long time. There were no tears to cry, no words to say, nothing to do… it was just a wash of nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.