Chapter 12:
The mayhem that surrounded him could not distract from the dread that filled his thoughts. George had heard an explosion; it had come from the other side of the castle. George was running. He dodged the many curses that head his way, narrowly missing some that could have been fatal to him. He ran like he had never ran before. Something in that explosion had hurt him, he felt a stabbing pain in his heart. A shadow of fear was growing in his mind.
When he reached the site of the explosion, there was nothing. Stones, huge and broken, were scattered in disarray, but no sign of life was seen or heard. George, however, could still not shake the feeling that haunted him. He made his way towards the Great Hall, where many others were heading.
The scene inside the Great Hall was chaos. George saw what seemed like hundreds of people, huddled in small crowds, leaning over the wounded and the dead. Then he saw a flash of red, recognising the Weasley hair. He ran towards them, relief flooding through him. Until he saw his mother- he felt a pang of fear. She was shaking; huge, raking sobs were coming from behind her bowing head. His father was comforting her, great tears staining his cheeks. Percy, who was kneeling next to them, was crying silently. George had never seen Percy cry before.
The body lying before them was hidden from view, but a terrible, agonising fear was coursing through him. He moved forwards in a daze; Percy spotted him first. He stopped crying abruptly, opening his mouth as if to say something, but no sound came out.
George ignored him and kept walking. His mother then saw him.
"Ge...George?" she whispered. Mr Weasley said nothing, his eyes filled with remorse.
George moved around them all, until the body was in full view. His stomach plummeted and bile rose to his throat. This was not happening. This couldn't be happening. His legs collapsed from beneath him, still metres away from the huddle that was his family.
The body, cold and chalk white in death, was Fred.
George woke up with a start. Beads of sweat had formed on his head and he was shaking.
"Georgie?" It was his mother.
"Mum? Wha... how did I get here?"
She smiled weakly and came to sit on the side of his bed. Fred's bed lay untouched on the other side of the room, gradually gathering dust. George felt a sharp pang in his stomach when he saw the bed, and looked away.
"Ron and Hermione brought you home while you were sleeping," she said. "But... they... we all thought it would be best for you," she added hastily when she saw the look on George's face.
"What about Eideard and Rhoswen?" he said, frowning. "After all they did for me, you just took me away? Without even saying 'thank you'?"
Molly bit her lip. "Well, we said thank you. Of course we did," she said desperately. "But, you were more important, you were in such a bad state! I just wanted you to get better, and out there, even if you were inside, it was so, so cold, and that's not going to help you get better. Home is obviously the best place..." she trailed off. George was narrowing his eyes dangerously. "Okay, I'll just leave you to feel better..." she said nervously.
"Yeah, you do that," he replied, a slight hint of sarcasm in his voice. He didn't want to upset her, that was the last thing he wanted. But he was angry, he couldn't deny it. By bringing him back home, without him even realising, they were treating him like a child.
You shouldn't push them away, George.
He winced as the voice in his head returned. "They shouldn't treat me like I'm four," he thought lamely.
Don't make excuses. You can't expect them to act the same as normal around you after the way you've been, after the things you've done. You ran away, for crying out loud, they are obviously going to treat you differently.
"Stop it Fred, stop it. Not you."
You need to get over me, George. You need to forget me.
"You wouldn't say that," he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. "You would never tell me to forget you. Just, go Fred, go. Please, GO AWAY."
He regretted it the moment he said it. "Fred?" he whispered, his rage vanishing rapidly. "Fred, are you there?"
There was no reply.
"Fred, please, I didn't mean it, you know I didn't mean it!" He jumped up from the bed and ran across the room, looking desperately into the mirror for the first time in a long, long time. "Fred, talk to me!" The face staring back at him was crying, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. And then George saw it. The reflection had only one ear.
"No!" he cried, and he raised his fist and slammed it into the mirror, which shattered, breaking his image and sending shards of the mirror in all directions. George felt a searing pain spread over his hand and down his arm, but he didn't care. He walked, his feet bare, back over towards the bed, sharp pains shooting up his leg as bits of the mirror pierced the soles of his feet. The warmth of blood drenched his arm, slowly and sickly dripping over his clean, white bed.
He heard a knock on the door, but before he could hide the blood or clean up the mirror, Charlie pushed open the door.
"George?" he walked straight in and sat next to George on the bed. "Look at you!" He picked up Georges hurt hand and muttered a few words. The wounds healed slightly, but there were still thin scars all over his hand, and blood stained his skin and clothes. "What have you done, you fool! What made you think punching the mirror would help?" Charlie said, laughing, trying to act jokingly but still not disguising the way he felt about what George was doing to himself.
George stared down at his hands, not wanting to look Charlie in the eyes. "I don't...I don't know. I suppose I got angry."
"With the mirror? It's not doing anything to you except show you your reflection, y'know George."
"But I'm not just seeing myself, don't you understand?" he shouted in anguish. "I see Fred! Every time I get even a glimpse of myself, he stares back at me. How could you even begin to imagine how that feels?"
"I see you, George, that's bad enough," he said quietly. At George's confused expression, he continued. "Do you think every time I see you, I don't see Fred, too? You don't think that, sometimes I see you and almost call you 'Fred'? We all have to see the image you see in the mirror, George. We all loved Fred as well."
George was silent. He wanted to say 'You never loved him as much as I did, he was my twin for crying out loud!' But he didn't, he didn't say anything.
Charlie cleaned away the rest of George's blood and looked back at his younger brother. "You really hurt Mum, earlier today. She doesn't deserve for you to treat her like that."
George sighed. "I know, I was just...angry. I don't want to be treated like a child!"
"We aren't treating you like a child, George. We're only caring for you," Charlie said gently.
George turned away from his older brother. Although slightly comforted by Charlie's words, he wasn't going to let him know that.
Charlie stood up and headed towards the door. "Just, think about what I said, alright?" And he left the room, repairing the mirror as he left.
A/N: Sorry it's been so long since I updated, been caught up in exams and the like ¬.¬ And my piano teacher is like 'YOU DON'T PRACTICE ENOUGH' so now that is a priority. Brilliant. BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS :D And please review? It means a lot to me if you do (: And I will update as soon as I can, I am beginning chapter 13 right now. :P