A/N:

Hogwarts Auction
Day 17, Auction 4: "Stop Making This Hurt" - Bleachers

Warning: past character death, grief, mentions of war

Word count: 423

George pushed his face into the pillow and groaned. He'd been at it for hours. And the night before that had been the same. And the night before that…

He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a proper night's sleep. It definitely hadn't been since Fred died, but even before that, it had been difficult. He and Fred had spent the war worrying about Ron off with Harry and Hermione. Then they'd begun helping Lee with Potterwatch and had grown even more worried about unannounced Death Eaters showing up at their door.

He turned over again to stare at the ceiling and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes until they stung. He soaked it in. Any feeling was better than the continuous ache in his chest. He groaned again. He'd never felt so much at once in his entire life.

At least during the war he'd had the satisfaction of knowing that he was doing something. It kept him from feeling hopeless. He was fighting back in all the ways he could, and there was light at the end of the tunnel. If they just kept going, they could make it out, and then things would be better.

But the other half of him hadn't made it out of the tunnel.

He turned back over and pressed his face harder into the pillow. Fred was there, on the back of his eyelids. George watched as he laughed and cracked jokes. It wasn't even a memory. It was Fred, as real as he'd ever been, conjured entirely by George's subconscious. He knew exactly what Fred would be doing and saying if he were still around. He couldn't escape it. Everytime he talked to someone, he kept thinking about what comments Fred would make and forgetting to speak for himself.

He hit the pillow with his fist and turned onto his back again.

"Why can't you leave me alone and stop making this hurt even worse?"

The words hung in the air. Fred wasn't there to hear them, yet he was. He was everywhere, all the time, and George needed him to leave if he had any chance of moving on. The ache in his chest didn't budge though, and tears stung at George's eyes.

"Please. It hurts so much. You're supposed to be gone. We didn't say goodbye. Is that it? Would that make you leave me alone? Well, goodbye. Now leave, please. Please. I just need you to leave."

He curled into a ball as tears racked his body.