Remember when I was all like "I'm gonna do NaNoWriMo!"
Well, I did. I got about 25000 words on this story. And then I didn't upload anything.
I'm going to make myself update once every day until I run out of pre-written chapters, just to take a minute and do something other than think, you know? I'm not done the story, but I'm a hell of a lot closer than I was before. Have I worked on this a ton since November? No. Do I think I can finish it before this summer? We'll see how it goes. But yeah. It's been a minute. I really do like this chapter, as well.
Leave a review, I beg of you. I like reading them. Enjoy!
When George mounted that broomstick with Remus, he knew that something would go wrong. Really, he had known it all along. He had gotten damn good at sensing danger. He kicked off anyway, uncomfortable with another human so close to him. Flying was something he preferred to do in the company of close friends, unless it was Quidditch, of course. At the moment, he wouldn't consider Remus a friend.
The moment George caught a glimpse of something that was too green to be lighting was the moment he lost it. His every fear had been confirmed.
George pulled his wand out, ready to fight at any moment. His brain was going every which way, unsure what to focus on. His first thought was to find Fred at any cost, but he knew it was hopeless. Before he had time to think, several Death Eaters were upon him. His stomach turned, and he nearly dropped his wand as he raised it. He thought he could make out something moving towards him, but he couldn't be sure. He took a deep breath before shouting a stunning curse.
George didn't know if it hit something or not, but he did know that it drew attention. Remus guided the broom up sharply, forcing George to cling onto Remus' back for dear life. He removed a shaky hand and pointed it behind him.
"Stupefy!" George's voice was firm and commanding and everything but how he felt. He instinctively knew that his spell had hit something, and he prayed it wasn't somebody on his side. Without looking to confirm, he started firing spells at random.
Years of Quidditch trained him to the sound of an approaching broom. His right ear just barely caught the movement of wind. He tried to twist around and fire a spell.
George tipped over. His leg slipped off the back of the broom. His right hand desperately gripped Remus' elbow. Remus, unable to take his hands off the broom for fear of losing control, pulled his elbow up as far as he could. George attempted to swing his leg around and back onto the broom. His right hand, his weaker hand, was sweating and shaking under the strain. He tried in vain not to look down. Anywhere but down.
As George tried again to re-mount the broom, his swinging body narrowly dodged a green light. "Fuck!" George screamed. Harry was taller than him, impairing his ability to control his limbs. The different proportions didn't help, either. He looked back at where the Killing Curse had come from, only to see a masked figure pointing his wand at Remus. George desperately swung his legs up again.
This time, George was able to get his left leg hooked on the broom. While he was using Remus as a support to get upright, Remus was firing curses at the Death Eater, some of which George had never heard. His Defense Against the Dark Arts hadn't been very thorough, especially as it became more advanced. Remus' motion wasn't making the feat easier for him, though, and George found himself jostled around rather than able to make it back onto the broom. George used his delicate position to reach a second Death Eater that he spotted approaching. When he glanced over to make sure Remus was still on course, he noticed four more. They were surrounded.
When Remus stopped moving for just a moment, George was able to hoist himself back on the broom. Sitting back on the broom, he could much more effectively attack the Death Eaters approaching from the left while Remus tackled the ones from the right. George was nauseous and shaking, but his focus didn't waver. It's just a game of Quidditch, he told himself. It was his only lifeline, the only thing keeping him on his broom.
George wasn't looking to his right. That proved to be a mistake. Something that could only have been the Cruciatus Curse hit him from behind. He could feel Remus' left hand grasping him desperately as he screamed. George had never moved much, in sleep or in pain, so it wasn't the writhing that worried Remus. It was George's tendency to go limp.
George wasn't sure how it happened, but they had landed on a roof by the time the curse wore off. "Muggles will hear us!" was his first and only thought of what to say.
"You get on the inside. You matter more." Remus fired a handful of curses at the brooms approaching them. George shuddered as somebody fell to their death.
George opened his mouth in protest, but no sound came out. He knew he couldn't protest. He mounted the broom in front of Remus before kicking off. He didn't have a solid grip, but it was good enough. A quiet beeping caught his ear before they ended up in the thick of the battle. His watch timer. They had missed the Portkey.
"Just get out of this shit!" George screamed before firing another stunning curse. "We're out of time!"
"Fuck! Crucio!" Remus yelled.
George didn't even second-guess the use of an Unforgivable. He shouted a couple of stupid hexes in the vain hope that it would distract one of his pursuers. He managed to hit someone with a Horn Tongue Hex, but most of his spells missed. He thought he heard a familiar voice shout a curse that he didn't recognize, but he shrugged it off.
All at once, three things happened. A blinding white light enveloped him. George knew it was a spell instantly, though which one, he couldn't be sure. Secondly, there was a splatter on his face, like he had just been splashed with water. Remus' scream, the third thing he registered, was muffled and distant. George could feel himself beginning to fall after all this happened, though he must have been for at least a few seconds. He could make out little, but he did see a broom diving towards him. Time seemed to slow. His vision was clouded by red. Odd, he thought. That was when he fell unconscious.
Fred felt safe with his dad. Or, at least, he thought he did. He tried to forget what George had rambled on about the night before. Knowing something was going to go wrong was one of George's strong suits, but Fred was practiced at ignoring it. This time, though, he couldn't shake the thought.
Arthur's arms were wrapped around Fred's torso, since Fred was by far the better flier. He could maneuver them out of trouble if need be. They would be safe. Fred couldn't tell if Arthur suddenly gripped him tighter due to the speed or to provide Fred with extra protection.
That was when he saw the cloaked figure hurling towards them. "Hold on!" Fred yelled before diving as far down as he could go. He didn't care that they were probably in sight of Muggles. He had to get them out.
Fred grabbed for his wand and started firing curses at random behind him. He shouted anything from Stupefy to an Insect Hex. He hoped that some of them were hitting.
There was a tugging in his gut that Fred was struggling to ignore. It was getting worse and worse, but he couldn't place the sensation. He knew he had felt it before, but when…?
He kept firing curses, struggling to steer and attack at the same time. He almost ran them into a barn, but he was able to pull up just in time. Their last pursuer was unable to stop and was driven into the building.
"Quick thinking," Arthur complimented breathlessly.
It was then that it hit him. December 29, 1995. That was what the feeling was from. The day that George...George! he thought in a panic.
"Watch the tree!" Arthur screamed, but it was too late. Fred took the brunt of the blow, sparing Arthur. The broom snapped, and they both tumbled to the ground.
Fred lay panting, unable to think of anything but how he was going to get to his dying twin. He didn't think he could move, but there was always a chance that…
Fred tried to sit up, but a sharp pain and a suspicious cracking noise forced him to stay on the ground. "Shelter," he croaked.
Arthur dragged Fred into the small patch of forest and out of the field. Fred immediately felt safer. Arthur propped him up against a tree, the very tree that they had run into, and waved his hand in front of Fred's face. "You alright, Freddie?"
"George," he groaned. "George is hurt."
"You can't possibly know that. Let's just focus on getting out of here." Arthur cast a few charms on the broom, most of which were semi-illegal, and it levitated again. "Should last about an hour before it blows up."
Fred raised an eyebrow, but he said nothing and allowed himself to be positioned on the broom. Having sat up and caught his breath, he felt much better. He wanted to get to George as quickly as possible.
Expecting to be pursued more, Arthur and Fred proceeded with caution. To their shock, the sky was quiet. "Reckon they found the real Harry?" Fred asked, not wanting to know.
Arthur didn't answer. Fred swallowed hard.
Fred knew he should go to bed. He reckoned that George's bed was close enough. At least he was laying down. He didn't think he could sleep, even if he wanted to. George was clinging so tightly to him that he could barely breathe.
Matt never crushed him like this, Fred couldn't help himself but think. Not that he minded, he knew it was just because George was in pain, but his back was starting to hurt. It had been over a week since he had seen Matt. He was purposefully avoiding him. As much as he loved George, it was different around Matt. Fred missed him.
"Freddie?" George whispered.
"How long have you been awake?" Fred asked, startled.
"Just now. I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"I don't know. Everything."
"It's alright, sweet boy. Go back to sleep."