House: Slytherin
Category: Themed
Prompt: [Weather] Cloudy
Word Count (excluding A/N): 2143
A/N: For Jimmy, because sixteen is too young to die, and for everyone he left behind.
oO0Oo
"Fred!"
The anguish on George's face when he finally caught sight of his twin's pale, cold body was heart-wrenching. Lee watched helplessly as George sprinted to where Fred lay, surrounded by the Weasley family. Turning away from the sight of George sobbing over his brother's broken body, Lee swallowed hard, tears trickling silently down his own cheeks. He had been Fred and George's best friend, but he couldn't intrude upon what was clearly a family gathering. Right now, George needed his family's support. Later, he would offer his own.
So he stood apart from the people beside Fred's deathbed. Lee had always known they couldn't all survive. Logically, he had always known that someone would die, but he just hadn't thought that it would leave him feeling this empty, this utterly hollow. Fred had vanished from his life, taking with him something that Lee knew he'd never get back, and that realization hit him hard. He could feel the void sucking away his emotions, and even the few tears which tracked silent paths down his cheeks felt unreal. Yet compared to George's heart-rending sobs, Lee knew he must seem like a statue to the onlookers.
When the crowd dispersed, Lee stepped forward. "It's going to be okay," he said quietly as he placed one arm around George's shoulder.
George turned away. "No, it's not. It will never be okay again," he said quietly, and at those words Lee felt a cold, sinking feeling in his stomach. "Please leave."
But Lee knew that wasn't what George really wanted, just as he knew that if he offered his condolences, George would only fall deeper into his depression. What was necessary was humor. So although it was hard for him, he said, "Well, I hope you can put aside your beautiful bright Weasley jumpers and wear black from now on, Forge." Maybe that would cheer him up.
But he was wrong. George spun at him, his eyes red and puffy as he shouted, "Shut up Lee! Just— shut up!" He took a deep, ragged breath, then said haltingly, "Please, just leave."
Taken aback, Lee did just that: he walked away. When George needed him, though, he'd be waiting. He had stood by his side, and now he was standing by for a call.
But George never called. At first, Lee thought it was just how many happy memories they'd shared that led him to do that. It hurt him more to see George, given how much he and Fred had looked alike, but he also understood that the gaping emptiness he felt was unlike George's grief. But if he was healing, George was too; at least, that's what he had thought. He supposed he would see George at Fred's funeral later on that day and finally speak with him again, for in the past week, George had probably recovered. However, as Lee was searching for a pair of black dress robes, he received an owl from Molly Weasley.
"Come to the Burrow," read the note, hurriedly penned and splattered with desperate blotches of ink. "George needs you."
Lee read the note quickly, fed the rumpled old owl some owl treats and gave him a small bowl of water, then tossed a pinch of Floo powder into the roaring fireplace and shouted, "The Burrow!" After a sickening swirl of emerald flames, he appeared in the familiar kitchen and found Mrs. Weasley waiting for him.
"Take this." she said, thrusting a loaded picnic basket into his hand. "George isn't eating and he's been moping in his room ever since Fred… died." He saw her glance briefly up to the wall; following her gaze, he saw the small shrine for the fallen clock hand reading 'Fred' beside the monstrous clock. The clock hand labelled 'George' pointed toward the the section very simply labelled, Sad. The label seemed woefully inadequate for the true agony he knew George had to be living through. When Molly looked back at him, a determined gleam was in her eye. "You're his friend. Help him."
Lee nodded hard, gulping a little but lifting his chin also at the challenge. "I'll try my best, Mrs. Weasley. But…"
"Please, Lee, just help him," she said again, desperation in her voice, and Lee saw just how deeply the wrinkles and bags under her horribly blood-shot eyes went, as if she hadn't been sleeping, and just how tired and frazzled the normally motherly and put-together matriarch of the Weasley family was. "I've already lost one son. I can't lose another."
Swallowing hard, Lee took the hamper from her and put a hand on her arm. "I understand," he said. "And I will." After giving her a bone-crushing hug, he started up the stairs.
When he approached Fred and George's room, the familiar door was smaller than he remembered and far more worn. Never before had he felt unwanted in the Weasley home, but looking at that stained, battered door, Lee knew everything was different now. Before, shrieks and explosions had come from behind that door; now, it was silent. Lee sighed, then raised his hand and gave his signature knock. Rat ta ta tat titta titta titta tat! he finished with a flourish.
But no one came running to the door. In fact, no one came at all.
So Lee was forced to employ more mundane methods to gain access. After an alohomora and various other creative spells failed to let him in, he resorted to picking the lock like a muggle. The door finally flew open with a triumphant click, but the memory brought back a moment when he, Fred, and George had used that Muggle trick to break into an Order meeting, and that brought back a whole host of feelings.
Fred.
But Lee pushed his sorrow away, just as he had been for the past week. He would grieve later, not now. Right now, George needed him.
He was right George needed him. He just hadn't realized how much. Stepping into the room, he saw that the curtains were closed tightly against the light, and George lay on the bed in the dark, staring up at the ceiling.
"George?" Lee said softly, walking up to the pale body on the bed and wondering if he was already too late.
But he was proven wrong when George asked, his voice rusty from disuse, "Why are you here?"
"To cheer you up," Lee answered bluntly, throwing open the curtains to let in the light. It was sunny yet cloudy outside, the bright sunshine masked and muffled by the clouds, but any natural light would do George good. "Come on George, we won the Final Battle. Voldemort is dead. The Death Eaters are gone. We don't have to hide anymore. It's time to live."
George regarded him with a haggard gaze. "Live," he said, his voice flat. "Don't you see the world around us? Its grey, dismal, dark now that— now that—"
"Fred is dead," Lee said flatly, voice brooking no argument.
"Yes!" George spat eyes agleam maniacally. "Maybe the sun has come out for everyone else in this godforsaken world, but for me, everything is muffled, darker, because even though we might have won, I lost because Fred is gone. I don't care how warm and beautiful and clear the sunshine is — Fred is gone, and that's more than enough to cast clouds over any sunny day!"
Lee swallowed hard before replying. "George, I know it's hard."
"You think you know?" George cried. "Every time I look in the mirror, I see him, and it's like a serrated knife running through my heart. I loved him. He was my twin, my brother, my best friend. He didn't deserve this! He should be by my side, laughing; he shouldn't be cold, hard, dead, decomposing. My parents didn't deserve to lose Fred, and neither did I."
"Then what about me?" Lee looked at George hard and straight in the eyes. "What do I deserve? Come out of your fog, George! Maybe the sun has come out for others, but I loved Fred just as much as you. The three of us were best friends. He might not have been my brother in blood, but in every other way that mattered, he was. So stop wallowing in self-pity and listen to me!" Tears were running freely. "I've already lost Fred, and I won't lose you too. I couldn't survive that. Best friends stand together in good times and in bad — you're not the only one grieving, George! That's why we're going to the funeral together. Not to say goodbye to Fred, but to remind everyone else who is hurting that there is still a light behind those dark clouds."
George nodded slowly. "But I can't. I'm not strong enough."
"You are," Lee replied. "Together, we are. We've been together through the good times and the bad, George. I was beside you when we pulled our first prank,when you asked Katie Bell to the Yule ball, and more. We served our detentions together, fought together, ran Potterwatch together. And now that we've both lost Fred… this may be the darkest of times and maybe the pain clouds your mind, but remember that together, we are strong." He lowered his voice. "Furthermore, your mother needs you. Your family needs you. They've already lost one twin, George. They can't lose the other."
Georges eyes were now resolute. "You're right," he said. "You're right."
"Good. I'm going to transfigure some of your sheets into dress robes, and after the funeral, I'll grab some stuff from my flat. Your mom said I could stay the night here, if that's okay with you."
"Of course," George said.
"Then let's get ready for the funeral."
George paused. "Wait, that's today?"
"It's in a couple hours!" Lee replied, shaking his head at his friend's utter shock.
"Oh goodness…" George moaned. He staggered to his feet towards the tiny bathroom — as he opened the door, Lee noted the mirror inside was broken.
A few hours later, the two emerged from Fred and George's room clad in black dress robes and walked down to the lawn where the family waited. They all solemnly took a portkey to Hogwarts, and then Molly Weasley confidently took them through the mass graveyard, her steps sure as she picked out Fred's tombstone among the hundreds of others. How many times she must have been here before, Lee thought, if she was able to find her way to Fred's grave without pausing?
The service was short and solemn, held beneath the cloudy skies. A mass of black-robed people stood in silent mourning as, one by one, the Weasley family remembered Fred and explained just what they would miss the most about him. When Lee couldn't bear to watch Mr. Weasley trying to speak of his lost son, the pain in his voice all too evident, he glanced away, and a small sparkle caught his eye. In one corner, there sat a Pensieve, and beside it a card which read: "Please place your favorite memory of Fred here."
He would have to do that. But when the Weasley family finished talking, the guests immediately began dropping their memories of Fred into the Pensieve, and by the time they were gone and only the Lee and the Weasley family remained, Lee was far too exhausted from giving false smiles. If he thought of Fred one more time, he was certain he was going to burst into tears.
Yet when George remained by Fred's tombstone even when the rest of his family was leaving, Lee knew that he should stay with George. Both of them had known Fred best; both of them had one last respect to pay in private. Yet as they stood there beside the white tombstone, looking down at the grave through cloudy, teary, fogged vision, ready to say goodbye and apologize for letting him die, a sunbeam suddenly struck the tombstone, illuminating it with almost an otherworldly gleam.
George was beside him, standing shoulder to shoulder, and he lifted his head suddenly. "Fred?" he said, almost unbelievingly.
The tombstone began to glow even brighter, and George smiled so hard and hugged the tombstone. "Fred, come back, we need you, please come back."
The tombstone seemed to dim slightly, and Lee placed a hand on George's shoulder. "Fred can't come back," he said softly. "But I think he's saying that he wants us to be happy."
George looked up into the sunlight. "You're right," he murmured, his eyes wide. "Fred wouldn't want this." Then, stronger, "We've got to leave the clouds behind us, Lee."
"We will," Lee answered. "And we'll do it together, because that's the way Fred would want it." He helped George to his feet, and together they turned and walked away from the shadows, back towards the light.