Grief

Chapter 3: The grief of those who have lost

"Excess of grief for the dead is madness; for it is an injury to the living and the dead know it not." John Adams

The air was warm and still, thick with the stench of detachment. Ginny felt as though she were miles away from her body and that she was merely observing herself walking along the lonely lane to the Burrow in the arms of her brother.

George was stunned into silence as he carried the weight of his tearful sister and the weight of despair. Never before had his light heart and wide eyes felt so downtrodden in the depths of depression.

In the distance the Burrow rose like a beacon of hope out of the darkness. The familiar sight, too, seemed immeasurably different. Only one light burned out of the many makeshift windows. It was a low, buttery yellow burning coming from the kitchen. As the two ebbed closer to the house, they both felt as though time stood still and that in the emptiness that was their new world, they would find comfort in the arms of their family.

Ginny now stood on her own two feet as she found her bearings. She dried her tear soaked cheeks and rushed at the wooden door as fast as her small body would carry her. She could feel George on her heels waiting for the door to be thrown open and them to be enveloped in the arms of their loving mother.

Ginny turned the knob and before opening the door she drew in a ragged breath and looked over her shoulder at the waiting George. He was not breathing, she could tell from the non-existent rise and fall of a steadily moving chest. She turned the knob and pushed on the door with all of the strength she had left in her.

She heard a noise from within and she drew in a deep intake of breath.

"Who is it?" a rough voice called from inside the house.

"Dad?" Ginny stuttered out. "It's Ginny… and George. We're home." Her voice was shaky and full of newly formed tears. Ginny felt a strong hand grab her shoulder and she knew it was George steadying himself. "Dad, is that you?"

"Yes Ginny, it's me." Suddenly she was enthralled in the arms of her father, Arthur. She felt his tears streak down her neck, and she too lost control and began to sob. Arthur let go of her and suddenly saw George. The two men threw their arms around each other and had a very tearful hello.

Ginny watched her father and brother and slowly let her eyes drift around the old, familiar kitchen. It was nearly pitch black in the room except for a single flame alight from a candle on the counter. Ginny picked up the candle and walked around the room looking at all the familiar sights.

She held the old candle up next to the clock that had shown the fate of her entire family at all times.

"Oh Ginny, it's been broken since I got home. Everyone is stuck on mortal peril." Arthur Weasley said as he put an arm around his only daughter.

"Well maybe we all are still in danger." Ginny said trying to comfort herself.

"No dear, that can't be." He took her hand and pulled her softly from the clock. He gestured to George to follow as he walked solemnly to the living room.

There, lying on the sofa, as if in asleep lay Fred.

"Fred?" Ginny called. She grasped her fathers hand harder as she began to feel dizzy.

Suddenly George pushed past her and rushed to the side of his twin. Never before in their lives had they spent more than ten minutes apart. Now they had spent the most agonizing day apart. He grasped his brother's shoulders and shook him violently, trying, with all his strength, to wake up the young ginger-haired man.

To no avail he called out his brother's name. "Fred! Fred, its George. Wake up!" He began to shake him again, crying as he cradled his brother's head in his arms. "Do you hear me Fred? It's me, George…. You're brother… you're twin…" Finally he collapsed against Fred's body and sobbed uncontrollably.

"Come on George, you should rest." George felt the arms of his father and sister pulling him away from the body of his beloved twin.

It was hard for George to accept the fact that he would never again joke and laugh with Fred. Fred was the only person that he could confess every last thought and emotion to. Fred was the only person who was always there. They had been placed together at birth, and who were they to separate themselves? He no longer felt complete without his other half. He was only half of a great duo. How was he to survive alone?

I want to thank all who have read this story and enjoyed it. This is not the end, I have many new ideas and hope to update soon. If you liked it please check out my other stories, Who are you, Amour Amongst the no good man, and the Fire within. You can find all of these stories if you go to my author page! Thank you!