Summary: George Weasley is a broken man; half of him is lost. Can anyone or anything fix this broken heart?
Catch and Release
Prologue
He wasn't sure when it happened. All he knew was that one minute, they were side-by-side, shoulders touching, and then nothing. One minute he was there and then, in the chaos of the battle, in between errant spells, dementor attacks, and the bumbling of opponents, they were separated. He'd thought about calling out for his brother, but he didn't want to draw any undue attention to himself or to Fred. So, in the brief moment he had to think about all of it, before the Death Eater he was battling against shot another spell at him, George decided to continue the battle. He'd find Fred, and the rest of his family, once all of the insanity was over.
It was an intense battle. People ran all of the place. Curses, hexes, jinxes, and the like came from all directions. George had to be completely focused on the present moment, and the sights and sounds right before him if he was going to survive it. It was all he could manage; he couldn't worry about the rest of his family and his friends. Surely, they would all be okay.
George quickly ducked out of the way as a curse from one of the Death Eaters across from him nearly took his remaining ear off. As he was on his knees, catching his breath in a momentary reprieve, he suddenly felt an intense pain ripple across his chest. Immediately George began searching his robes, looking for the mark the spell had made. The pain was intense, but he hadn't immediately died so the hex or curse or whatever it was couldn't have been that bad.
However, there wasn't a mark on him. He hadn't been hit. Something was causing him pain, but it hadn't been a spell sent by a Death Eater.
George returned to a standing position, firing off stunning, shielding, and disarming charms at the group arranged before him. The initial pain began to ebb as the mind-clearing chill of battle once again engulfed the young man. George was solely focused on the line of enemies standing before him. Whatever had hurt him no longer mattered.
But then it happened again. More intense and painful. It knocked him off his feet, sent him tumbling to his knees. Later, he would learn that at that exact moment one of the Death Eaters had sent a killing curse at him that had only missed because George had fallen. The pain had saved his life, though as it exploded throughout his chest, he wasn't sure that was what it was doing.
George lay on the ground, overcome with pain. The Death Eater, thinking his curse had met it's mark, moved on and left George. The others followed. The battle raged on; there were other witches and wizards still up for the fight. There was no point standing over the supposedly dead George Weasley.
He was lucky that no one came to investigate and just left him. He wasn't in a fit state to battle and if a Death Eater came, he was sure he'd be a goner. Though, as he thought about that, another thought that dying wouldn't be such a bad thing at the present moment passed his mind. Whatever this pain was, it felt like he was already slowly dying.
It took George what felt like hours, but was probably only about thirty minutes, before he could stand once more. In that time, he lay on the ground, clutching at his chest. It felt like someone had blasted a hole through it, but George didn't have a mark on him. He had no idea what the source of the pain was. In those thirty minutes George only had the experience of the pain to contend with and nothing else.
When the pain finally subsided, George slowly worked himself up to a sitting position. Slowly, his senses returned to him, and he became aware of the fact that the battle seemed to have ceased. George didn't know what had happened. If there was a victor, or who that victor was, George couldn't say. Bodies and destruction lay all about him, but the images before him didn't provide a clue.
George stood, a little uneasily. Now that the pain was gone, his mind turned to finding his family. He didn't see anyone he recognized near him, which he thought was a good sign. But he needed to find them, to put his eyes upon them, to be entirely sure that they were all safe.
Not sure if his side was victorious, or if the battle was still going on, George raised his wand and then slowly began limping towards the castle. He could see light coming from within and hear hushed voices. Hopefully, George thought, that meant sanctuary.
It took him several minutes, his one leg apparently injured at some point George couldn't quite recollect, for George to finally reach the source of the light. Candles had been lit in the Great Hall. Students, staff, and members of the Order of the Phoenix ambled around the large room. They looked exhausted, many of them injured, but there were also looks of triumph, of victory, of contentment. George knew, as he took in the faces in the Great Hall that somehow Voldemort and his supporters had been defeated.
He lowered his wand, no longer feeling the need to protect himself, and began to limp through the Great Hall. It seemed to have been turned into a makeshift morgue and hospital. The Hogwarts matron, as well as some healers from St. Mungo's who had joined the battle, were busy healing the injuries that weren't too serious. As well, those that weren't injured, or had only a few minor injuries, were sitting around the Great Hall resting. Though they had beaten their enemy and won the battle, no one was particularly celebratory. It had been too difficult a battle and they'd paid a fairly high cost.
Then George saw them, collected off to one side in a small huddle. From their posture, the way they were standing around, and they way that his mother was sobbing, told George that something absolutely awful had happened. He quickly scanned the faces of his gathered family for the one he knew better than any other, but he didn't find it.
His heart sank. He caught his father's eye and the look on the elder Weasley's face broke it.
George couldn't believe it. He had felt it the moment it had happened. It was to be expected. Wouldn't you feel something when your other half was torn away from you? Wouldn't you feel something when the person you had spent your entire life and then some was suddenly snuffed out like a light? George had felt it the moment it had happened and it had nearly broken him. An unbearable pain ripped through him, tearing him in half.