Angels
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Yup.
Genre: Angst/Comfort/Tragedy
Summary: A week after Fred's death Harry and George remember…
Characters: George Weasley, Harry Potter
Pairings: None (Though could be interpreted as Harry/George-but that wasn't my intent)
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the band Jimmy eat World.
A/N: A sob story, songfic to the beautiful song "Hear you me" by Jimmy Eat World. If you haven't heard it, youtube it and listen to it. NOW!
Ahem….anyhoo could be interpreted as having George/Harry hints, but this was only supposed to be a brotherly relationship. But I don't mind, see it as you will!
Elledreamer: Weasleys do indeed rock! and thanks for the reviews! hugs
fiction by cereza: Glad you like it! I'll be writing fluff for days after this chapter, writing it depressed me.
MBP: Thanks! And I also had trouble accepting that couple, but it's grown on me.
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The wind is cold against his skin, it whistles around him, lifting his ebony hair and nipping at his fingers and nose. The sky however is quite clear, the white sun dancing across the frosty puddles.
The man runs a long fingered hand along the list of names engraved in stone, feeling each curve of the letters as if he were blind. The list of people who had died to save him, who had helped him, who had given all they had so that he could carry on living.
And he hadn't been able to tell them all how much that meant to him, because before he could they were gone.
The silence falls in on him, crushing him.
There's no one in
town I know
You gave us some place to go.
I never said thank
you for that.
I thought I might get one more chance.
Harry feels a hot prickling behind his eyes. He squeezes them closed and lets the tears trickle freely down his cheeks, burning against his stony cold skin.
He feels someone move beside him. He turns, already knowing who he'll see. George Weasley stands stock still staring at the names on the towering statue. His eyes run down the list, stopping about half way down. Fred Weasley (Apr. 1, 1978 - May 2, 1998).
What would you think
of me now,
so lucky, so strong, so proud?
I never said thank
you for that,
now I'll never have a chance.
Harry feels rather then hears George losing his composure. He reaches out both his arms and winds them around the sobbing man in front of him. He expects George to pull away but instead feels him grab fistfuls of Harry's robes and pull him closer, hot, wet tears sinking into the fabric. Maybe George needs to remember what it was like to be so close to someone.
May angels lead you in.
Hear you me my friends.
On
sleepless roads the sleepless go.
May angels lead you in.
They stand there for a while, just the two of them, wrapped around each other. Unaware that the sun has retired behind the heavy, gathering clouds and that wispy, white snow has begun to fall.
They break apart and Harry stares straight into George's glistening blue eyes. George gives him a watery half-grin and tries to laugh but it twists into a half sob and he hangs his head, fighting back tears.
Harry swings an arm around the other man's shoulders and feels George do the same and they stare in quiet respect at the list of the dead.
And if you were with
me tonight,
I'd sing to you just one more time.
A song for a
heart so big,
god wouldn't let it live.
Harry begins to shiver and George snaps out of his trance. They turn, slowly and begin the walk back to the burrow, arms still flung around each others shoulders, trudging off into the deepening snow.
May angels lead you in.