Just a short FredGeorge story, because apparently I'm a masochist.
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, this story wouldn't be necessary.
He doesn't want to be alone at the shop where everything is so FRED. He lets Bill and Charlie half carry, half drag him up the stairs at the Burrow. He doesn't have the will to move his own legs. It feels like his independence left when half of him died.
He crawls into Fred's bed and faces the wall, his mind is blank, he feels numb.
He gets up, when he looks out of the window he sees the sun is setting, orange streaks the sky.
"Freddie?" he whispers.
He grabs the nearest jumper and shoves it over his head with unnecessary force. Seeing a movement from the corner of his eye he turns, fully expecting his twin to be stood there. He isn't, and George feels numb.
He goes downstairs, the Burrow is unusually quiet. Only a lone figure sits at the table, her back to the stairs.
"It doesn't seem real does it?" Her usually strong voice breaking, he is quiet as he takes the seat opposite her. His mother. They sit in silence until the kitchen is dark, where they weep in each other's arms until dawn. The only thing that comforts them is knowing how much the other is hurting.
For the first month, they only speak to each other, they only speak about him.
She's happier he realises, when she has grandchildren around her more than any other time. The only thing he wants from this life is to make his mother happy.