A/N: Took me a bit longer than expected (had a midterm!), but here's the second chapter. There's more to come in this one and in "The Trouble With Being A Twin". I still cry when I think about Fred's death and George's sorrow, but writing this and realizing that he'll still live on in fanfiction has helped me deal. Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews for both stories. They're inspiring.
I'm also working on a companion piece to this one, from George's point of view. That one will be much darker.
Remember, reviews make me write.
The Other Side of Goodbye
Chapter Two: Going Home
"I never thought I'd die alone,
"I laughed the loudest; who'd have known?"
--"Adam's Song" Blink 182
Fred felt an unexpected wave of discomfort flow over him when the angel faded into the mist. A part of him wanted to get up and follow—he had never been good at being alone, especially in a strange place. An even larger part of him, however, wanted to stay and watch the whisp of cloud that was pretending to be he and George.
He would be true to his word. He would not enter the Gates without George, and if that meant he had to sit here, all alone for half of eternity, he would do it.
"Well, now, if it isn't Fred Weasley," came a bodiless voice.
Fred looked up, curious to see who the newcomer was. He did not recognize the voice, and he saw no one as he narrowed his eyes, searching. The last angel had told him that it would be somebody who could explain the situation, and he had supposed it would be somebody he had known in life. He half-expected a distant relative, or perhaps Uncle Fabian or Uncle Gideon.
He did not, however, expect to see James Potter materialize, standing against a cloud pillar, arms crossed over his chest and looking back at him as though they hadn't seen each other in years.
Fred could not think of a reply to Mr. Potter, and sat there, dumbfounded amongst the clouds.
James pushed off of the pillar with his shoulder and made to sit beside Fred. "I suppose seeing me is a bit odd."
"A bit," Fred agreed. "Not—not that I don't appreciate you coming here. It's just that… well, I don't know you and I didn't expect to see you here."
"Well, there is only one Heaven, Fred." James' eyes sparkled with mischief, which did not surprise Fred in the least. "Or, there's only one place such as the one we're in. The Go Between, I think it's called."
For his entire Hogwarts career, Fred had heard quite a deal about how he and George were the worst trouble-makers since James Potter and Sirius Black. The twins had always had a sneaking suspicion that James and Sirius had been involved with the Map, judging from all the talk of how smart and mischievous they had been. The Map version of Prongs had also sounded a bit like Harry when he was in a playful mood, Fred had thought just before they had handed it over to the young Potter.
Fred had thought about having a conversation with James, or rather, Prongs, many times, to ask how he had come up with the idea for the Map, and so many other hilarious things. But now that he was sitting there, dead, face-to-face with an equally dead man who happened to be the father of his youngest brother's best friend, he was at a loss for words.
"Er," he replied intelligently.
"Well said," James answered. He pulled his knees closer to his chest and pushed his glasses back up his nose, thinking out his next words carefully. "Bernard asked me to come here because I know you. I mean," he said at Fred's confused expression, "that I know who you are. I spend a good deal of my time watching Harry, and I've come to know you through him. You were a great friend to him, Fred, and I thank you for being a brother he never got a chance to have."
Fred could do nothing but nod.
"The thing is, Fred, that I enjoyed watching you and George. Reminded me a bit of Sirius and I back in our glory days. And… now you remind me of us even more." He looked saddened by this, and turned his gaze to his kneecaps. "When I died, I took it very hard. I had Lily with me, of course, but I was willing to forsake Heaven, to leave her here, if only I could go back and be with Harry, Sirius, and Remus. I was willing to give up my wings for them, just as you are for George."
Fred wished he could think of something to say. Anything at all. He was somewhere between uncomfortable and understanding of James' plight, but in all honesty he could not understand why Bernard the Angel had sent James Potter. He would have understood one of his murdered uncles, or perhaps even a distant ancestor, or a grandparent… not the angel of a man he had only seen in pictures in Harry's room, and heard about in fond memories of those who had been to Hogwarts before him.
James blinked what could best be described as watery eyes, though no tears fell, and looked at the redhead once more. "That is why Bernard sent me. Even though we are a generation apart and have never met… you and I share a great deal in common, Fred."
"We… we do?"
"We were both pranksters taken before our time. We left our loved ones behind. You left your family and your twin… I left my friends and my son."
"What about… what about the rest of your family? I mean, Harry's only got those awful—oh." He stopped suddenly when he realized that James' family must have met the same fate as he did.
James nodded slowly. "They were murdered not long before I was. They were killed by Death Eaters who wanted to know where Lily and I were." He swallowed.
Fred looked down. "I'm sorry."
James shrugged, looking a bit brighter. "Don't be. We're all together now, just waiting for Harry. I expect he'll be a while coming."
"Seems like, doesn't it?"
"That's my boy," James said, smiling warmly. "But enough about that. The matter at hand is your death, Fred, not mine. I was told to come here because I can help you in ways that others can't. Gideon and Fabian were both eager to come, but they wouldn't be much help since they, well, came together. They wouldn't understand what it was like to be… torn, the way you were. I can barely fathom it myself, but I do have some experience. I was torn from Harry and Sirius."
Fred bit back the urge to make a snide remark along the lines of that not being the same thing. Even a father stolen from his son could not comprehend one twin taken from another! He resisted, not wanting to insult the only angel who might be willing to help him find a way to return to his family.
"Now," said James, hopping to his feet, "We've got places to be."
"We do?"
James nodded, his messy hair toppling into his eyes. He blew it away anxiously and motioned for Fred to get up. Fred, somewhat reluctantly, got to his feet. When James reached for him, however, he took a quick step back.
"This isn't some sort of trick, is it?" he asked suspiciously.
James knit his brows together. "Pardon?"
"You're not going… to take me to Heaven, are you? Because I'm not going without—" Fred was abruptly cut off by the Marauder.
"No, no." He looked saddened again. "I'm taking you… I'm taking you home."
Why James looked so sad, Fred did not stop to think about. The mere mention of home brought a swell of emotions to his chest and his eyes burned with happy tears that could not fall. Perhaps Mr. Potter was going to help him find his way back. He stepped forward again and held up his arm for James to take a hold of.
The strange sensation that had brought him to the place that he best surmised to be the world between Earth and Heaven gripped him again, and Fred was happily falling through the clouds, Mr. Potter at his side.
When Fred fell face down in the thick, lush grass in the backyard of the Burrow, he could not remember a time when he had been happier. He never thought he would be so joyous to see the garden, where he had spent many horrible hours de-gnoming and weeding without magic when he and George had upset mum. He took only a split second to take it all in: the chickens, the Burrow's exterior, the shabby garden, and the trees that blocked their home from Muggle view.
After that split second, he sprinted across the lawn, faster than he had ever ran before. He wanted more than anything to rip open the back door, burst into the kitchen, and find his family at the table. He wanted to hug them all and dry their tears, to tell them he was home and not going anywhere ever again, even if they wanted him to. He wanted to apologize for the scare, and hug George until his ribcage cracked.
"Wait, Fred!"
Fred did not hear James call after him, and kept running until he was at the back door. He reached for the doorknob, but he could not turn it. Sighing in frustration, he walked through the door. It was a temporary glitch, he decided, and flicked the annoyance away like a doxy.
When Fred entered the kitchen, however, he was not met by the happy sight of his family tearing into breakfast. His mum was not putting hot plates on the table, and Ron was not scooping gigantic spoonfuls of potatoes from a bowl. Ginny was not nibbling at her toast with strawberry jam, and George was not fighting with Arthur for the tea. Errol was not stumbling across the table, knocking over goblets and getting feathers in everything.
In fact, there was nobody there, and it was so quiet that one would never have thought it was the home of the Weasleys.
This did not deter Fred in the least, however, and by the time James passed through the back door, Fred was already halfway up the stairs to his old bedroom. "Fred! FRED! Blast!" he ran after Fred, calling after him the entire time.
Fred passed through his bedroom door after several attempts to open it, and found that it was exactly how he remembered it: boxes were stacked everywhere, filled with joke shop supplies, a vase of flowers mum had put by the window, his bed still messy from his last stay in it. He whirled his vision around the room, searching for George. He was not there.
He darted through the wall, passing through Percy, Ginny, and Ron's rooms. Nobody. He tried his mother and father's room, but again found it lifeless.
James came through the wall suddenly and Fred turned to face him. His smile was still wide. "Where are they? I want to see them," he said to his comrade.
James shook his head. "They're not home yet."
Fred knit his brows in confusion. "I don't understand. Where else would they be?"
He took a deep breath, only for the sake of familiarity, and took an interest in Fred's sneakers. He shook his head and cast his glance back up into the face of the redheaded teen. "They're… they're at the funeral home, Fred."
If Fred had required breathing, he would have stopped. He gasped, but he did not feel air enter his lungs. He did his best to ignore this, and crossed his arms over his chest, his smile completely gone. He and James were standing on the landing of the second floor, and he looked down the staircase toward the living room.
"Funeral home?"
James nodded sympathetically and waited for Fred to say something. When he didn't, he said, "You've been dead for two days, Fred. They had to… make arrangements."
The weight of this information fell on Fred with crushing speed. It had seemed to him that he had not been gone all that long, but he supposed that time moved differently away from home. What had seemed like hours to him had been days to his family and friends. Again, he felt the need to cry, but this time he would not have let himself even if he had the ability. Instead, he fixed his sight on Mr. Potter.
"Then why did you bring me here?"
"They're on their way home. I know you want to see them—"
"Not when they're coming back from—from—that place! I wanted to see them happy and smiling, and tell them I'm fine—"
James shook his head as Fred ranted, and finally took a hold of Fred's shoulders, shaking him. "You're not fine Fred! You're dead! I can't help you until you realize that!"
Fred made to argue, but stopped short when he heard the front door open. He expected the familiar din that accompanied the Weasleys when they returned home from an outing, but all he heard was quiet. He wanted to bound down the stairs, but he could not make his feet carry him in the way he wanted them to. Instead, they took very slow steps down the stairs, one at a time, until he could see them as they came.
Dad was leading them in as usual, but rather than shouting at Ron for stepping on his heel or telling Ginny that cat was too expensive to buy, he looked hollow and exhausted. His eyes were red and puffy, his face tear-stained. Fred halted temporarily on the stairs, but took another step down, James following not far behind.
Mum came next, her arm around Ginny, who was wiping at her nose with her jumper sleeve. Mum seemed a bit more composed than the last time Fred had seen her, but not by much. Her semi-composure was short-lived, for when she spotted Fred's scarf, so carelessly tossed on top of his shoes by the door, she began to weep again.
Ron, Hermione, and Percy came next, much in the same manner as Dad. They seemed to be devoid of tears, as they had shed all that they could muster earlier. Percy looked even more serious than Fred had ever remembered him looking, which was definitely saying something. Ron was not watching where he was going, and had it not been for Hermione, who was guiding him, he would have bumped into Ginny. Hermione's eyes were shiny, and Fred held back a stab of surprise when she too took to crying upon seeing his abandoned scarf.
Bill and Fleur came after them. Fleur had tears glistening in her eyes, her head lying on Bill's upper arm as water dripped from his eyes silently. Charlie followed closely behind, trying to hold back tears and nearly tripping over the threshold. Harry stepped into the Burrow almost timidly, as if he expected the family to turn on him the instant he was in their domain, and curse him into oblivion.
Finally, there was George.
Fred came within two steps of the landing before he stopped again. He took in the sight of his twin, and could not bear the sorrow etched upon his features. Fred had only seen George sad a handful of times, and even those times it had not been as bad as it was now.
It was evident that George had not eaten since before the Battle of Hogwarts, and he had probably only changed his clothes upon his mother's insistence. He had also not slept, it appeared, and much like his father and a couple of his brothers, he had cried himself dry. He too saw Fred's scarf and shoes, and stopped in his tracks as he stared down at them. His eyes glazed over and he seemed frozen to the spot. He only moved when Harry closed the door, the sound snapping George from whatever reverie he had been in.
Nobody seemed to know what to do with themselves. Each alternately made movements to spread throughout the house, but thought better of it before they had taken more than a step. The group stood by the door, looking lost, for quite some time.
Ginny's sobs were the only sound.
"Come on, Fred," James whispered, touching his fingers on Fred's shoulders. He did not take them back to wherever they had been before. "You have to say goodbye now."
Fred barely registered the words as he looked down on those he had treasured above anything else. He swallowed and slowly turned to look at Mr. Potter. He shook his head, and James understood.
George was the first to break away from the group, and began to make his way toward Fred. Fred was so overcome by what he was seeing that he could not even fathom trying to contact George at the moment. George passed directly through him, glanced back for only a split second, and continued up the stairs. All living and angelic eyes were upon him as stood outside the bedroom he had shared with Fred, staring at the door as if it were a horrendously complex Runes translation.
He shook his head and turned, going up the stairs further. Fred knew he was headed for the attic. That was where he and George went to get away from the family if it was too stormy or they were too lazy to go down by the lake.
Fred collapsed to sit on the staircase, feeling worse than he ever had before.
"I'm dead," he whispered, finally realizing what he had known all along.