Chapter Four: "Never Even Noticed..."
George shut the diary with a snap and breathed heavily, trying to absorbed the information he had just read. That particular entry had been dated the 9th of March, which was almost an entire year before. Fred had been struggling with this for almost a whole year at least and nobody had known about it. George closed his eyes and held the diary tightly between two hands. How could he not have known? He asked himself frantically. As he was thinking this he heard footsteps coming closer to his closed bedroom door. Quickly shoving the photographs and letters back into the shoebox he hesitated before throwing the diary back inside also. There was a knock at the door as he was stowing the shoebox underneath Fred's bed and George crossed to the other side of the room to answer it. It was Bill.
Bill stepped into the room and clapped George on the back. "Dinner time, little bro," he told George as he looked around the room in slight admiration, "wow, it's actually tidy," he marvelled before looking back to George.
"I'm not hungry," George told Bill, remembering the small explosion he had exhibited earlier and not feeling like facing the family.
Bill cocked his head, ponytail swinging as he did so, "you want me to bring you some food up?" he asked George.
George prepared himself to automatically respond with a 'no' but his stomach growled and he nodded, "thanks."
Bill looked as though he was about to say something but then he closed his mouth and clapped George on the back once more before turning around and exiting through the open door. George hadn't eaten in a while and he was actually very hungry. The smell of his mothers roast pork was wafting up the stairs making George want to run down the stairs, knock everyone out of the way and eat whatever he could find. But even thinking about running made him feel exhausted. He and Fred had always had the most energy of everyone in the family put together. Quidditch made them athletic but they each had a natural burst of energy that nothing could ever seem to subdue. Now, however, even the slightest walking up and down stairs made him feel like he could curl up and go to sleep. Not that he had slept much in the last week, George thought to himself bitterly as he lay down on his bed and closed his eyes.
About ten minutes later there was another knock at the door. George, feeling too exhausted even to open his eyes, merely said, "Come in."
The door creaked open and Hermione came in nervously, juggling a plate of food with one hand and some silverware in the other.
"Bill asked me to bring this up to you," she said quietly, setting the plate down on the bedside table next to George. George sighed. He knew he shouldn't have been so short with her before and he opened his eyes and sat up.
"Hermione," he called to her as she started towards the door. She turned around cautiously, half expecting him to blow up at her like he did earlier.
He sighed again, "I'm really sorry," he said apologetically, "I didn't mean to get so fiery."
Hermione smiled, "it's okay, George," she told him. Looking at him scrutinisingly she continued, "Everybody feels like you do, George," she said softly. Seeing him about to argue she continued a little louder to drown out any objections he was trying to voice, "you may be feeling the worst, I know a twin bond is very strong. But we all miss Fred," she finished, her voice cracking a little.
George had the grace to feel a little sheepish and he nodded, "I know," he said heavily. "It's just that..." he stopped, unsure of how to continue and Hermione looked at him, sorrow in her eyes.
"I'm not really sure how to..." George tried to continue unsuccessfully but Hermione understood.
"I know," she said gently, her lower lip trembling dangerously. Closing her eyes for a moment, she regained her composure before opening them again. Smiling, she was about to leave when she pulled a vial out of her pocket and turned back around to face George once again.
"Here," she said, holding out the small glass bottle for George to take. He accepted it from her, confused as to what it was.
"Put a drop into whatever you drink before you go to bed," she advised him, turning back toward the door once again. Before she exited she turned around one more time, "it will help you sleep." Shutting the door behind her with a soft click, Hermione went back down to the kitchen, her footsteps fading as she neared the bottom of the stairs. George stared at the vial he now held in his hand and sighed as he placed it next to the plate Hermione had just brought him.
Sleep. He had almost learned to live without it.
Now that he was alone once again his thoughts wandered back to his twin's diary. This was the answer to the question everyone had been asking every minute of their life for over a week. And now that George had this answer in his grasp he was unsure of whether or not he really wanted his questions answered after all.
Pushing himself off his bed he reached under the bed next to his, pulling the shoebox out of it's hiding place. Pulling off the lid he was relieved to see that the diary had not hidden itself once again but was sitting on the top of a photograph of himself, Fred, and Lee Jordan outside their shop. A huge banner was strung up over the door proclaiming the words 'Now Open'. George almost smiled as he remembered the day their joke shop was officially up and running. Lifting the diary off the photograph he closed the lid and took the diary over to his own bed where he sat down and stared at the cover, not wanting to open it yet wanting to know the secrets it held. Holding his breath, George opened the diary's cover and read what was written on the inside of the front cover. Sighing, George closed the small book, the words still fresh in his mind. Since the initial shock of reading what his twin had been writing about for over a year, George was not as surprised to read what was written in the front cover.
I see that you have found my diary, George. Well done. I know it is you reading it because I put a charm on the book to make sure nobody but you could read it. Well, brother, you are about to enter a very dangerous and scary place. My mind. I know you thought I was like you. I was for most of my life. But then I changed. I am sorry for any grief caused but it was something I had to do. I don't want you to read on, George. You were my brother, my twin, the best friend I ever had and your eyes do not deserve to see what you are about to see. But I knew you better than you thought you knew me and I know that nothing will stop you doing what you want. Make sure everyone knows they had nothing to do with it. You know what I mean.
Yours faithfully,
Your favourite brother, Fred.
Sighing, George opened the diary again, settling on the first page. His stomach felt as though it were tied in a huge knot and his heart was beating so fast he thought it might burst out of his chest entirely. But this was the only way he was ever going to know the truth. The date at the top of the page declared the entry to be written on the 21st of December 2003. Two years before.
"Oh, God," George whispered to himself as he began to read.
21st December 2003
What I thought was a simple 'down' has turned out to be so much more. I can't explain what I am feeling at the moment only that I have rarely felt this way before. I know I shouldn't be feeling like this; my life is great. Our store is up and running and the money we are bringing in is an astounding amount. I live with my brother, though. I have always done everything with him. I am not Fred. I am Fred and George. We are a package deal, we are. And I begin to think, "What will happen when we begin to grow older and need to separate. Will we be able to? Or will we be stuck together for the rest of our lives because we don't know it any other way?"
What will happen when it comes time for one of us to move on? I will marry Angelina one day. I must. I love her with all my heart even though that doesn't seem to be enough at the moment. My heart does not seem to be a great enough offer, as it barely feels my own. My mind and my heart are my most important features. They are the most important features of everyone, magic or muggle. But lately it feels as though I cannot use them, I cannot wield them my own way. What will happen when my very own mind and heart gives up on me and leaves me for dead? I cannot believe we only left Hogwarts last year. I must have grown up in that time because I feel so much older. I feel so much more mature. And most of the time I can feel myself ageing years ahead of my very own brother. Soon I will be so old that I will die of natural causes and George will still be so young. Young and naïve. Naivety will keep him safe. It will keep everyone safe. It even kept me safe for a while.
George stared at what he had just read, unable to go on. Shutting the diary with as much force as he could he ran out of the room and into the nearest bathroom where he emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. Since he had not eaten anything in days there was not much to throw up but he seemed to keep heaving no matter what came up. Soon he was sitting next to the toilet bowl, shaking almost uncontrollably. How could his very own twin feel that way without George even realising it? He vaguely wondered if Angelina had had any kind of idea about what Fred was constantly thinking. He doubted it.
... I am not Fred. I am Fred and George. We are a package deal, we are. And I begin to think, "What will happen when we begin to grow older and need to separate....
George found himself sinking further and further to the floor as all his energy escaped him. Soon he was lying flat on the tiled floor, unable to move as darkness swirled around him, engulfing his senses until he felt nothing.
He did not hear Mrs Weasley come upstairs to see who was so ill. He did not hear the door open or his mother scream when she found him. He did not feel himself being carried by Bill into his bedroom where he was placed on his bed. And he did not see Ginny pick up the diary from underneath him and try and open it to no avail.