Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and will never make any money out of this WHATSOEVER!
A/N: After the War the Weasley family are reeling from Fred's death, from the point of view of George, Ron and Percy – following the twists and turns of their life as they learn to live without. NOT SLASH! Rated M for some explicit language and dark themes. Will contain references to self-harm and suicide, so could be triggering. Keep yourself safe and I hope you enjoy :)
This Chapter is in George's POV.
I raked through the drawer on the right hand side of the writing desk for a pair of tweezers; I rummaged in the back of the drawer until my fingers found the cold metal of the set of tweezers. The bottom of my foot was covered in a layer of reddish-brown dried blood, and bright red blood was oozing out of a cut that had a white piece of china impaled into it. I tried to fasten the ends of the tweezers onto the fragments of broken cup that I had evidently stood on after throwing it at Ron. The metal clinked lightly as it made contact with the china and I pulled hard; I brought the tweezers up to my face with the blood stained china still held between the two prongs of metal and examined it intensely. It was a particularly long, sharp fragment; I was extremely surprised that it hadn't hurt when I stood on it. In my preoccupation with the slice that I had pulled out of my foot, I hadn't realised that the cut I had removed the foreign body from was bubbling with red blood. I laid the tweezers and china down on the writing desk – I was now staring fascinated as the blood swelled into a bubble and then burst, sending a long thin trickle of blood down the rest of my foot and eventually dripping off onto the floor. I did nothing to stem the flow, and turned my attention to the shattered mess of broken cups near the door. I knew I should clean that up to prevent the impalement of the same, or the other, foot – but at this very moment I could hardly muster up the energy to get up from the chair that I had sat down upon. The questions that Ron had asked me were still ringing in my head; 'When was the last time you slept?', 'When did you last eat?', 'You haven't tried to kill yourself or anything like that?'. I could hear the way I had contemptuously answered all of his questions – and felt oddly guilty, the look of concern on Ron's face was evidence enough that the family were worried that I might do something stupid… like Percy had.
I couldn't get my head around that – Percy… Percy? I couldn't imagine Percy doing anything like… like that. Ron said dad had found him and taken him to St. Mungos, so it sounded as though whatever he had done was serious. I wondered exactly what he had done… I sat buried in my thoughts about Percy, and considering just why he had ended up like that. He wasn't the one who had lost part of himself…
'But does that make it worse?' A little voice inside my head whispered, 'Just because he was your twin does that make the feeling worse for you than it should for Percy? He was Percy's brother too…' I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, and kept them closed until I could see shooting white lights behind my eyelids.
'Percy couldn't possibly miss him as much as I do.' I thought, 'Percy had hardly seen him, Percy didn't think the two of us were worth bothering about.'
'That doesn't mean he didn't care at all, his priorities were different…' The little voice was talking to me again; it felt like it was whispering from the very depth of my brain, right at the back of my skull. 'George, you're being pathetic! Yes, it's hard for you. Of course you're hurting! But you're not the only person to have felt like this!' That little voice spoke sense; but it was telling me exactly what I didn't want to hear. I blocked it out, my own thoughts louder to drown it out completely:
'No. None of them can know how I'm feeling… They don't know what this is like. They don't understand how I feel! They don't understand that it's like being cut in half… They don't know how lonely it feels to be the one left from two…'
Without realising what I was doing, I had stood up and walked over to the window. I stared out into the indigo night sky, perching myself of the bed; leaving the mass of broken china by the door and a puddle of drying blood next to the writing desk. It was going to be a long night…
A/N: I'm sorry it's taken me a while to upload this chapter, and I'm sorry it's so short – but uni work has kept me busy the past week! I have a great idea for the next chapter though, so I'll try and upload it in the next couple of days! I'd love to know what you think about this story! :)