'Hope you enjoy reading this story which will be in 6 parts =]
Don't hesitate to tell me what you think!
ElieNP
George tightened his embrace around her before carefully making them both get up. "Then we're going to see him," he replied.
She nodded, not caring that the visiting hours were long over. Stupid rules wouldn't keep her away from her friend.
George handed her one of Fred's sweater, put on one of his own and summoned their shoes. Hermione looked so frail in his brother's clothes, it made his heart clench painfully.
"Ready?" A slight shake of the head was the sole answer he got, and needed to be certain breaking the rules really didn't matter to any of them.
Hermione was the one who took his hand to transport them to the hospital. At night the place was calm, you could even say peaceful if you succeeded in forgetting the injured, disabled, sick or dying people who were resting between its walls.
They both couldn't.
How many people were waiting for their fate to be decided? How many people would never escape from this place? Fred wouldn't belong to them. Life was unfair, Hermione was well aware of that certainty – she'd already witnessed the fact after all – but this time fate wouldn't have the last word. As long as she, George and everyone else who deeply loved Fred were willing to fight, victory would be on their side.
They slowly walked to Fred's room. His head couldn't be missed among the whiteness of the sheets. Peacefully sleeping he seemed to be, as if he'd soon wake up, make fun of them for looking so out-of-their-shoes. He'd give George a huge slap in the back before hugging him. He'd do the same with Hermione, save for the slap which they all knew he'd never dare try on her.
"Come on." George nudged her to move, doubting he'd be able to enter first.
They had to be realistic, he wouldn't wake up in front of their eyes only because their heart craved for it to happen.
Though she didn't feel like going in, Hermione's hand went to the doorknob.
Her mind and body seemed to be disconnected. Her hands were shaking, her feet stumbled over nothing and her bottom almost missed the chair by his bed. No ghost of a smile appeared on George's face for he was the same mess, unable to walk straight, to focus on anything else but his brother, he almost sat down on Hermione's lap.
The atmosphere was eerie. Fred's presence was oppressive. Oppressive and threatening, as it'd been, behind the false safety, in Hermione's dream.
"Don't like that," she said under her breath.
George acquiesced. Something was wrong. The man in front of him was his brother, and yet it felt as if it wasn't him, as if somebody else had taken his place. He moved his chair closer to Hermione. His fears were progressively confirmed. From the beginning they'd been missing something.
Hermione tightly grabbed his hand, feeling he was going to say words which would be of a great importance, one she was certain she wouldn't like.
"What's happening?"
He entwined his fingers with hers and squeezed them gently.
"He isn't-"
"No." The fierce whisper didn't surprise him. He'd expected her to understand the situation now that her terror had back away a little. Hermione was clever enough to solve the puzzle of which they'd finally found the main pieces.
"The curse is only becoming stronger and stronger as time goes by. Soon, it'll be too late to save Fred," she stated the obvious.
'If it isn't already too late,' George thought.
For three months they'd thought they were fighting fate and health, for three months they'd been certain Fred was winning the battle, surviving, coming closer to recovery. Now they finally realised how wrong they had been. The fight wasn't so easy. Fate, health and magic were tangling up in this game nobody knew the rules of.
"Do you think-"
"I don't know," Hermione cut him off without any dryness. "I don't know, I've never considered the fact it could be such a tough curse, serious to that extent. I've been stupid but it was so similar to some muggle sickness, you wait for an eternity and then the person is back."
"Except muggles didn't have to face magical sickness."
"This fight is really unfair."
Hermione buried her head in her hands, not once breaking the contact with George.
"Unfair, unfair," she repeated. "There is nothing we can do. The curse is becoming stronger and stronger, when we only get weaker and weaker. It's even influencing us, my dreams at least." Tears were flowing on her cheeks.
Reality was hitting her hard. Fred could already be lost for all they knew, without anything to reverse the situation. What if their Fred was gone, replaced by a fake who was waiting in the shadows for them to be at their breaking point before striking the final blow.
"We've been naïve."
They both agreed with George's words. After their victory over Voldemort they'd obviously thought everything would be within their reach. They had preserved the safety of their world, to preserve a human life wouldn't be different. Again, they couldn't have been more wrong.
"What are we going to do?" Hermione's murmur rang like a scream of despair.
They were the only ones to know, probably the only ones who would consider such a possibility to be true. The rest of the Wesley family, plus Harry and Fred's close friends, would never want to even think about it.
"It's impossible to do nothing," George continued their half-silent conversation. "Who knows how he'll be, what will be left of him when he wakes up."
Hermione shivered at the idea of Fred not being Fred any more. Same appearance, different personality, same body, different feelings. The shivers worsened and soon she was shaking uncontrollably. George silently hugged her, counting on the proximity to prevent them both from losing all self-control.
It was time to make a choice. Time to decide to be strong for Fred, or weak enough to yield to the masquerade which would, sooner or later, start.
To live without living, to be there and absent at the same time. Were he aware of that, Fred would loath such a pitiful life.
George tightened his hold around his friend.
"Hermione?" His voice was soft, still it held an edge she immediately grew wary of.
She slightly moved back to look at him in the eyes. "Yes?" There were tears in the blue pearls staring back at her.
"Don't you think it'd be better if... he'd be better off... if he... if we..." Albeit he'd thought about it many times, he couldn't bring himself to say it aloud. He deeply inhaled, searching courage where there was no much left. "Don't you think, we own him..." He buried his head in the crook of her neck, muffling the terrible words in her skin, half-hoping she'd not catch them.
But the edge in his voice, the tears in his eyes, his difficulty to speak, the whole situation in fact had Hermione on her guard. Attentive to the smallest detail she didn't miss the capital word. One word, sufficient to definitely solve the puzzle.
"Wouldn't he be happier dead?" she said slowly.
George tensed against her, waiting for her reaction, fearing he might have lost her trust, respect and friendship. Who would want to be friend with a monster? To his surprise, she didn't jerked out of his arms, nor did she scream at him or punch him. Instead, she gently stroked his back.
"He certainly would," she finally admitted in a breath.
Tears were flooding their faces. To save him they'd have to end his life.
"When?" Hermione asked once theirs sobs had sufficiently weakened for her to speak and him to hear her.
He shrugged. Immediately was impossible. They wouldn't have the guts to do it. Besides, their exhaustion and pain were too high for their mind to be clear. They might be missing another solution.
They couldn't take the risk.
"We should rest, by that I mean a good rest, as much as we can. Then we will talk about it again."
Though he'd succeeded in voicing a full sentence, his words held no confidence. It was up to Hermione to choose. "You're right," she agreed. No confidence didn't mean his words were irrational. To rest was the best thing they could do to lessen the risks of making the biggest mistake of their life.
"I'm..." George hesitated a little before speaking his mind. "I'm relieved to have shared my thoughts with somebody, with you to be honest. It was becoming... I mean, I'm not ashamed and yet it's true saying it... I mean the idea has been-"
"Eating away at you?" Hermione offered to complete.
He nodded.
"I don't want to go back to the Burrow. Over there he is everywhere," Hermione softly murmured.
"The same goes for the shop."
"Isn't there any place where we would feel, well, less burdened?"
Still in each other's embrace, Hermione's voice was slightly muffled by George's sweater.
"I don't know. Neither friends' place nor family's."
"Muggle world?" she proposed after several seconds. "Fred's never been there or so I think." She gave George an interrogative look.
Knowing the twins it wouldn't be very surprising to learn they'd gone on some trips in her native world without telling anyone. George smiled a little, full aware of her thoughts, then shook his head.
"No, there were too many things to do and to discover in our world. To be honest, we've never really thought about spending time in yours."
"Good news for muggles," she joked.
He chuckled in response. Peacefulness before the storm. Frowns soon came back on their faces.
"We could stay at your place, your parents aren't there if I remember well."
"I'd rather not. I've pictures of us there, and the place is too familiar. It'll bring back memories."
"Yeah, sounds logical," George agreed feeling stupid to have made this proposition.
"But we have enough money to get a hotel room. One or two nights, more if necessary," she added, lowering her eyes to her trembling fingers.
She frowned, not liking the feeling in her muscles. Exhaustion was taking its toll on them. One or two nights wouldn't be enough to be fully rested, but it was better than nothing. And money wasn't a problem. The sole issue they'd certainly have to face was Mrs Weasley. She wouldn't understand why they needed the isolation. Solidarity was to her the best thing to fight their sorrow, a solidarity which could only be expressed when they were all together. Unfortunately, there wasn't only one way to fight such a situation, and their way, right now, couldn't match with hers any more.
"We'll write the others a note and take our leave without seeing them. I'd advise we go now. What better time than the middle of the night to avoid any question?
Hermione disliked the idea, yet she knew George's plan was the right thing to do. He got up, once again raising her with him. Discretion and speed would be their best weapons, plus George's perfect knowledge about all the spells and curses which protected his house of course. Unknown to most of people, even the Weasleys themselves didn't know them all for many had been added to the list when the occasion had aroused – after surprising discoveries, worrying acknowledgement of flaws in their defence – however these modifications had rarely been shared, voluntarily or not.
Most of the time, the twins had come up with new protections they'd set up in secrecy, either because their idea was illegal or – though it could also be both – would rouse too much interest from undesirable people – mostly the Ministry.
Setting up their own security solutions, they'd progressively discovered – often at their own cost – the other ones. It'd become a challenge to find them all. It'd taken them many long hours out in the dark, in the cold, many injuries, temporary deafness, strange tails or horns, duplication or disappearance of some of their limbs and some other pleasant surprises, but they'd finally deemed it acceptable to say, a little before the beginning of the war, that their house had nothing left to hide from them.
Thus it was very easy for George to make them enter and leave the house without setting off the numerous alarms.
They didn't need to bring many things, a set of spared clothes, money and their wands – they could always be useful, couldn't they?
The Burrow was quiet, all its inhabitants probably sound asleep at such a late, or early it depended on your habits, hour. In no time, they'd packed up and were heading to Muggle Berlin. They'd purposely chosen a city Fred never talked about. They were also certain people wouldn't think about searching them in Germany. They had no links with this country, no reasons to go over there.
The building they went in looked quite decent and offered affordable prices. They'd share a room, they didn't want to be alone, for loneliness and rest didn't work well together. Nevertheless, they chose one with separated beds. Before the war it'd been hard for them to peacefully sleep together, now that they both had violent nightmares, their unconscious fights would certainly be an insurmountable obstacle.
Hermione collapsed on a bed, not caring about being far away from the window or some other futilities. George merely got rid of his sweater and shirt before slipping under the covers. She simply frowned about the fact that, topless, he might catch a cold, but to bicker about it didn't belong to her plans and soon the idea left her mind.
She made a hug effort to get up, the bathroom went prior to the comfortable perspective of imitating George.
She quickly changed into her pyjamas, a loose tee-shirt which had once belonged to Harry and a pair of shorts. She brushed her teeth and hair. Would it have been in her habits she'd even have applied some beauty cream on her skin. The calm which reigned in the small room was soothing her nerves. It was necessary for her to switch her mind off to make the most of the next hours. She'd reluctantly accepted not to bring any books, though it usually allowed her to travel elsewhere, the risk was too great for them to hold something her mind would associate with Fred or memories she had with him.
She took several deep breaths then decided she could go. Not totally numb yet, the rhythm of her mind was slow enough to allow her to close her eyes without images of her previous nightmares washing over her.
The sight George offered was deceitful. Sound asleep because of the stillness of his limbs, she didn't take his rest for granted. His breath wasn't even, nor deep as it used to be when he slept. No matter of what nature the rest was, disturbed or peaceful, there were elements Hermione had learnt to recognize for they never changed.
"Think it'll work?" she softly asked while laying down.
He didn't open his eyes. "It will, time will make it work."
A sigh of frustration crossed her lips.
Time, over and over again, everything seemed to depend on it. Time would make them stronger. Time would sooth their pain. Time would heal their injuries. Time would have Fred come back to them. But time was mostly a treacherous ally, lazy and cruel. Hermione was tired of waiting for it to settle such important matters.
"Do we give ourselves a limit?" She wanted a limit because her patience, led by her nerves, was growing thin.
"Four days," George decided randomly.
She grimaced but said nothing. She doubted they had much stamina left after all the events which had recently happened and four days, in their situation, seemed to be an eternity. She hoped they'd be able to gather enough rest quickly.
How long did they wait in the dark, sometimes with their eyes closed, sometimes with them fixed on the ceiling, restlessly fidgeting, they couldn't tell. They didn't speak. Exhausted they were simply waiting for sleep to take over.
Hermione doubted she'd gotten much sleep on this first night, and from the look of George's face when he woke up, they weren't going to take any definitive decision soon. At least her brain seemed to have adopt a slower rhythm, if luck was on her side, she'd bear to stay in bed all day, drifting off from time to time. George wasn't planning to do anything else. To take their pyjamas would have been sufficient for sightseeing wasn't exactly on their schedule. To do nothing was written in bold letters. And absolutely nothing did they do, absolutely nothing did they say too. They also tried not to think.
The television remained shut. The sole time George had switched it on, the thing had revealed a dying man, the following channel a bloody battlefield, so, not having the courage to search for a safe program, they'd silently agreed to keep the screen black.
Albeit they feared not doing anything might prevent them from sleeping at night, all worry disappeared when the sun surrendered to the moon. This time, they didn't wait for hours before unconsciousness gained them. When they woke up again, it was very early in the morning and, as soon as their eyes met, they both knew it was time they broached the painful subject.
They had no other choice but to give Fred the rest he deserved themselves. They were perfectly aware they'd be considered murderers, would be rejected, condemned even, nevertheless they wouldn't give up. To spend the rest of their life in prison was nothing in comparison to Fred's peace. The discussion was short and went straight to the point. When and how, they didn't need to think about anything else.
They packed up the few things they'd sprawled around the room, not wasting any more time, who knew what could have happened during their absence. Their plan might become useless, their minds might have gone to far, it was possible Fred was back, safe and sane. They might- they were dreaming, they knew it. Their certainty came straight from their heart. If Fred were to wake up now, he wouldn't be the same. The curse would have taken control of him. They couldn't let such a tragedy happen.
A prankster and a bookworm by nature, they had everything to come up with something which would work. Quick and painless, discretion didn't matter, they'd think about, and only about Fred's well-being.
They briefly stopped by the Burrow to get rid of their luggages, then straightly went to Fred's hospital room. It wasn't the middle of the night, but the visiting hours were close to be over, there was a chance for him to have been left alone already. They'd merely wait for the staff to end their round to act.
They were determined. Nothing would stop them, save for the scene which greeted them at the hospital.
"Holy shit," George breathed through clenched teeth.
Hermione's nails involuntarily dug into his arm.
"Hermione! George! Where have you been guys? Mum is furious!"
Breath caught up in their throat, they could only stare, mouths agape, at the sole thing which they didn't have a plan to face. These eyes, this voice, this body, it looked like him, sounded like him, and yet the man staring back at them wasn't their Fred.
They knew it, felt it.
They were too late.
The masquerade had already started.
To Be Continued