George Weasley hadn't left the flat above his shop in two weeks. After the initial elation of Voldemort's defeat had worn off, the unbearable absence of his twin overcame him. The "closed" sign on the storefront hadn't changed in over a month. He even refused to answer the knocks on his door from concerned family members.
First, Arthur and Molly tried to reach out to him. It hadn't worked, of course. They were completely distraught as well, but none of them could comprehend the pain the others were in. How could George know how it felt to lose a child, and Molly and Arthur a twin? They gave up after a few hours of absolutely no answers. "We love you, George. Please be okay, love. We have tons of food at the house. You know we are always here for you." George heard a gut-wrenching sob from Molly as they turned to leave.
Next came Percy, surprisingly. "George." He said softly. "George, please answer the door. I know you're in there." Percy's voice was clawing at his eardrums. Percy was, of course, the last person Fred had spoken to before his death.
"Go away." Was all George could manage past the door. Percy didn't argue with him any longer. As his footsteps faded behind the door George couldn't shake Fred's last words from his head.
"You're joking, Perce! You actually are joking, Perce. I don't think I've heard you joke since we were…"
George wiped tears away from his eyes. Those two visits had been within two days of each other. He was given some reprieve for a few days, but then the knocks started again.
"Little brother." The voice was calm. "Have you eaten?" George chose not to respond. "C'mon George. It's Bill. I didn't bring Fleur." He paused before jiggling the handle. "I want to respect your privacy. Please don't make me unlock it with a spell." George still didn't care. What did privacy matter? He had never had privacy with Fred. He thought he heard Bill pull out his wand, but suddenly he spoke through the door again. "I love you, George. We're all hurting, but none of us can imagine how this is for you just—" Bill stopped. "Just please let me in next time okay?"
George nodded, despite the fact Bill couldn't see through the door. Bill was about to ask for a sign of life, but suddenly George's sobs let him know he was there, whether he was answering or not. And with that, Bill left.
The next day Charlie came. The usual knocks came with him. "George." Charlie was quiet. "I'm not here to tell you everything is fine. We're all miserable. I'm not asking you to leave this place. I'm not asking for a response. I know you're in there because you're my brother and I know you. Please think about visiting someone soon. Or letting someone in." He stopped. "I won't bother you any longer. Love you, bub." Charlie's heavy footsteps pounded down the stairs and out of earshot.
Again, George had no response. What could be said? What did they want from him? The only person who had known everything about him was gone. In every fathomable way. What good was magic when it can't bring back your loved ones?
There was a break for four days of no visitors. Then suddenly he heard the sound of fast steps running up the stairs. "George Weasley!" The voice was angry. And straining to hold back tears. "George you open the door right this second." His only sister's voice was sad and tight.
"Ginny don't." Harry's voice was soft. "Ginny." George imagined Harry must have been pulling her arm away from the spot where her wand sat in her jacket. "George?" Harry asked. "I'm sorry." Was all he managed.
"Please go away." Those were the most words George had managed in the past month.
"No." Ginny barked. "You let us in this room so I can hug you or I swear I will break this door down with my bare hands and pinch you on the arm."
George rolled his eyes. "Not today, please." Three more words.
"George. We love you. I'll be back next week with Ron." Harry mumbled through the door. George could hear Ginny's sobbing on the other side and it made his stomach hurt. And as had everyone else's, their footsteps disappeared as they walked back down the stairs.
It couldn't have been a full twenty-four hours after this encounter before more visitors arrived. The footsteps were heavy and the knocks unsure. "George?" Ron's voice was cracking already. "George we can't do this without you."
There was a moment where George considered letting Ron in. Ron had been the closest with the twins and, although he was often their punching bag and butt of all their jokes, Ron's voice was the most comforting one to come through the door so far. "I just need this, Ron." At least this time there were more words.
"George. I can't do this. I know if I feel this way that you feel this way a trillion times over. Please let us in. Hermione's here. She has tea." Ron's voice cracked again and he sniffed back tears.
Hermione took over. "George, we're not trying to force you to do anything. I just hate to see you do this alone." Her voice was maternal sounding. "I can't open this door. We won't do that to you. But please come by the Burrow and let us see you sometime soon. We love you so much."
"Go away." George struggled.
"Damn it all to hell, George!" Ron was angry crying. "Quit being so stubborn! Just—"
Hermione cut him off. "We're going now, George." The sounds of Ron being pulled down the stairs were loud and clumsy and George was sure he heard quiet sobs at the bottom of the stairs.
George knew his family had nothing but good intentions, but all he wanted was to sink into his bed and drift into eternal sleep. At least there he could be reunited with Fred. And the pain would be gone. He fell asleep not too long after Ron and Hermione had left.
OoOoOoO
George awoke in a cold sweat. He didn't sleep much anymore. When he did, he was cursed with nightmares reliving the sight of Fred's body lying motionless on the floor in the pile of rubble that once was the wall that fell on him. The dreams made him sick to his stomach.
Suddenly he was running to the bathroom. He heaved into the toilet, but nothing came. Throwing up hurt, but it was nothing compared to dry heaving. At least vomiting has a sense of relief once your stomach has purged itself of whatever was causing the discomfort. When there's nothing to relieve itself of you just get the miserableness without the relief.
All George wanted was some relief. He stumbled to his cabinets. There were still beads of sweat on his forehead. His face was matted to the back of his neck. His face was covered in red stubble. His fingers clumsily found the cabinet handles. He pulled it open to find no food left. George next tried to refrigerator. Still no food. He couldn't remember when he had run out. In fact, he couldn't remember when he had last eaten. Yesterday? Two days ago? Last week?
Time was unflinching in the wake of Fred's death. The sun still rose and set. The moon still shone at night. All of this made George more melancholy. Where was the respect? The world had lost the best person it had created and yet nothing stopped. No one stopped. No one except George. Left permanently one-half of his former self. Never again could he be whole.
The stumbling and fumbling around made George's headache and stomach pain worsen. He crawled back to his bed. He pulled his pillow into his face and wailed again. He wasn't sure how there were still tears to be shed. Surely his body had gotten rid of all the tears it could produce, but each night his body proved him wrong.
OoOoOoO
There was no telling how long George laid face down into the pillow, but he got the urge to check his watch for the time. It was one in the morning. This time last year Fred and George would've been sharing a shot or two and laughing. Now George was glued to his bed and trying to figure out the last time he had had a meal. He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.
Suddenly there were two quiet pops inside the room. "Oh no, mate." George recognized the voice. "George. Open your eyes I know you're not asleep." Lee Jordan's voice reverberated in his ears and George chanced a look.
To his surprise Lee wasn't alone. Standing there beside him was Angelina. They both looked terrible. Not in the same state as George, but pitiful looking nonetheless.
Angelina eyed George up and down on the bed. "Are you eating?" She didn't wait for an answer. "I ought to slap you."
"She's right, mate. You can't starve yourself. C'mon, let's get you some food. We brought some stuff just in case you were like this."
"No." George said quietly. "I can't. I'm not hungry."
Lee shook his head. "We're not doing this with you. Your family can coddle you. We are here because we're not going to let you dissolve into a shell of your former self."
George was angry now. "You don't know how I feel!"
"You're too busy being miserable to consider that other people lost someone too, George!" Angelina shot back. "We lost a very good friend. I know it's nothing compared to you losing him, but you aren't the only one dealing with it." Tears were brimming her eyes.
George shifted his focus to Lee. His eyes looked the same, full of tears. "We're not leaving. So you can either join us in the kitchen or stay in here wasting away. But you're going to do it while you have company."