Getting Over It
Hello. I had this idea, so wrote it down quickly before I forgot.
It centres around George getting over Fred’s death, and him and Angelina my favourite couple in the HP series, even though we never hear anything about them
It could be a romance, I don’t know, I ain’t so good at writing them.
Characters and settings and all that sort of stuff, all J K’s or Warner Bros. Yup. You know that, so yeah…
The grass on the grounds of Hogwarts had been trimmed for the memorial service. Hogwarts students had covered the large birch tree that had its roots dangling in the water with black decorations and charms. On the trunk was a picture of the fifty people who had given their lives for a better future in the Battle of Hogwarts. A small pile of flowers had started to gather there, as people started to arrive to give their respect.
The few hundred chairs sat at the base of the slope, looking out over the black water where many shimmering heads were surfacing from the mer-village resting at the bottom. A podium had been set up under the shade of the tree, and ministry officials had gathered and were discussing what seemed important matters.
And the sun shone brightly at it’s ten o’clock position. Too bright for a funeral, George Weasley thought, as he arrived with his family by side-along apparition. He had been too distracted over the last four days. Since his world had ended. Since he had to continue living as though the dead were in the past. His eyes blurred as he followed the collection of red heads that were his family down to the area marked out for the ceremony.
As they walked by the black tree, he dropped back.
‘This is for you, Freddie boy. Enjoy it.’ He murmured, as he let the tears drip from his eyes, showering the ground. Stooping low, to try and block out his movements from the rest of the world, he waved his wand and made a beautiful wreath out of an assortment of flowers with FRED spelled out in small petals. He saw Fred’s picture next to the many others. The picture Fred saw George staring at him, and grinned. George mirrored his grin, knowing that to anyone watching, he would look like a lunatic. But then again, who cares?
‘Hey mate. Long time, no see.’
The picture Fred chuckled, and upon hearing that familiar tone he had thought he would never hear again, George joined in.
‘Yeah,’ The picture of Fred leaned over and looked at his surroundings outside his frame.
‘Wow, would you look at all the flowers there? And that really girly one with Fred written there and… you didn’t make that, did you Georgie? Please tell me you didn’t, George?’
‘All for you mate.’ George laughed. Fred gave him a rude hand gesture and turned around, facing the back of the picture, the outside of Weasley Wizards Wheezes. It had been a photo of the two of them that they took to put in the Daily Prophet to advertise. It was the most recent picture they had taken. Absentmindedly, George fingered the other half with him in his pocket.
‘Oh come on mate. You would have done the same thing if you were in my position and I was in yours…’ He broke off when Fred turned around. His eyes. They must have been what George had been looking like the past week. Dead, saddened, like a dementor had sucked out his soul.
‘It’s so unfair!’ George blurted out. ‘I mean, why you? Why not me? Why not someone else? It didn’t have to be you, yet it was.’
‘It wasn’t just me who died. Fifty other people are dead. All those families torn apart, because of one selfish, evil git who was an idiot. Voldemort.’ He paused and smirked.
‘George, look at me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I can no longer be there with you, helping you out, being your other half, chatting up girls, picking on Ronniekins, or selling our produce at our shop. We started a whole new franchise! That was our dream, and we did it before I died.’ Fred smiled sadly at George. This was definitely the longest speech Fred had managed to say without a joke.
‘It was your idea…’ George mumbled.
Fred just smiled at him. ‘I’ll see you later good buddy, and take it easy out there, okay?’
George just stood there and gaped as the picture Fred went mute and waved at him. A soft crunching of the ground alerted him that someone was walking towards him, and he went to turn away, but couldn’t tear his eyes away from his the picture of his brother. Tears cascaded down his cheeks. Forget what they say in books, about not crying when a loved one has died. It was the easiest thing in the world to let go of the salty liquid and taste it as it fell by his lips, to just stand there for eternity. He jumped a little when a hand gently rested on his shoulder.
‘Hey.’ Ginny’s voice crept up to his ear. ‘George, who were you talking to?’
He didn’t turn, just gazed at Fred.
Ginny seemed to understand enough and wrapped her arm around him. Of course the picture wasn’t talking. It wasn’t the first time he had let go of the present and turned to his imagination.
His family very much knew that.
They stood there for well over five minutes, never taking their eyes away from Fred, who still just waved. Some important Ministry man announced that it was time for everyone to take their seats. A large amount of popping could be heard over yonder, and people were walking from all over the castle grounds to the ceremony.
Soon there weren't any chairs left, and people had to start standing around the gathering.
Ginny led the unwilling George over to the seats their family had saved, and George sat next to Charlie, wishing that he could never have to speak to anyone again.
‘Friends, families, witches, wizards, and the few muggles, we are gathered here in this significant place to remember our lost ones, who died in what will be a significant turning point in History.’
The person sitting next to George sniffed, and he looked over to find Angelina Johnson sitting next to him. He shouldn’t have looked over. He remembered how she used to date Fred. How he used to think she was amazing, and she used to really like him. George was there too, of course. They had been friends with Angelina even before she got ‘romantically involved’ with Fred. Though somewhere in sixth year, Angelina went into hiding, and they completely lost contact with her.
When George started listening to what was being said again, he found that the man was reading out all the names, and the represent from each family had to go and do something, probably lay out a wreath at the foot of the new memorial. That was meant to be George for the Weasley clan.
Oops… He thought.
Come on Georgie. He jumped when Fred’s voice echoed in the back of his mind. Go on out there and put on a good show. This ceremony could be spiced up a bit, it isn’t exactly entertaining… Pretty big turnout, eh? A thousand?
Freddie, it’s a funeral. Even we knew when to not cross the line.
Oh oh. Buzz kill alert!
George’s grin faltered when the little priest spoke out Fred’s name. He stood, and walked to the end of his row. He took one look at the little priest, and turned his heel.
And he ran. He didn’t stop to look back at his family, who would share sympathetic glances, he didn’t look back at the priest, who would be trying to cover it up, and he didn’t look back at the crowd, who would all be thinking he’s lost his marbles over the shock of losing a twin. He couldn’t face it all over again. It just seemed so... final.
His feet ran of their own accord, and after several minutes of heavy breathing, he came to a halt in front of what was left of the changing rooms beside the quiddtich pitch. Hesitantly, he entered.
Memories came so vividly, George had to step back. Over in the corner, where Fred had snogged Mary Ashlea, or where Oliver used to stand, trying to give a speech but always being interrupted by Fred. There was Fred's old locker, next to what used to be George's.
He looked over to the shelf with all the photos of every champion quidditch team. The 1993-1994 years win had their team all smiling up at him. Harry sat in between Fred and George. They all looked very happy.
He walked back outside to the pitch, and would have been surprised to see the storm clouds gathering over in the south if it wasn’t for his deadened mood.
Climbing the only stand that hadn’t been destroyed in the battle, he felt the first raindrop. It was fresh on his face, landing splat of his cheek where it joined his drying tears.
He stood where he had once sat as a seventh year, when he had been told he could never play quidditch again. Looking back at the service, someone had conjured a water repelling charm over the crowd. But George welcomed the rain. It almost seemed to wash away his sorrow.
He looked down. The grass was starting to dampen under the light drizzle, far away beneath them.
It seemed so easy that life was taken. George could quite easily jump now, and take his. It wouldn’t be painful, or if it was, he wouldn’t know. He just wanted to see Fred again.
It was selfish. He could kill his mother with the shock, but he didn’t think about her now. He stepped up. Did he have the guts?
Would it get rid of the sorrow and misery?
Did he want to do it?
‘Wait!’ A female voice shouted out. He looked around angrily. Angelina Johnson was coming up behind him, her stretched out arms were shaking.
‘Wait.’ She said weakly again. George stepped off the side, and took a seat. Nervously, she sat down next to him.
Probably thinks I’m crazy, he thought.
You kind of are, mate. Fred’s voice said from the back of his mind, proving what he said was true.
Angelina jumped, and glanced at George.
Trying to make him seem less like a sad little puppy, he said ‘I wasn’t talking to you, sorry.’
Good cover up. Now she only thinks you’re talking to yourself, or better yet, a voice in your head... Fred’s voice said again.
George shot an imaginary scowl at Fred.
After a long awkward silence, George spoke. ‘I wasn’t going to jump you know.’ He was surprised how his voice sounded. How dead it was.
She looked like she was going to say something, but switched at the last minute.
‘I miss him too George. I know this must be so hard on you. No, I can’t even imagine how hard this must be. But it’s not fair to your family. You need them, and they need you. No matter what happens, there is always something to live for.’
She was looking at him. He could feel it. Slowly, he raised his head up and looked back into those brilliant brown eyes. She started tearing up. He could hardly see that she was the same person that was a fiery quidditch captain in their seventh year.
‘You have the same eyes you know.’ She said, choking back a sob. He reached over and put his arm around the girl who had loved the other half of him.
It was strange how calming she was. He felt all his immediate craziness slip away, and all the knots in his brain that had left him confused all week seemed to untie themselves.
‘Why did you leave without saying anything to him? It tore him apart.’ An echo of his old self haunted his new dead voice.
‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged, and George, thinking she had nothing more to say, let his arm retreat to his side.
‘I went into hiding with my sister, as she got into trouble with some Death eaters. And I couldn’t bring myself to tell Fred in person. I told myself I loved him, but there was still some part of me that realised, well, he wasn’t completely right for me. So I left.’
George’s arm was back around her shoulders in an instance as a fresh tidal wave of tears came from her, and he let what had clearly been bothering her for the past week escape her mind, and let the burden lift from her shoulders.
‘The last time I saw him was at the Battle of Hogwarts. He was coming out of a bathroom, saying that he couldn’t fight properly unless he had an empty bladder.’
A laugh echoed in the back of George’s mind.
‘He said I was looking good, and then asked how I had been. I didn’t answer. I just kissed him.’ She looked at her hands when she said this, almost as if it was in shame.
One hell of a kiss it was, too.
Get lost Fred. Can’t you see I’m trying to comfort her?
Well, you obviously aren’t doing it right. Look at her bring on the waterworks!
Ok, well then what do you expect me to do then?
Well, you should kiss her.
George looked at Angelina. And a light suddenly lit up his insides, helping the emptiness seem that little bit more bearable. She was gorgeous, even when her shoulders slumped like that, or the tears made her face look grubby. He could picture her resting in his arms, perfectly fitting. The emotion that swept through him lit his eyes up. He suddenly became very aware of how close he was sitting to her, and how his arm wrapped protectively around her.
I can’t do it. I can’t kiss her. She’s your ex!
George. Do you think I would have suggested that if I wasn’t alright with it?
But you’re my imagination!
So then I guess it was your idea. Mate, nothing would make me happier than to see you happy with a girl by your arm. To see you let go. I ain’t coming back, ok? I’m dead. It’s time you recognised that.
I love you Freddie.
And I love you too mate.
Without hesitation, George took hold of the sobbing Angelina’s hands, looked her in the eye, and kissed her.
She was taken by surprise, but immediately kissed him back, long and hard. It was funny how the electricity jumped from her dark skin, straight to George's freckly complexion.
When they broke apart, they were both speechless.
‘Feel better now?’ George asked, his cockiness returning.
Okay, it was fairly depressing, but that’s the story line, ain’t nothing I can do about it
I think I’m going to leave it as a one-shot, but if I get any brainwaves, then I’ll continue.
And also, I didn’t really know what happened between Fred and Angelina, so I made it up
Please, Leave feedback here, Helps a lot
GRYFFINDOR, WHERE DWELL THE BRAVE AT HEART
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'When Life sucks, Just Dance! And since life nearly always sucks, Always Dance...' -Joe Walker, AVPSY
Last edited by Baarney; May 5th, 2013 at 1:11 pm.
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