George stood up and walked to the window, placing his hands on the sill and gazing out across the endless fields. Sighing, he listened to the steady beat of the rain pounding against the sides of the house, and took another swig of the Firewhiskey in his hand. In the distance, a bolt of lightening flashed across the sky, reminding him of everything he had lost in that final battle. The memories came rushing back like an avalanche, ready to crush him once again.
"Crucio!" shouted the hooded figure. George was forced to dive behind a suit of armor to avoid the curse.
"Come on, Weasley, you can do better than that," the Death Eater taunted. George threw another curse over the armor, causing the hood of the Death Eater's robes to fall. The face of Matthew Tolbey was revealed, a Ravenclaw George recognized as being one year ahead of himself. Shocked, he dropped his guard, something he regretted instantly, as Tolbey took advantage of it.
"Confringo!" he yelled, aiming his wand at the armor. George was thrown backwards into a wall, and everything went black.
When he awoke, the first thing he realized was that he had a blinding headache. The second thing was that he could see Percy dueling Pius Thicknesse.
"Hello Minister!" he shouted in between curses, "Did I mention I'm resigning?"
George grinned, though it was short lived, (it hurt his head), and he could hear Fred's reaction.
"You're joking, Perce," he said gleefully, and then a moment later, "You actually are joking, Perce! I don't think I've heard you joke since you were-" and then everything exploded. George threw his hands over his head, fearing Tolbey had come back, but nothing happened, save for a dull thud beside him.
Curious, he opened his eyes to a horrific sight. There, beside him, lay the immobile figure of his twin brother.
Unbelieving, he let out an inhuman moan, shaking the limp body of his brother. When he didn't respond, George broke down completely.
"No-no-no," he roared, already sobbing, "No! Fred! No!"
Now, George could feel tears leaking down his face yet again. He couldn't count the number of times this had happened over the last two years. He was sick of it. He couldn't live like this anymore.
The doorbell was ringing, but he didn't move to answer it. Instead, he made his way towards the bathroom, seizing his razor from the shower. He placed the cool metal against the skin of his wrist and gazed into the mirror.
"Don't worry, Fred. I'll be with you soon," he whispered, closing his eyes and preparing to welcome death. Suddenly, he heard a voice from the doorway.
"George?! What are you doing?!"
Dropping the razor in alarm, he turned to see a familiar face staring at him.
"Hermione? What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I brought some groceries," she said, pointing to the counter. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him towards the couch, "What were you thinking?" She gently wiped his tears away, but they were immediately replaced with new ones. He clenched her hand, in desperate need of a lifeline.
"It's my only way out. Don't you see?" he said, shaking with sobs again, "Y-you have n-no i-idea what it's l-like to l-lose a twin. N-no i-idea."
Hermione drew him into a tight embrace, letting him cry into her shoulder. Eventually, his shudders subsided and he lifted his head. Extremely grateful, he looked her in the eye, and said, with the most sincerity he could muster, a simple "Thank you," She smiled and squeezed his hand.
He returned the smile weakly, but found himself unable to break eye contact. The brown was suffocating, and he could see specks of gold and hazel embedded deep within their depths. He was drowning, struggling to escape, but found himself unable. Perhaps it was the mass quantity of alcohol he had consumed, but he found himself instead moving towards her. Suddenly, their lips met, and George was overcome by emotion.
This feels so right.
She's Ron's girlfriend.
She might leave him.
Never. She loves him.
Then why is she kissing me back?
He'll kill you.
Ickle Ronniekins? He couldn't if he tried.
George deepened the kiss, his tongue asking permission to enter her mouth. She easily granted it, and their tongues danced to a beat of unheard music.
The two made their way to the bedroom, their lips never pating, where they collapsed onto the bed. George grunted and moved his hand up her shirt, caressing the smooth skin of her stomach. She moaned slightly, throwing her head back. Breaking the kiss, George moved instead to her neck, working all the while on the strap of her bra.
It's been so long, he thought.
She's still Ron's girlfriend, a little voice reminded him.
I don't care, he convinced himself, and dedicated the rest of the night to enjoy what he was doing.
The next morning, Hermione woke up in an unfamiliar room with someone laying beside her. She stretched contedly and everything came flooding back.
She leaped out of bed, searching for her clothes and scrambling to get them on, mortified by what she had done. She could hear George stirring under the blankets, and doubled her pace. Just as she was about to slip out the door, George awoke.
"You're leaving?" he asked. She didn't have to look at him to tell he was disappointed. She turned around reluctantly to face him.
"Yeah," she said, biting her lip, "Last night was a mistake. You were drunk, and I wanted to make you feel better, so we got out of hand. I have to go." The words sounded oddly like a lie in her ears.
If possible, his face fell even more. "You mean you're going back to...to Ron?" he asked sadly. She nodded apologetically. "It was all out of sympathy?" she nodded again. "You don't...you don't....love me?" she shook her head.
"I'm sorry. I've...I've gotta go," she answered and bolted out the door.
For the rest of the day, Hermione found it difficult to keep her mind off George Weasley. She kept remembering how right she felt in his arms, how his hazel eyes, so different from Ron's blue ones, seemed to sparkle with emotion. None of that ever happened to her with Ron, or even Viktor Krum for that matter. What was wrong with her?
And then she realized. It was love.
George was still broken hearted. He was trying to remain strong for his mother, but it was just too many heartbreaks to handle. Draining his glass, he moved to fetch his wand from the bedroom. Gulping, he raised it, just as he heard someone pounding on the door. He mustered all the hate he had for himself and Voldemort combined and opened his mouth.
Upon her realization, Hermione immediately Apparated to Godric's Hollow and started pounding on the door. When there was no answer, she unlocked it with her wand and stepped inside.
"George? George!" she shouted into the silence.
Some part of George's subconcious saw her, even though his heart had stopped. "Hermione?" he tried to call out. But it was too late.
George Weasley lay dead upon the floor.
Giving an almighty scream, Hermione rushed to George's body and threw herself on him, checking for a pulse. When she could find none, she collapsed onto his chest.
"George, no....," she sobbed, "George, you can't die....I love you,"
It was only then that George realized what a mistake he had made, as the final part of his soul left his body.
A/N - I know it was sad. I hated writing the ending like that, but it didn't work any other way. I have a minor plot bunny for a sequel and I want to know what you think. Leave a vote in a review. Remember, I have 3 other stories waiting for updates, so the sequel could take a while.
I'd just like to say thank you again to LifeAndTimesOfABrokenSoul for the perfect banner!!