Night. The window was open. The moon casting a faint washed-out light onto the floorboards. Its paleness a strange contrast to the dark wood.
He woke up shivering. His eyes hurt from lack of sleep and his forehead was damp with presperation. He squinted into the darkness, assessing his surroundings. Home. He was at home in his bed. Shifting into a sitting position he paused. What had woken him? He swung his legs out and pressed them to the wooden floor. Cold. A draft from an open window tickled the fine hairs on his arms. Something important. He didn't know what, his mind was fogged with exhaustion.
George walked forward, trying to step lightly, down the hallway. He slowed as a new image appeared ahead. Pushing through the dark a far-off light blinked. On. Off. On. Off. He froze, not wanting to walk closer to the luminescent pinprick. Something important. Taking a step to the left, into the sitting room, away from the flashing dot. He tried to readjust his eyes to the dark, opening and shutting his eyelids at a fixed interval. The room seemed to clear of its haze as if someone was turning a dimmer switch up.
A noise in the kitchen, "hello?" his voice echoed through the hall and he cringed, knowing you never call out into the unknown for fear of being heard. Heard by those you don't want listening. He hoped the noise wasn't an intruder. Although why would it be when he already knew the noise came from the light.
"Hello?" his own voice faintly called back after bouncing through the empty spaces.
A clink from the kitchen. Footsteps down the hallway. Pausing at the doorframe, not wanting to enter without permission.
"Come in," George invited quietly.
A figure sat itself down in a chair next to George's. It left a trail wherever it walked, bleaching the night of its darkness.
"I thought you had...left," gone, left, died, they all ment the same thing.
"You, my friend, must realize the time we have won't last. You can't erase the past."
There was something strange about his words, he felt as if I'd heard them before. Something important. George couldn't place it, but he was glad that he was here now. He looked back at him and he smiled. The two glasses in his hand clinked. George took a glass. Neither made a move to fill them.
"Let's raise a glass to better days," Fred lifted his.
"Forget the past and our wicked ways," George lifted his.
"Just let me sing this one last song," clink.
"And make this feeling last, all night long," They tipped their glasses back in a syncronized motion. The dry, emptiness didn't bother them. They might as well of been filled to the brim with a lavious scotch.
"A fresh start is what you need," George said to his brother and somehow he new he would give him a new beginning. Something important, "so let's begin again."
Fred mumbled a bit then smiled. His image flickered, "so let's raise a glass to better days," his voice skipped a bit on the last word like static.
"Forget the past and our wicked ways."
"Let's sing together, one last song." His voice wavered.
"And make this feeling last all night long."
Fred's image faltered and he flickered like a light in a thunderstorm. Him and his trail of bleached night flashed. Here. Gone. Here. Gone. Here. The smile never left his brother's face. Gone. The darkness never felt thicker to George. It was comforting to have one last night with his brother, Fred. It was nice to know he had years to come with his something special, Fred.
George woke up shivering. His radio still on from earlier that night, he listened as it started another verse to his and Fred's song.
Know all is well
Dust yourself off
and tell your blues to go to hell."
The station crackled. He blinked a few times to clear the haze from his mind. He jumped up from his bed with a grin, turning on the spot where he landed and disapparated. The usually uncomfortable pressure felt warm in George's epiphanied state.
After a somewhat graceful landing he rushed towards a dismal building. Instantly slowing his pace inside though as the receptionist glared at him. He briskly walked by the front front desk where she was perched, all the while sqawking at him. He took the stairs two at a time, not bothering with the elevator, to floor 4. The hall in front of him seemed to stretch forever. White walls with clean metal fixings. He stopped at a door marked 'Room 37 -Weasley'
A nurse blocked the doorway. He tried to step around her, but she just swatted his arm, "No entrance is permited after hours."
"I have to get in, it's important!" He argued.
"George, is that you?" A voice called from the room.
"No entrance," the nurse firmly restated.
"Fred! Fred! --" the nurse clamped a hand over his mouth.
"Shhh! You'll wake up other patients."
George pushed past his roadblock and bolted into the room. He leaned over the bed, "Fred. I want it to be Fred."
"You already had it picked out as a name didn't you? That's why you're agreeing so quick." he said softly.
She nodded, "I wanted you to think of it yourself, to make sure you were ready."
"I love you, Ang," he bent down to kiss her.
"I love you, too," his lips on hers.
"Where's my little Freddie?" He smirked.
"Sleeping in the newborn room. We get to leave tomorrow," a grin.
George managed to smile even wider. Tonight was his last night in the dark.
A/N- So this popped into my head. Lyrics are to Better Days by the Dirges. Which if you didn't figure out is what Fred and George are saying (it's also my favorite song :L). Sorry if this is a little confusing, you can leave a review if you like it or ask me change something to clarify. Hope you enjoyed it. -East Juliet P.S. check out my friend WhenTuesdayComes! She just posted her first story!