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As Long As Youíre Alive, Iím Alive by Luna Dominique Potter
Chapter 1 : As Long As Youíre Alive, Iím Alive
 
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Author’s Note: This is a pretty sad story . . . just as a warning. Oh, just to let you know, there’s some chances of tense in here, because we’re switching back and forth from third POV to George’s. I hope you like it!

 
Disclaimer: I do not own any of this. J. K. Rowling is amazing!  


As Long As You’re Alive, I’m Alive


Whenever a loved one dies people usually go into shock.

They’re not quite sure what’s happening and they’re sure it’s all a dream.

Closely followed by that is the rush of emotions and memories they had shared with that person.

Then there’s denial. It hadn’t happened. It couldn’t happen.

Finally the truth comes out.

There’s anger. Why had this happened to them? What had they done to deserve such a thing?

Then pain. Immense, everlasting pain.

And then the following years are filled with emptiness and more memories. What would’ve happened if that person had not died?

 
* * *

BOOM.

My thoughts were jarred into oblivion as the sound rang through my ears a thousand times. Vaguely, I heard shouting. Noise filtered through my right ear. I felt like I was half-asleep, but slowly being pulled to full consciousness.

“No – stop!”

I was still dazed; unable to tell if that voice shouting was mine or another’s. It sounded far away though. So that must’ve mean it was someone else. Right?

The world was one huge crashing sound; like a wave upon a beach; a dragon roaring with all its might and letting loose its flame. I couldn’t make sense of anything. It was all a blur, a tangle of emotions too twisted to see through clearly.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong.

It was my first clear thought. A devastating thought. What had happened? What had happened?!

My eyes had closed without my realisation, and with a great effort I wrenched them open.

I was rewarded with several bright flashes of light that immediately reminded me of the 422nd Quidditch World Cup that I had gone to in the summer before my sixth year. The atmosphere was different though. Very different.

The tension in the air wasn’t that of excitement; it was – plain and simply – fear. Fear for the outcome of this battle. Fear for yourself. Fear for your loved ones. Fear. Fear. Fear.

Why was I here? Why was I just standing here in the middle of a battle doing nothing? Shouldn’t I be fighting? Watching out for my family and my friends?

A sudden, inexplicable terror seized me and I froze once again before I could make a move. It couldn’t be…

Before I fully knew what I was doing I was running, running, running, screaming their names, screaming his name. What I feared could not have happened. It wasn’t real. Obviously I was just dreaming. The battle had just heightened my senses, making me more paranoid than usual.

Or was my gut telling me the truth? No. My gut was lying. It couldn’t be right. 

My mind was broken. Blown to bits. I wasn’t aware of my surroundings; I wasn’t aware of the people rushing past me. All I felt was an urge; an urge to run and to find him. Find him now. Find him now.

Before it was too late.

My feet slipped on a piece of rubble and I came crashing to the ground. I barely noticed. I was up again, racing through the crowds of good and bad people. Jinxes and curses flew past me, miraculously missing. My good ear registered dim shouts; whether from the Death Eaters or my fellow Hogwartians I did not know.

Go. Go. Go. Run. Run. Run. Save. Save. Save. 

Too late. Too late.

Was it really? Was my gut just lying to me again?

He was speaking again. You-Know-Who. I only heard three words.

Permitted. Friends. Die.

People bustled around me, shoving me to a place I did not want to go. The Great Hall.

“George!”

My Mum’s cry came a millisecond before she flung herself on me. For a second, all I felt and knew was her warm, comforting touch.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” she said, rubbing my back gently. And for once I didn’t resist: I just collapsed into her arms. I needed her strength right now when I was so weak.

“I’m fine.” My voice was barely more than a croak. I didn’t even know how she could make out my words.

“Where – where is he?” The question. Would her answer seal my fate?

Her whole body trembled and a few tears leaked out of her eyes. Tenderly as possible, I wound my hand in hers and pulled her to where I saw the rest of my family congregating. My jaw tightened, and I restrained myself from running. But I couldn’t.

He was there.

No words came to my mouth; no sound escaped from my lips; no outwards emotion appeared on my body. I was as still as a statue.

No.

It can’t be.

It wasn’t real.

Just a dream.

Just a shock.

He’s just sleeping.

He’ll wake up and crack a joke.

He always does.

He’s always been there for me.

Why would he stop now?

He wouldn’t.

He’s my best friend.

He’s my brother.

He’s my twin.

He’s my other half.

Without him, life isn’t worth living.

So, wake up.

Freddie, wake up – for me, please.

Why aren’t you waking up?

Why are you playing such a mean joke on me?

Why are you doing this, Freddie?

Why?

There was a sudden lull in my emotions and I was pulled back into a memory. One of my most precious memories. It was a memory that had always comforted me. Would it comfort me now?

We were both ten, and mentally preparing ourselves for Hogwarts the following year. We were in the garden. I can remember perfectly the sweet and tangy smells of the herbs Mum had planted. I remember the garden gnomes, tugging on weeds and shifting their gaze around to make sure that we weren’t looking at them. Poor, dumb little creatures.

“Freddie,” I had begun tentatively. “Have you ever thought – I mean – what would happen – do you think – if we ever got – s-separated?”

“Do you mean if one of us died?” he had said, almost casually.

“Y-yes,” I stuttered.

“Look here, Georgie,” he had said cheerfully. “Me and you – we’re connected. Twins are always connected, you see. It’s like some kind of . . . I dunno, inside bond, or something. You know how we always know what each other’s going to say? That’s the bond.”

I remembered his next words so clearly it was like I was there again. I remember the slight tension in the air and the birds singing sweetly. I remember Mum was cooking an apple pie and the tart smell was wafting through the open air. I remembered that we had just barely gotten away with some of the pie, and that it was resting in my stomach at that time. Mum had yet to find us. I remember my twin’s stance: It was easy, relaxed, and careless. His face wore a small grin, and his eyes were alight. His fingers had been carefully tracing the lines in the chair we were both sitting in, and I remember the shape of his mouth as he opened them to say the words that had haunted me for years.

“As long as you’re alive, I’m alive.”

I was alive, wasn’t I? So that must mean he was alive too!

I bounded to his side, grasped his cold hands tightly in mine, whispering, “I know you’re not dead, Freddie. I’m alive, see? So come back to me. Come back. Wake up, wake up. Don’t do this to me! C’mon, don’t prolong this evil joke of yours! I’ve had enough, Fred – I’ve had enough! Stop it! Stop it!

I felt hands pulling on me, people murmuring words of comfort.

“No!” I shouted. “Get away from him! He’s needs me! He needs me! I can’t leave him! Not until he stops! Stop it, Fred – stop it! Now – please!”

“George!” Hermione was there. Her eyes were filled with tears, and her bushy hair was all over the place as she grabbed my arms roughly. “He’s d-dead, George!” she cried. “There’s nothing you can do for him!”

“NO!” I bellowed. “He’s not dead! He’s not dead! You’re lying!”

My eyes were pools of salty water. The water ran down my cheeks in a never-ending stream. I was turning into a human faucet.

It wasn’t possible. It was unrealistic. Unlikely. Improbable. I wasn't going to believe it.

There were cries, shouts, sobs, screams. Anguish filled the room. People flooded the hall. The lights dimmed. Slowly, ever so slowly. I was falling, falling, falling into a blissful void of nothingness. I was gone. Gone from my family, my friends, the world. He had left me, but now I was going to join him. And we would be together again. Just like we always should have been.

Together. Together.

Together forever and ever until the end of time.

I opened my eyes.

For such a simple task, it was hard.

The lights were back on . . . or perhaps they had never left. I was laying on my side on a small piece of cloth. It was stiff-feeling but bumpy. I rubbed my finger over it, rubbing it until it was red. It was strange how much comfort I could get out of such a simple circular motion.

The truth. It was staring me straight in the face. It wasn’t a joke. It was real. Unreal, but yet real.

Someone shifted beside me, and, reluctantly, I turned to face whoever it was.

It was Percy. He looked terrible. More terrible than I had ever seen him. His eyes were red and swollen like he had had a Swelling Solution put on them. His whole body was trembling and his hands were wrung together tightly. But the emotion . . . it hurt me. I had never thought Percy had been capable of showing so much anguish, anger, or pain. But he was. Fred was, after all, his family too.

Fred was dead.

I wanted to lose consciousness again or bang my fists on the stone cold floor. I wanted to stand up and yell and run to go and find whoever did this to me. I wanted to kill him. Kill him with my own hands. He had torn my life from me. It was only fitting that I should to the same to him.

“NOOO!”

I was shaking, just like a Wildfire Whiz-Bang did before it exploded into red and green sparks. Except it was worse. Much worse. I was still going to explode, though.

Do you remember when we blew up our whole stock of Weasleys’ Wildfire Whiz-Bangs, Freddie? To rebel against that toad, Umbridge? Do you remember when we tested the Ton-Tongue Toffee on Harry’s cousin? Do you remember when we plastered mud all over Mrs. Norris? Do you remember when we first started planning for Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes? Do you remember all the times Mum would shout at us and Dad would go easy on us? Do you remember trying to protect Ginny all those years and making sure Ron didn’t make a total fool out of himself? Do you remember calling Percy a prat every time we saw him? Do you remember making fun of Charlie when he couldn’t pass his Apparition test? Do you remember inventing the Extendable Ears and eavesdropping on the Order? Do you remember the time we figured out how to get the Marauder’s Map to work? Do you remember giving it to Harry? Do you remember all the times we sent a Bludger straight smack into those Slytherin gits’ faces? Do you remember trying to make an Unbreakable Vow before Mum caught us? Do you remember, Freddie, do you?

The pain was now beating on me like a drum. You were gone, and there was nothing I could do about it. You were gone forever. And I couldn’t join you. You were dead and I wasn’t.

How can I live my life without you?

I felt empty. If a dementor has sucked out my soul, this is how I would feel. I was soulless. An empty being. Nothing in this life was left for me. Why did I continue living when you were not? Why was I here, and you weren’t? Why did you leave me?

Is there a reason why I’m enduring this torture? Why can’t I just join you, Fred? Why do I have to live?

I couldn’t live while you were dead. That’s not how we worked. One without the other…that’s not right. How can I do this?

“As long as you’re alive, I’m alive.”

You lied to me, Freddie. Why had you lied to me?

I lifted my arm, searching through the empty space for the one thing I knew I would never touch again. If you had been alive, you would’ve been right there, ready to comfort me. Why had you died? Why had I left your side?

I want to die. I want to leave this world where nothing goes right and everything is wrong. 

I found myself near a window, and as I straightened my back I saw my reflection. My face was distorted, made ugly by the curved lines running through the glass. I was pale, making my red hair look brighter than usual; my freckles stood out like a Blast-Ended Skrewt in a lavatory. I looked how I felt.

We were exactly the same, Freddie. Same hair and eye colour, same body build, same personality . . . We used to call each other “Double Trouble”. Without you . . . I can’t do that anymore.

Without you . . . It’s like being a Weasley without red hair. Dad without his Muggle stuff. Dumbledore without his beard. A dragon without its flame. Percy without his prefect badge. A broomstick without a tail. Filch without Peeves to annoy him. A book without words. Hogwarts without magic. I can’t live a life without you.

I closed my eyes. Fred’s death was now a reality to me. A horrible, pain-inducing, shocking reality.

I knew that I wouldn’t ever be the same now that he was . . . gone. I knew that no matter how hard I tried I would never be able to forget his face, his laugh, or his smile. He was dead and I couldn’t change that.

But as I felt my family enclosing around me, holding my hands, patting me, and saying indecipherable words, I realised that I couldn’t leave them. They had already suffered too much, so why increase their pain? Besides, Fred wouldn’t have wanted me to do that. Right?

“For you, Freddie,” I whispered. “I’ll do this for you.”


A/N: So sad! This story was all kind of jumbled, but I guessed that that’s how George would feel a bit like. I never thought I’d write a story about Fred’s death, but I just had to. And, actually, I’m quite proud of it . . . while I’m blowing my nose here . . . yeah. Anyway, I just hope that you guys liked it. Please tell me what your thoughts, your feelings, anything. Thanks for reading this! 




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