Before the Dawn | George Weasley

73

I kept my arm around the blonde woman's shoulder as she assisted me back to the Great Hall, an increasingly overwhelming sense of relief flooding through me with every step.

The sun had peeked over the horizon, casting a faint glow over the ruins of the castle, and just for a moment, the world was quiet. I closed my eyes for a moment as we walked, revelling in the fragile serenity.

My relief vanished as we entered the Great Hall and I saw the lines of bodies lying on the floor.

I pulled myself from the woman, limping my way down the line with my heart in my throat. I held my breath as I looked among them. Please, please don't let any of them be—

Remus and Tonks. 

Lying next to one another, their ashen faces peaceful.

The world seemed to sway around me, and I felt my knees give out. A sob ripped itself from my chest.

"No," I cried out. "No, no, no..."

I crawled forward, taking Remus's cold hand in mine, thinking that maybe he'd wake up, that he'd sit up and assure me that this wasn't real, that I'd only been imagining it. But he didn't.

My head fell onto Remus's chest as hot tears streamed down my face. I felt arms loop around me from behind, but I shoved them away, ignoring the cutting pain in my side.

"Don't!" I sobbed, leaning back and smoothing a hand gently over Remus's hair, my breath escaping in ragged gasps. Then I balled the front of his shirt in my fist. "You're not dead, you can't be dead, you're not—"

The arms returned, pulling me away more firmly this time. I fell limp under their touch, allowing whoever it was to pull me to their chest. I shook with the sobs that ripped violently through me.

I looked up to see George holding me tightly, his own dirty face streaked with tears. I cast one last glance over at Remus's body, a whimper escaping me, and buried my face in George's shirt, torn between the harrowing grief tremouring through me and an overwhelming, numbing relief that George was okay, that he wasn't one of the bodies lying on the floor, that I hadn't lost him, too.

"They—they just—I—"

"I know," George whispered. "I know."

I held him even impossibly tighter. George rubbed circles between my shoulder blades with a gentle hand and pressed a kiss to my temple. I closed my eyes, focussing on the warmth of his body against mine and the sense of comfort that effused from his very presence. 

Once my breathing had evened out, he released me and we looked each other over. He raised his wand, and a tingling sensation ran through the cut on my face as he healed it.

"What happened to you?" he asked softly, a crease between his eyebrows as he worked.

"Yaxley," I said quietly, bringing up my stumpy hand to examine it. I couldn't bear to tell George just how closely I had brushed with death, how I had already accepted that I'd never see his face again, so instead I just picked at the blood-soaked material.

"Well, look at us, both missing appendages." He gave a small smile.

I returned his smile halfheartedly, my eyes wandering briefly to the spot where his ear had once been. "Is everyone else okay? Your family, I mean?"

His smile vanished, then, and when he spoke, his voice shook. "We haven't found Fred yet. There was an explosion."

My heart plummeted. "Let's go look for him, then."

George shook his head. "Dad and Percy are looking now."

"You don't want to help them look?"

He chewed his lip for a moment, glancing away. I watched as he scanned the Hall wordlessly, a shadow of stress across his face. When he turned back to me, his eyes shone with tears.