Irrevocably

5. Succumb

I lean against the paned glass of the bay window, wondering how much time has passed since I saw George-a few hours, maybe? My body is encumbered with fatigue over crying-the tears long gone but the sadness, the guilt, the unrelenting torment still resting heavily on my conscience.

The city beneath me has dwindled into a steady lull, but a continuous bustle still reverberates through the city streets, the night owls keeping the city alive into the wee hours of the night. I watch the joggers, the drunken friends with their arms slung over each other's shoulders, the lovers stealing kisses beneath dimly lit street lamps.

Part of me longs to go outside, to cope rather than hide, to leave this behind and reinvent myself since I was given the gift of a clean slate.

But the boy down the hall puts a quick end to those wishes.

All I can think about is George. His soft smile and reminiscent eyes, his honey-like words and how he instinctually reaches for me.

I have so many more questions I don't even know where to begin. But I can't bring myself to put either of us through this again. At least not tonight.

There's a quiet knock at my door and unease makes me tense. What is there left to say? How am I supposed to face him again?

"Come in," I say weakly, bracing for impact as the door slowly pushes open.

A mix of disappointment and relief slumps my otherwise stiff shoulders as Fred saunters in.

"Hope I didn't wake you." He smiles apologetically.

"You didn't."

"I just got back, figured I'd check in before heading to bed." He says, still smiling.

I stay silent and once he's close enough, the evidence of my previous lament-puffy eyes and splotchy cheeks-gives me away, making him knit his brows together with worry.

"What's the matter?" He gently pushes my legs to press against the window, giving him enough room to sit.

"Nothing."

"Hayden," his hand falls to rest on my ankle, "you can talk to me. What's wrong?"

He ducks to meet my eyes, realisation slowly dawning over him and setting his mouth into a grim, half-frown. "You know, don't you?"

I sigh. "Yeah. I do."

He drops his head, nodding gently as he mulls everything over. While I watch him process this, I think that maybe I should've done more to pursue a friendship with the twins. If I had, maybe they would've told me sooner. I relied so heavily on Harry, Remus and Sirius, casting the others aside in the midst of my own confusion. If I were more open to them, willing to find a middle ground instead of settling for distance, I might not feel so blindsided by everything that's come to light.

Being so lost, so hurt, is my own fault.

"I know-" Fred starts, looking up with sympathy, "I know that I don't really get a say in the matter. But... go easy on ol' Georgie, will you?"

Go easy on him?

All things considered, I've been far too easy on him.

Offence takes me aback, offence he seems to read, and he speaks up before I can retort, "I know it hasn't been easy for you. And I'm not trying to take away from that. But try to see things from his perspective. He loves you-Merlin, he loves you so much-and he had you ripped away from him, only to fight to get you back and realise you don't even remember him."

I clench my jaw and fidget with my fingers, avoiding his piercing eyes. "He asked us not to tell you." He sighs, sounding defeated. "We all told him that, knowing you, you'd want the whole truth. Who wouldn't? But he insisted you heal and that it be the only thing you worry yourself over."