After (A Fred, George, and Reader story)

Broken Mirrors and Bloody Knuckles

After a tasteless breakfast you headed up to the bathroom near Fred, George, and Percy's rooms. The only thing that separated Fred and George from Percy was that bathroom. And Charlie had moved in with Percy again for the week before he would head to Canada where there was said to be some kind of 'viridi Pacem' dragon. When you got up you were about to knock on the door to make sure none of the boys were in there, but before you could you heard a loud thump and a stifled sob. You stepped back, gasping. Who? What...? Why? You peeked through a small crevice in the creaking door. It was George. He was leaning over the sink crying and every time he'd glance up at the mirror it sent a new wave of sobs over him. You opened the door wider, revealing yourself. George looked over at you and breathed in sharply, as if trying to suck the sadness from his face. You glimpsed the mirror beside you both, George still staring intently at you, wondering what you would do. A circular crack had taken place on the left side of the mirror. Right where George was, as if someone had punched it. George's right knuckle was bleeding, dripping crimson blood all over the cold floor. George didn't look at the mirror, he just watched you with a nearly pleading expression. As if begging you not to tell anyone. It all added up, something clicked in your mind. The broken mirror, the bloody fist, the glistening tears lining George's red face. He couldn't look in the mirror without seeing Fred. You pursed your lips, a single tear trailing your face. There had been more tears in the past two days than there had been in your whole life. But your greatest love was gone. Gone for good. But you knew you were coming, you'd make it to where ever he was. But for now, you and George would just have to tough it out together. You walked forward slowly but George took a step back. He looked at his fist then quickly at the mirror with a wince. But within the time it had taken him to do that you had gotten some toilet tissue and was coming to George who reached out his good hand to take it from you, but you paid no attention and extended your left hand to grab with right. He tried too late to pull it back but you gripped it hard and quick. He flinched a little. "Sorry." You muttered automatically, not realizing the weight of the situation and you wished you could have taken it back immediately, for you were sorry for much more things than just squeezing his wrist too hard. He said nothing. Because if he had answered with, 'It's fine' or anything. You would have broken down. Because it wasn't fine, it really wasn't. You returned your attention to his hand, still gripping the sides a little to keep him from pulling back. You dabbed around the wound, checking for glass. Luckily nothing had gotten into it. You didn't have your wand with you, since it was still in Fred and George's room. So you just wrapped it so that infection wouldn't creep in and you kissed on top of the paper. Looking up at George's brown eyes. Just slightly lighter than Fred's.

You decided to go hang out with Hermione and Ginny to try to keep your mind off of the battle of Hogwarts. And as you passed the kitchen, Mrs. Weasley called out to George, who had walked down beside you to grab some chocolate frogs. "Fred! Come help me with the..." She trailed off, bursting into tears and pulling George into a bone-crushing hug and all George could say was, "Merlin, woman, and you call yourself our mother." Which made Harry pull Ginny and Ron into a hug. And I guessed that that had something to do with a moment between them. Hermione looked to me, a lone tear trickling down her face. "When Harry first met the Weasleys, Fred and George pretended to be one another as a trick on their mum. Th-that was what George had said when she called for one of them to go through the door after Percy..." I couldn't believe they remembered back to our 3rd year. Oh, the year that had been. George had gotten his first girlfriend. Fred and I had made fun of him for it, all the while Fred wouldn't stop talking about her. Turning me into a jealous monster. That was when I had told George about my crush on Fred, and surprisingly, he had kept the secret up until our 5th year. I gave a small smile to Hermione, feeling the cold tear falling down my sore left side.