As Lavender Brown's body lay amongst the ruins of what was once her home, she watched a family grieve the loss of one of their own, wondering why fate had so cruelly dealt them such cards. From a young age, all she wanted was to love and be loved in...
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»»» "IS it my fault?"
Fred's eyes snapped to his brother's, immediately looking away miserably. He shook his head, but it was futile. George had taken his first reaction as his response. Giving one more look at him, he turned around to head back into the store. The action triggered some small part of him that refused to watch his brother walk away.
"George please! Please don't just leave me like this," Fred called, his voice raspy. Like previously, his legs stiffened and remained rooted in their spot. This time though, he didn't even need to picture his companion in order to push himself to move. Half expecting his body to dematerialise, he dragged himself after George.
"I can explain! There's so much you don't understand, and quite frankly, I don't really understand it either. Besides the point really. George you have to listen to me; I wanted to talk to you again," said Fred, blinking his own tears away.
"Talk to me?!" George yelled, stopping in his tracks. He spun around, pointed a finger at him, nostrils flared, jaw clenched, with a small twitch in his lips as if the rational side of him was struggling to compete with his instincts. "You lied. You came back and lied to me!"
"Well it's not exactly something I can slip into conversation!" Fred shouted back, surprising himself. All the pent up frustration on his situation was finally making itself known. "Oh hello Georgie, hope all is well with you. Sorry for messing up whilst your girlfriend decided to do a runner - oh and I end up dying in the Battle of Hogwarts. My spirit is trapped here though so I thought I'd pop in for a cuppa and we can catch up over some pies. How's that?"
"There's a battle?" George asked quietly. Fred shut his eyes, mentally scolding himself for letting his anger get the better of him.
"Yes," he said in a calmer tone, allowing the tears he had spent so long trying to bury, fall. "I'm not sure how it ends, but by Merlin we better win," he admitted, wiping his nose with his arm. He wanted nothing more than for someone to hold his hand and tell him that everything would be alright.
"And you - you don't ma- you di-" George stuttered, stopping short when Fred shook his head.
In hindsight, Fred realised he should have predicted his brother's actions. Out of the two of them, he always had the tendency to act first and think later, with multiple memories providing ample evidence. Never for a moment did he consider his sudden appearance would cause a difficult interaction with George. He could see the fatigue building up in the wrinkles that decorated his forehead, a small indicator of the sleepless nights that were plaguing him. He wanted nothing more than to be held, especially when a nasty voice reminded him that it could very well be the last time.
So when George looked up, his expression carefully guarded, Fred wasn't suspicious at all. This was his brother after all. They could recognise what the other needed with a simple glance. For so long they were grouped as a pair, so much so, Fred hadn't realised how lonely he had been feeling until this moment.
