Harry Potter One Shot And Imagine Book

Fred Weasley

  The war had taken so much from everyone. Taken innocence, taken parents, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives; it seemed that nobody was safe from the path of destruction. Even a year after the war, many were still plagued with mourning people ripped away from them by the clutches of war. Fred Weasley was one of them. They had just started their lives together, finally going through with everything they had talked and planned about during those nights wrapped in each other’s arms as they hid from the Professors and Prefects. Those hopes and dreams for the future were now just empty memories and proof of their love. The book that held every little detail of their planned future laid on your desk in your bedroom - untouched since the last time you had touched it before the war. Everything of yours remained in the place you had set them the last time you had touched them. They were frozen in a happier time filled with love and light, not filled with loneliness and darkness. 

  Fred stirred awake, the familiar feeling of his body being weighted down rushing over him as he blinked his eyes open. His void gaze instantly met the empty side of the bed. It was neatly made, the pillow just faintly smelling of you now. Even a year later, he couldn’t bring himself to lay on that side of the bed - your side of the bed. He had a hard enough time sleeping in the bed at all, not being able to forget the feeling of you wrapped in his arms. Tears burned his eyes as he gazed upon the spot, your laughter echoing in his mind as he remembered all of those mornings he woke up to you just waking up yourself. He’d lean in, nabbing his first kiss of the day and you’d pull away with red cheeks claiming that you hadn’t brushed your teeth yet and he’d claim not to care (which he didn’t) and lean in to pepper kisses all over your face - your laughter bouncing off the walls. He threw the covers off him, trying to fight against the weight trying to keep him down in the bed. Pushing against the invisible force he shuffled into the bathroom to brush his teeth. 

  With ever step he took, every room he entered, came the memory of you. The tune you hummed as you danced from the bedroom to the bathroom, the smell of your shampoo, the smell of your sweet perfume. They lingered through the house like a ghost - a hazy mist trailing behind him everywhere he went. The ball in his throat stung as he tried to swallow it down, blinking away from the tears that welled in his eyes. No matter how many times he experienced them a day since you died, he would never get used to the sting. He’d never get used to the shaking of his hands, the tightness growing in his chest, the racing of his heart, the constricting of his lungs or the vivid image of holding you in his arms, watching the life slip from your body as you took your last breath whenever he heard something that brought him back to that day. 

  He could smell the fresh coffee that his brother had brewed as he drifted into the hall, a shell of the old Fred. George was used to seeing his brother dancing down the hallway with you, large smiled on both your faces and laughter surrounding the entire apartment. Now, since you were gone, Fred didn’t dance, his feet were heavy against the floors, weighing him down. He didn’t joke around with his brother anymore, his brother missed the sound of his laughter and the humorous tone to his voice instead of the broken and heavy one he had now. The second Fred entered the small kitchen, his eyes instantly landed on the yellow mug with the faint lipstick stain still on the rim, the faded red still a slight contrast from the yellow of the mug. You had never been able to get the stain gone, it had driven you crazy that your lip stick had tainted the beautiful mug Fred had gotten you after you guys ran away from Hogwarts as a homage to your house, Hufflepuff. The plants that you had been growing thanks to your love for Herbology were barely alive, George having been trying his best to take care of them since he knew you’d want them to thrive. 

  “Morning, Freddie,” George’s voice was soft as he brought his own mug to his lips, sipping the warm coffee. “Made you some eggs,” He told his brother as he pushed a plate of scrambled eggs towards his moping brother before setting a full cup of coffee in front of him. “How’d you sleep?” He asked him. Fred, not lifting his head from his plate of eggs as he pushed them around with the fork George had laid on the plate. 

  “Fine.” It was a simple word, but it was most of what Fred spoke these days. George hummed, taking another large gulp of his coffee as he let Fred soak in his silence, knowing that if he pushed too hard, he’d revert back and lose all the progress they had made. 

  “Are you feeling ready for your appointment today? Do you want me to come with you? Or mum, maybe Ginny? I can get Lee to cover the shop if you want me to come.” George asked him, setting his coffee cup on the counter, his hands wrapped around the warm mug.

  “I’m fine going on my own.” He muttered, thinking back to his night. He knew that his therapist would ask him about it. It was just like any other night. Sleepless since whenever he closed his eyes, you were all he saw. He knew that if he’d sleep long enough, he could dream of you and it’d be like you never left, but he’d also know that you’d tell him that he’ll be fine without you and he definitely knew he’d never be. You were his. 

  “Please don’t skip out on this one to sit at the bar and drink, Fred,” George pleaded with his brother. Last two appointments, Fred and went on his own and ended up not even showing up. When his therapist George (them having to have gotten a muggle landline for communication) to inform him that Fred had not shown up, he had search everywhere for him. George remembered the blinding fear he had coursing through his blood that day, not knowing where his brother was or if he was okay. His mind had jumped to every possible conclusion, the nagging thought of the worst hanging in the back of his mind. “You need these appointments, they are good for you,” George pleaded. Fred only nodded, not saying anything while he ate. George watched him take a few more bites before his fork clanged against the plate about still half full of eggs. Fred pushed it away, taking one final sip of his coffee. “Right, so your appointment’s at twelve, so why don’t you get an outfit picked out while I head down to the shop - Mum will be here in a few minutes, I reckon.” George suggested. 

  Fred hummed, walking back into his room. Molly had been coming over to monitor when Fred left for his appointments and got back, also to watch the phone incase he skipped over his appointment. She also came daily when George was manning the shop to watch over Fred and take care of him. Sometimes, Fred went down to the shop and sorted products, but that was rare. George popped his head into Fred’s room to see him sitting on the bed. In his hands, he held your favourite shirt of his. He stared down at it while a mismatched outfit laid on the bed beside him. “I’m heading down to the shop, love you.” George announced. 

  “Love you, George.” The sound broke George’s heart. The fear in his brother’s voice every time George left the apartment destroyed him. Fred was terrified of losing someone else and not getting to be there for them, that he can never let them leave his presence without him saying that he loves them. His biggest fear was that you had died not knowing that he still loved you. Everyone says that you knew because you could feel his love for you and he doesn’t want anyone to question if he loved them if he wasn’t there. 

  The second he heard the door close behind George, he let himself crash down on the bed, laying on his side in a fetal position as he held the shirt to his nose. His jaw was sore as he let the tears fall from his eyes, the lump in his throat twisting itself into a bigger lump. His body shook with silent sobs. He couldn’t help but envision you moving through the apartment with this shirt tucked into your pants or tied up. He hadn’t felt himself slip into sleep as he let himself imagine your arms wrapping around him, encasing him in a loving warmth. He was unaware of his mother walking into the apartment as he finally slept with his imagination configuring you there with him. Molly instantly went to his room to check on him when he wasn’t on the couch, she stopped in her tracks as she laid eyes on her sleeping son, curled up. She only saw Fred sleeping in a fetal position clutching a t-shirt, but Fred felt the ghost of you wrapped around him.