Multi-fandom Oneshots

Two Broken Souls {Fred Weasley}

The war had ruined everyone. It had taken away children from their parents, it had left children, orphans, it took away friends, and it took away lovers.

Everyone had felt that slight relief once Harry had officially destroyed Voldemort. But it was soon replaced with a weight heavier than the world itself. They were the ones who were left. The ones who had made it. But they were also the ones who had to continue living with the people they loved having been taken from them.

I was one of them. The most important person in my world had been ripped out of it and left alone, his body lying in the halls of our school. I was the one who stayed. I couldn't leave. I could never leave him. As Percy ran down the halls, going after Fred's killer and Ron being stopped from following his older brother in their plan of revenge, the golden trio had eventually left too.

I was the one left to protect what was left of him. I fought off Death Eaters, killing them whenever they dared come too close. I helped other students. But I stayed standing right in front of him. I stayed until Percy came back and brought him down on one of the cots within the Great hall. I stayed as the Weasley's all came rushing in to find Fred was dead. I stayed as they cried.

I stayed, watching from the Great Hall as Voldemort announced Harry's death. Even after Harry had officially destroyed Voldemort, I stayed by his side, still thinking— hoping— that Fred was going to sit up, laugh, and say it was all some sort of sick joke.

But it wasn't. It didn't feel like a joke as they eventually moved all the dead bodies from the Great Hall. It didn't feel like a joke when we arranged the funeral. It didn't feel like a joke when his body lay in that coffin that slowly fell into the ground.

After the funeral, George had requested to be alone with the grave for a while. It hurt to hear his voice. There were clear differences in them. But oh how they were so similar... Though they looked different, it still hurt to look at George. And it wasn't his fault. Of course not. But I couldn't help the pain that exploded within me whenever he was around.

I apparated back to the apartment above the shop. I looked around and could feel the empty, lonely feeling crawl up inside of me. A coldness was washed over the once warm home. I walk through, letting my fingers brush against the couch, the kitchen island, the materials of their next invents still splayed out all over the counter. I let my fingers brush over everything he had once touched, hoping to feel the same spark I felt whenever my hands pressed against his.

I walk into our room. How big it felt now. How deserted.

I take off my coat and place it next to his. I pick up his jacket and bring it to my face. I inhale deeply, trying to feel the sense of calm I would feel whenever he held me in his arms. Gunpowder and cinnamon. Peppermint. Such weird smells and yet they were the only thing to bring me peace.

Peace may be a strange word to use as I immediately started crying. My chest tightened and my eyes stung. No matter the pain and memories it brought for someone no longer here, I inhale again, his scent bringing me to sob. My body shakes as sobs wrack through me. My throat clogs and I wheeze, crying harder.

I stumble back, letting his jacket fall to my lap as I fall onto the bed. I sit and stare at his desk in the corner. Drawings of future ideas scribbled out and a complete mess. My eyes fall onto the portrait he had drawn of me after our fifth year at Hogwarts that was pinned to the wall. It was during the summer at Burrow. A butterfly had fallen on my nose and Fred demanded I stop and let him draw me. It looked beautiful. Far more beautiful than I thought I looked like. But Fred swore up and down it was an exact replica of me.

I force my eyes away from the drawing and back down at my lap. I curl my fingers into my hair and watch as the tears fall down onto his jacket.

When I'm sure my legs can hold me, I stand up and place his jacket in the exact spot I had taken it from. I look outside and watch the sun begin to set. The apartment was empty. George wasn't back. I didn't expect him too— at least for a bit.