George,dirty,filthy,weak and devastated,messily clambered into his room,closing the door with a quiet thud. His room. That struck at him hard. Wasn't this meant to be both his and his twin's room? It should be,but no one seemed to notice this. Did they not realise,that George,always happy and cheerful,now loomed sad and hungry,hungry for his brother? George walked stumby over to his bed,slowly setting himself down on it with a small creak. His bed was closest to the window,which,at the moment,was closed and quite dusty. George swallowed thickly,feeling a burning in his chest. It was painful. He didn't understand. Why had this pain stayed so close to him,seemingly declaring that it would never leave him? He knew very clearly why. Two weeks it had been,and yet he was still in such a mental shock about Fred. His younger brother,his twin,his friend,his partner in crime. Gone? It was so hard to believe. Fred had always been the crueller one with everything,most people ended up realising this. So how had this caring,yet cruel,man die? This made George shudder. It should've never of been Fred. It should've been him. He should've been crushed by all the bricks that piled themselves over Fred. It should've been the caring George to be killed. George silently watched the window,no noise other than his shaky breathing,and the muffled voices coming from downstairs. Did anyone even care? George sometimes thought bitterly. Did anyone care that the bestest,funniest little brother had been killed two weeks ago? Well,George certainly did. He felt terrible. He felt as if HE had killed his brother. But,even if he hadn't,it still stayed clear in his mind. His dull eyes,looking up into nothingness,laying so still,the ghost of his last laugh etched across his face. George felt light headed. When was his last shower? Oh yes,he hadn't had one since the battle. George stared at the window,thinking hardly about him and his brother. If he had known that he would lose his twin at age twenty,he would've protected him so much more. That was it. How could he handle this? He wanted his little brother. He wanted him wit him right now,both laughing happily,planning who to tease next:Ron or Percy. George slowly stood from his bed,cautiously making his way very slow paced over to Fred's bed. No,wait,that was wrong,it was Fred's old bed. He remembered so vividly of the day when Ron was forced to dance with Professor McGonagall,it was one of the funniest things they'd set eyes on. It would still make George snigger and chuckle cheerfully,if a dead man,a dead brother,a dead friend had been so involved in the scene. That was the problem. Every memory (maybe not every) had his twin in it. Both grinning widely,laughing so happily,sneaking around Hogwarts,annoying Filch,and teasing their other brothers. George brought a dirty and shaky,quivering hand to where his ear once was,touching it slyly with light fingers. He partly urged for the hand to be Fred's. Gently swapping at his flaming red hair,lightly touching his now perished ear,joking around so amusingly. George yearned for that grin so much these days. He would never see it. Never again. For Fred was dead,resting somewhere in the ground,and George had nothing to be happy about anymore. He had never noticed it before,until now. Fred was one of the only things that made him happy. He had thought that everything made him happy,but he quickly solved this by realising that Fred was always with him whenever he was happy. George took his shaking hand from the side of his head where his ear should be,and warily looked down at Fred's old bed. It was just how they'd left it two weeks ago. Sheets pulled back and slung over,parts weaving over the side of the bed,the pillow in a crooked poisition,scrunched. Their mum always got mad at them whenever they left their beds like that. George knew that he should go down and see his family. He hadn't gotten out of his room for ages,and the only time he did was very rushed and quick,so none of them had the slightest chance of even talking to him,let along get a response out of him. But,he didn't feel like slumping out of his room and going into the kitchen,where he and Fred would grumpily trudge into,moaning and muttering. And he couldn't stand all those filtering questions that his mum would give him; 'Why haven't you come out? Are you hungry,dear? Now tell me,how has this left you?'What the hell did they think? Of coarse it'd left him hurt! Yet,no,no one understood this. George took his wary gaze from Fred's old bed and looked at the closed door. What would happen if Bil knocked at his door again? Or at least whoever it was. He would never be able to handle that. George breathed in a big,shaky breath,and turned himself to the small desk he and Fred once shared. He weakly headed over to it,his feet making but a whisper. He hadn't eaten in so many days. He slowly sat on the basic,wooden chair,feeling as if a very heavy weight had been placed in his stomach. Surprisingly,George let out a small whimper,leaning his hand out and grabbing some paper,an ink bottle,and Fred's pigeon feathered quill. George practically winced at the touch of something that belonged so solemnly to his twin. It felt to him that a bullet had been shot straight through his chest. George swallowed thickly and shakily,looking down at the thick paper he had lay before him. Would he further regret this? he had to say to himself,but he concluded he wouldn't. He didn't like this. In fact,truthfully,he completely hated it. Taking a deep,shaky breath,the flaming haired man dipped the tip of the quill into the ink bottle,hoisting it out. He readied himself,then,placed the quill to the paper and began squibbling down messily.
I am sorry for ever plaguing any of this on you. And I'm sorry if you ever find this. I needed to write this,though,to tell you everything. What you guys never got was that-I began cutting myself three days after Fred's death. I didn't want to,I really didn't,but I couldn't find any other way. I began growing anxious that you would find out,so I stayed in my room for long periods of time. The cutting got worse,and I began to fall into guilt. I started despising everything,turning myself against everything and everyone,except for him. For Fred. I wanted to bring him back with my soul,my heart,but no. It would never work. I didn't want you to see me like this,so I always snuck out. Don't worry mum-I went to the bathroom and evrything,I'm not that bad. I'm sorry that you've found this. You really don't know how hard it is to write this. You don't know how hard it is to try and attempt to get over your brother's death. Your twin's death. Your friend's death. But,I wanted to write this,to make a few things clear,partically knowing what mum's like. Ok,here goes:
1. I want you all to know that this is what I wanted. No one else,just me. I don't want any of you to feel guilty.
2. I'm sorry I ever started cutting myself. I hate myself since I sank that low,and I'm sorry that made me a ruin.
3. I want to say sorry to Ron. All those times I made fun of him. I want him to know,that I would do anything for him. Anything for Ickle Ronniekins.
4. I want to say sorry to Percy. We always teased him,me and Fred,and I'd really like it if he knew that we always wanted him to be there for us,no matter how arrogant and stubborn he was.
5. Ginny. For one,I'd like to congratulate you on getting with Harry. I remember so clearly when you had that huge crush on him. Good for you Gin.
6. Harry,oh Harry. How I wish right now I could slap you on the back. Happy you got with Ginny,live a good life with her.
7. Bill,I'd just like to say that you were awesome. Really great. Both me and Fred loved you as hell. Enjoy life with Fleur.
8. Charlie. Charlie,though you were practically barely ever with us,I still knew that you'd have open arms ready for us. I'm so happy you came. Thanks for caring so much.
9. Mum,do not start bauling,alright? I want you to truly know that this is what I wanted. I love you dearly,and even though I personally think you went to harsh on the punishments you gave me and Fred,thanks for being there for us.
10. Dad,make sure mum doesn't try to drag me away. I have always loved you,and I always shall.
Right,well,I want to make everything clear. Both me and Fred loved you all very dearly,and would do anything for you. Even if we joked around most of the time we cared. I'm sorry it had to end like this. And I'm sorry you had to find it. But,it's time. I hope and wish for you all to live very happy and cheerful lives,and,unlike me,just forget. I love you all,and I wish the best for every one of you.
George stared hard at this-this thing he'd just wrote. Was it really time? He took a deep and shaky breath and shook his head. It was time. He turned to Fred's old bed and felt his inside twist with sadness and guilt. He shakily placed the quill on the desk and stood,reluctantly slowly pacing to his twin's old bed. He gazed very warily at it,clearly heartbroken. This,is waht it had come to. It made him feel worse. But he could no longer stand it. If this was how it felt in two weeks,how would it feel in a month? He couldn't bare it. The muffled voices grew quiet for a moment,then,grew louder. George needed to do this. No more fighting. No more standing. No more....lying in bed and wishing. Fear plunging through him,George put a dirty and shaky hand into his pant's pockets. He felt what he wanted and,after swallowing shakily,he lightly clutched it,and shakily pulled it out of his pocket. The small dagger-like knife he had stole from the kitchen the second day after Fred had died,was grasped in his shaking,clutched hand. More fear jolted into George's insides. He felt tears,softly leaking from his eyes. He was so scared. So frightened. With a very shaky breath,he hesitantly pulled up his shirt's sleeve. He looked down at his scarred arm,then,took a quick glance at Fred's old bed. George was torn. He wanted to do this,but then he didn't. What if he was making the wrong choice? He shook his head violently,feeling more tears shed from his dark brown eyes. He was making the right choice. He knew he wouldn't be capable to withstand life without his twin,so it was better this way. More fear deepened itself into George as he let out a small whimper,bringing the dagger-like knife to his arm. Tears fell slyly on his arm,making his insides burn more. Taking a very deep,yet shaky breath,he let his hand draw the knife over his scarred arm. Crimson red blood seeped out of the long cut that withered along George's arm,and he took another shaky breath,before digging the knife deeper than all the other times,into his flesh. Pain swept through his already hurt body,making him whimper,more loudly this time. More blood made it's way out of George's arm and he drew the knife over his arm again,deeper. He needed more blood,more pain. He needed to remember this for as long as possible. Blood fell down over his arm,falling drunkily onto the carpet,staining it a very dark red. Groaning quietly,George lightly stabbed the knife into his chest. Pain swelled in his body. He clumsily collapsed on the floor,his upper body resting on Fred's old bed. His body felt on fire,it burned so strongly. He let out a quiet and small cry,hissing in distraught pain. He clutched onto he knife tighter,his blood now staining his twin's old bed. He was becoming very light headed,and he felt much more weaker then what he usually did. His tears stained his cheeks as he closed his eyes tightly,starting to regret doing this. What was the point? Now,he hurt even more. The pain dug further into George,causing him to hiss in pain. He wanted the pain to go away,he hated this terrible feeling. He choked out a small cry,feeling more blood escape him,and feeling his throat enclosing on itself. His hearing had grown very bad,and he couldn't hear properley (or as properley someone with only one ear can) . Where was his family when he needed them? Obviously not here,with him,trying to help him through this. But,something caught his attention as he hissed in understandable pain. A voice. A very familiar one,one George thought he would only ever hear in his memories. "George?" That was.....that was Fred's voice. Had he heard it? Maybe it was because he felt dizzy and lightheaded? Well,George didn't take the chance. He hazily opened his eyes in slits,open enough so he could see,and gazed dizzily at where the voice had come from. Something was there. George shook his head,leading to his head pounding on his skull. He hissed in pain,closing his eyes for a moment and when he warily opened them,he was shocked at what he saw. He was still in his room,half leaning on Fred's old bed,half on the floor,his blood restlessly spurting out of him,immense pain swarming his entire body. But,someone was sitting on the bed on the other side with him. This person was a boy,knowingly,was tall from what he could tell,had flaming red hair,dark brown eyes and was quite filthy,cleaner than George,but was still dirty,wearing a purple jacket that George knew as his......"F-Fred?" George choked out,in merely but a whimper. The red haired boy looked at him,worry written over him. Yet,in his eyes,there was slight.....relief. "George" the boy said reassuringly,shifting himself so that now his face was close to George's and he was practically laying on the bed side ways. "It's alright,it'll end very soon" he said in a promising tone. George looked at him weakly. "Fred? But-but you're-you're d-dead,w-what's happening?" he whimpered at the flaming haired boy. The red haired boy frowned at this,now his entire self looking completely saddened and depressed. "T-that's the thing,G-George" he said quietly,sounding slightly guilty,sitting himself up. "You're.....you're d-dying George,you're g-gonna be d-dead soon...." his voice trailed off. He turned is head as another rush of pain made it's way to George. "Dead?" George repeated quietly,hissing afterwards. "So-so that means you are.....Fred." The red haired boy nodded slightly,still not looking at George. George couldn't help but smile slightly at this. "Fred..." he whispered,putting a hand on the hand keeping the red haired boy sitting up. But to his shock and surprise,his hand went straight through Fred's,a strange feeling of fuzziness over whelming him. Fred whipped his head around to look at George. "You're still coming,George" he said. "You won't be able to touch me just yet." George gazed weakly and warily up at Fred. "Fred,you don't know how much I want this" he choked out,smiling slightly. Fred tilted his head slightly,then chuckled. "Really? Miss me that much?" he laughed,closing his eyes then opening them. George nodded weakly. Then,that's when he noticed something. "Fred! The pain...the pain's going away" he said quietly,starting to feel very strange. Fred grinned. "That means you're nearly gone George" he explained,chuckling slightly. "Soon,me and you can be partners in crime that can go through walls!" George laughed at this. A happy smile swept across his face,as he gazed up at his younger twin. He could feel himself getting stronger,he could feel himself becoming clear headed. His hand that was inside Fred's,was magically pulled out from his hand and now lay atop it,both their hands surprisingy warm. George slowly stood up,as did Fred and he looked around,before turning to Fred. "Am I.....you know...dead?" he asked awkwardly,seeming it stange to be asking such a question to his dead brother. Fred jabbed at George's chest,causing him to growl and shove Fred's hand from his chest. Both he and Fred laughed. "Yeah. You're dead" he said gleefully,looking as if his birthday had come early. George laughed,grinning from ear to ear. "Great!" both twins said together,chuckling slightly. Oh!" Fred said,jumping slightly. "Nearly forgot.." he pulled out of his pant's pockets Filibusters,grinning at George. "Hey George,you thinking what I'm thinking?" he smirked,his eyes shining. George looked at the Filibusters,then,Fred. Grinning,he nodded. With that,Fred shoved some of the Filibusters to George,which he very gladly took. "Trust me Georgie" Fred said eagerly,clapping his hands together happily. 'Being dead comes very handy when you want to prank someone." He chuckled slightly,grinning still. "Like Malfoy,for instance." And with that,George laughed happily,following after his brother to the door that,for some weird reason,was now flung open.
Mrs. Weasley once again knocked on George's closed door,hoping that this time he would answer it. "George,are you all right?" she asked worringly,waiting on the other side of the door for a response. The only thing she heard was a sort of hiss coming from George's room. Knowing that was all she was going to get,Mrs. Weasley sighed heavily,walking back down the stairs. The rest of the Weasley family,and Harry,were seated in the living room,all looking tense. As soon as Mrs. Weasley had come down the stairs,Ginny let out. "Did he say anything?" she blurted out hopefully,holding onto Harry. Mrs. Weasley sighed again,shaking her head. Percy frowned,as Ron turned his head. "He's been in there for days" Percy said,almost pleadingly. "He's most likely starving himself." He looked at Mrs. Weasley. "Mum,we need to go up there." Ron turned back as Charlie piped in. "Mum,Percy's right." "We need to get him out of that room. He's most likely feeling guilty." Bill nodded in agreement,as did Ron and shortly,everyone else. Mrs. Weasley sighed once more. "Oh,all right then" she sighed,and everyone got up. In a small group,they all huddled upstairs and to the door to George's room. "We should knock first" Bill suggested. Mr. Weasley nodded. "Good idea,Bill" he said. Ron came up to the front and knocked on the door three times. "George?" he called,trying to hear any slight sound. "George,we're coming in" he called through the door. Still,there was no sound of movement. "Do you think he's asleep?" Harry said,feeling strange as not being a Weasley,and yet still being here. Ginny shrugged. "George,open the door,or we're all barging in!" she called. Still,no answer,no sound. "George?" Percy called through the door. Still,no sound. Charlie slowly brought his hand to the door knob and twisted it,slowly wrenching the door open slightly. He peered through the small crack and froze. "What?" Bill asked,seeing the look of horror on Charlie's face. "Charlie,what is it?" Charlie didn't say anything. His mouth was open slightly,and he looked completely petrified. "Charlie" Percy said briskly. "Tell us." Charlie looked at them,then through the door,then them again. And then,he let out a small cry like sound,flinging the door open and bolting in,yelling. All the others looked in and froze at what they saw. There,lying on the red stained and drenched carpet,knife next to him,blood seeping from deep cuts on his arm and one on his chest was George,his eyes half open from what they saw. "George!" Ginny screamed,and at that they all ran in,hurrying towards George. Charlie was already crouching beside him,tears falling from his eyes. "It-it's t-too late m-mum,h-he's g-gone..." he whispered,covering his mouth with his hand. Percy crouched down beside Charlie,and the others did as well. Percy grasped onto George's limp shoulder,shaking it gently. "No-no George,no" he muttered,tears starting to fall from his eyes. Harry looked at Fred's bed and saw blood was stained on that as well. Then,he noticed the letter. He slowly got up and grabbed it,heading back to the Weasleys and showing them the letter. Hearing what it'd said,they'd all broke down. It was painful,so very painful. They had lost both twins,both pranksters. The ones that always made things better. With the strength they had,both Charlie and Percy took ahold of George and turned him over. "G-guys" Percy whispered,looking shocked at what they saw on his face. It made them feel twice as worse,unfortunately taking it the wrong way. George's brown eyes were half closed and dull,looking into nothingness,laying so very still,and to their huge surprise the ghost of his last laugh etched across his face.