The Weasley Twins One Shot Book

Fred Weasley: Paralyzed

Prompt: You gave yourself for him during the Battle of Hogwarts. he's so utterly shocked that he doesn't know what to do with himself. (sad one. sorry)
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There you were. Motionless. Your skin growing colder by the second. All except for the surface of your hands which your lover had wrapped tightly in his own. His tears soaking into your torn and dusty clothes as loud, broken sobs escaped his shaking body.

The Weasleys stayed with him to comfort him on the floor of the Great Hall but it didn't help Fred much. He was only focused on you. On your now lifeless body in front of him reminding him of how he failed to keep safe the only woman who's ever truly loved him. You're gone now. Gone. And it's his fault.

The sheer amount of pain in his cries was hard for his family to hear. His family and his close friends who were there to support him and grieve your loss on their own accord as well. But it was obvious to the surrounding people that Fred was the most affected by your death.

He blamed himself. He blamed himself entirely and knew he always would. Your body was broken. In many places. You had cracked ribs which impaled your heart- which was what killed you instantly. There wasn't any pain. It was a quick passing which was comforting for your friends to hear.

Both of your arms were broken on impact of the rubble from the explosion. As was one of your legs. Obviously, Madam Pomfrey fixed your broken bones so you were easier to move and didn't look too bloodied up as your loved ones grieved your loss. Which everyone was grateful for.

Especially now that Fred had laid across your chest, his ear pressed to your upper breast, praying to hear your heart start beating again. Praying for a sudden breath in like he'd seen in those muggle romance movies his father always played on the family TV at night before bed.

Or maybe even a true love's kiss to revive you. He couldn't get himself to look upon your pale, expressionless face. He felt so utterly broken. And weak. He was immobile. If they hadn't won the war, and the chaos still filled the air, he'd still be lying on the floor with you anyway. To protect your body. To protect what he had left of you.

To hold on to what fragment of his little light was left.

He couldn't let his sorrow transform into rage. Or anger. Because he knew the Death Eater that had killed you was dead. He had killed him the second he shot that curse at the wall behind you before it crushed you.

He got his revenge. But he lost his love.

He didn't have the strength to be mad at himself. He was, sure, but every time he worked up even the slightest bit of anger with himself, he'd realize where he was, who's body he was holding, and he'd break all over again.

George had gotten down on the floor next to his twin. Hearing his cries of pain made his knees give out as he felt his heart break for him. George tried his best to comfort Fred, crying with him and rubbing his back, but it obviously wasn't doing much to console him or his cries.

Fred placed his forehead against yours, cold and pale, and began whispering to you. Whispering something he had prepared within the first month of you two dating back in your third year. His vows to you. Wedding vows.

They were so quiet that no one could hear them. No one except George. Who's already broken fragments of his heart felt crushed even further where they were broken in the floor of his being. He remembered hearing Fred recite them to George after he wrote them in their Burrow bedroom.

That's when George saw right through his twin. Saw that maybe this wasn't just a crush. Or a temporary infatuation. The way that his eyes sparkled when he read his vows he had scribbled on the stray piece of parchment held feelings and emotions he hadn't ever seen in Fred.

Now hearing those same words being recited to his brother's now deceased girlfriend broke him more than he thought possible.

Tears from Fred's eyes dripped onto your cheeks as he finished whispering his vows to you. That's when he weakly leaned back into George's arms and buried himself into his brother's chest.

He just needed comfort. He needed familiarity. He needed to be held.

George tightened his grip on his brother and leaned forward to wipe Fred's tears from your cheeks. Fred watched helplessly as George tucked your hair behind your ear for you and gently stroked his hand down your face. Just like he had done during a panic attack you had after a detention with Umbridge a few years back.

It was the closure that George needed. But he knew Fred would be different. He also knew that right now all Fred needs is for someone to allow him to break on them. Allow him to become completely and utterly weak and helpless, and have them help him revive himself. Bit by bit. And slowly. Not to force him.

To remind him of all of the things you used to tell him that made him feel better during those nights he'd break due to stress or overthinking. You were the only one besides George who had witnessed him break. Witnessed his heart in its rawest form.

Well. Until now. Now he's in his most vulnerable form in front of absolutely everyone. The overwhelming grief numbing his every other thought, emotion, and insecurity.

Fred nestled further into George's tight embrace as he hyperventilated... having his first (of many) panic attacks due to losing you... and passed out in his brother's arms. George, who had dealt with this version of Fred before, knew to just keep holding Fred. To keep him comfortable. And to provide him reassurance when he woke up.

For now, while your friends and honorary family, the Weasleys, mourned your loss... George gently ran his fingers through his brother's hair, fixing it the way that he likes it.

Faintly, under his breath, he whispered to him.

"I'm right here, Freddie. You're safe. It's me and you now. You'll always have me."