HP Requests/Imagines/Scenarios

Post Battle At Hogwarts

Absolutely nO one requested this but I like to make myself cry.

Warnings: Fred's death.

I wasn't sure how long it had been since we had come home. Since the funeral. Since I had last eaten, the small plates of crackers that Ginny had been bringing me every afternoon and taking away nearly full.

I didn't even feel the pangs of hunger anymore. I didn't cry anymore. I just laid in his bed, breathing in the familiar scent that I knew would fade away any day now.

There was a soft knock on the door which I didn't answer, laying motionless, my hand tucked beneath my head on the pillow, my eyes locked on the carpeting.

"Hey..." My heart cracked at the voice. George had visited only a few times, after the funeral, the first couple of days after we came back from Hogwarts. His visits grew less and less when he realized he couldn't cheer me up, no matter how hard he tried, how many jokes he forced out, as if his heart wasn't broken in half all the same.

"George, please." I croaked, my voice sounding foreign from lack of use.

"Come on." He muttered, coming closer to the bed as I covered my eyes with my arm. It hurt. Looking at him hurt. "Please come downstairs, everyone's worried, Mum's got dinner ready, you need to-"

"George, STOP!" I cried, hearing him trail off. "Stop, I can't."

"You can't what?" He asked softly.

"I can't..." My voice broke, and I carried on in a whisper. "You sound just like him. Please go." The tears were back, streaming down onto Fred's pillow.

He didn't speak again, though I heard him sigh before moving towards the door.

I gasped in a breath, the tears feeling hot against my cheeks. I didn't look up as the bed sank beside me, George lifting my head into his lap, his fingers falling into my hair.

"It's okay. I'm here." He said, slowly, pulling strands of my hair through his fingers softly.

"George, don't." I whimpered, burying my face against his leg.

"It's okay. For a little while. It's fine." He answered and I wondered how many more times my heart could crack before it was too late. "You can stay up here. As long as you want. Everything's fine."

I didn't answer, knowing it wasn't true. I would eventually have to leave. The bed. The room. The house.

"I love you." He spoke softly, the words sounding so familiar, and I had my answer. One more time. It could crack one more time.