Harry Potter Oneshots

George Weasley - Broken Families, Healing Memories

I shouldn't be here, but my feet won't move. There's only forward for me, so I open the long abandoned painting and searched for a familiar redhead. It was only luck and gut feeling that led me here, but apparently I was right. I walked over to George's crouched, fetal position, and sat down, right next to him. The tears were gone, only an eating, deepless void, an unfillable hole where everyone who died should've been.

George raised his head, his face tear stained, and he looked like he might cry more. I don't say anything, I don't try to put on a brave face, or smile, I just stared with my own sorrowful eyes, my own losses reflecting themselves from the deepest part of my soul. Somehow, the silence was enough comfort for me to feel like maybe I can stop the tears now. George shifted and tucked his head into the crook of my neck, searching for a nonexistent haven in my broken parts. And somehow, that's enough for both of us to feel slightly whole. I leaned my own head against his and closed my eyes, jumping into the lake of fear and sorrow headfirst.

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I couldn't go home, I really, really couldn't. Mother allowed me to stay at the Weasley's, and Molly was fine with it. But I couldn't bring myself to go to a home without Tonks in it. Teddy was home, I knew that, but my godmother duties had to wait. I couldn't go home when I was an utter mess.

My place of stay was with George, and while I spoke, George was completely quiet. I could tell he needed me, but every time I sat by him and we mourned in the silence, I felt a part of me break, like I was being hurt by staying silent. I didn't want to disturb the other Weasleys in their own mourning though, so I kept my mouth shut and helped George to the best of my abilities while trying to put myself back together.

I went on walks frequently to help me clear myself when thoughts of sorrow were the only things on my mind. Sometimes I would sit somewhere and just listen, watch, and appreciate. I was trying. I was trying so very hard to fix what had been broken. It was hard when the world was against you—killing your family members and then expecting you to be fine.

The Wizarding World itself was making its own small steps in rebuilding everything that was torn apart. Everything would be back to normal soon, but that didn't mean the scars would disappear too, I knew that much. I was worried about what would happen when the world was back on its feet, and expected me to be back together as well. Would I be able to move from this? Sometimes I felt like I was just doing the motions. I wasn't there, I was trapped in a cage while my body subconsciously kept me alive. In reality, I was dying inside.

The Burrow had felt like a prison on occasion too. There was so much I was keeping to myself in fear of hurting others in their own mourning, that I simply kept it stored away for the night. But home would be worse, Teddy would be worse. So I endured sitting in pain with George.

Speaking of George, there were many days where I sat with him in his room, or on his bed, and the both of us just sat with our heads against of one another, staring off into space. It was my way of showing to him I was here—barely. Maybe if I faked it for long enough, it would be the truth. Maybe if I acted as George's rock, I would become that rock; I would be ok.

There were many days in a row when I so strongly felt George's grief radiating off of him that it brought tears to my eyes, reminding me of my own pain. Then there were days when I felt the anger off of him with his grief. But most of all, there were days where I felt both, and just a tiny bit of hopelessness in it. I knew it was hopelessness, because I felt it too. Maybe those dead had died because I wasn't there to help them. Maybe I could've done something, maybe I could've changed something. If there were still time turners, maybe the law of time could bend under my will. But inside, you know, there was nothing you could do now, or a day, a week, a month, a year, or a decade later. It was all hopeless.