Harry Potter One-Shots

Inhale | Exhale

[this story is something I've always been curious of] 

          "just 'cause you're breathing, doesn't mean you're alive,"

        November 1998
             Angelina Johnson

     "I hate this place," my voice cracked and my nose ran a bit in the brisk air that billowed around me, "I hate this place more than anything in the world, Fred."

     Roughly, I rubbed my gloved hand against my cheeks and glared down at Frederick Gideon Weasley's tombstone. It as nestled in the midst of Godric's Hollow, along with the multiple other brave students and adults that had given everything on that fateful day to save Hogwarts. To save the world.

     "But," I sniffled, glad no one else was around to see my tears, "But, I guess I always knew you'd make it here one day, you know? You always gave so much for your friends and the people you loved."

     It was hard to believe that a few months had already passed the world by without Fred. On May 2nd I not only lost a friend, I also lost a piece of my soul, a piece of my history. The dynamic duo turned to the single George, and then, I lost George too.

     George. The man that I'd always sought out in my times of pain and hurt from Fred's jokes and cold shoulders. Growing up, I'd had a thing for Fred. He was charismatic, electric, and everyone knew it. But, he was blunt too, and he couldn't see how badly I had craved for him to see me as more than a friend.

     It wasn't until my sixth year that I realized how good George was for me. He had always been my shoulder to cry on. My rock when Quidditch was too much. My advisor when I needed a helping hand. 

               I lost him on May 2nd.

     That George was long gone. All that remained was the shell of a man, curled up inside of himself and burying his mind and soul into inventions for the joke shop. It killed me every time.

     A sob broke my chest and I waved my hands around my body, as if I was trying to grasp onto anything - maybe the spirit of Fred. I just wanted Fred back. I just wanted George to smile again. I just wanted them.

          "F-Fred, I need you now more then e-ever," I admitted, ducking my head as I felt the hot tears of memories roll down my cheeks, lips trembling, "G-George needs you."

     There was only the sound of the crisp wind blowing through the trees in response to my pleading. That was the only sound that greeted me whenever I visited Fred at these early hours of the morning. I made it a point to visit Godric's Hollow once a week, but with life beginning to start back up once more, I was finding it difficult to stick to my pact.

     Clearing my throat, I swiped under my wet eyes and spared the tombstone a watery smile, "Right, well. I'll see you soon, okay?" In my mind, I pictured Fred sitting on the stone, rolling his eyes at my emotions. 'Yeah, yeah, Angie - come on,' he'd say, 'No need to cry so much, really.'

     Swallowing the lump in my throat I gathered up the rest of my resolve as I apparated to Diagon Alley, in front of Weasley's and Weasley's. The mannequin frowned down at me; it had been broken since the day of Fred's funeral. I constantly asked George to fix it, but he always brushed it aside. 

     I knew a simple charm would fix the problem, but I was well aware that this was a part of his grieving process. It hadn't been nearly enough time for George to function properly without Fred. Before stepping into the depressing atmosphere that George shrouded himself in, I decided to walk across the street and get the two of us our morning coffees.