Just Around the Corner || A G. Weasley Story

The Sun Sets

TW: Panic attack, severe anxiety, overall sadness :((

Song recommendation: "Favorite Crime" By: Olivia Rodrigo, "Cellophane" By: FKA Twigs

This chapter is looking into George's life while all this chaos has been happening. There is a flashback as well. (flashbacks to Hogwarts are in all italics in this fic. Flashbacks to something during JATC are not. Single lines in italics seen in this chapter are flashbacks to past dialogue) Just let me know if it gets confusing. There are two different point of views in this chapter also. 

You may want to reread "Flowers Fall" before reading this chapter. There is a lot of reference to it. 

I'm in love with you. Isn't that enough?

No, it's not. Maybe if I felt the same. 

The exchange plagued him, ripping his heartstrings into tiny little shreds. George could recall only one time in his life when he felt so miserable, when he thought he had lost Fred. But thankfully that only lasted a few long hours.

George was starting his third week without Cassandra.

He wasn't sure what hurt more, the exact moment she pulled his heart out or having to walk around without it for days upon days.

He was sure if he asked Fred's opinion, he would have an immediate answer, as he was there just minutes after she walked into the night... not only taking her things, her person, her smile as she left, she also had stolen a piece of George. 

__________

It all happened so fast. Her packing. Him pleading. His confession. Her response.

George didn't even think it was real for a few seconds, just staring at the spot she had stood when those words left her lips in a warped slow-motion.

Eventually, the realization hit him like a truck, like falling from the sky off his broomstick, smacking the ground hard, wind knocked out of him.

His knees collapsed out from underneath of him with the same intensity as lighting striking metal, his body not being able to support both him and his new found misery, opting for the latter.

A sharp inhale was shaky as his lungs geared up for groundbreaking sobs, he tried to fight them off, trying to swallow the the painful, growing lump in his throat. He managed to mask them as he struggled to breathe, weezing as he knew he needed to leave the storefront, to stop searching for her ghost, mindlessly heading back to the office.

He stumbled on his way, shuffling his feet, his body becoming too heavy too fast, a sponge soaking up pain like water.

Finally he made it to the door, closing it and collapsing again, no longer able to force down the sobs. He wailed, almost like the night of his splinching though he'd take that a million times over this.

...

Fred was up in his room working out to rock music when he thought he heard a commotion downstairs. Turning down the music, some sort of muffled sound rang out, though it was soft and broken, not following any rhythm.

He grabbed his wand, figuring the intruders had returned. Like hell he was going to let the bastards get away again. He marched into George's room, not bothering to knock, though no one was there. Neither Cassandra nor George.