Death is strange. I haven't had much experience with it. I briefly remember the deaths of my uncles, Fabian and Gideon, though. Fred and I were always quite close with them when we were little, probably due to the fact that they were also twins. I didn't really understand death at the time. I was only three when they died. They just stopped coming over. We didn't get our regular supply of Zonko's for Christmas from them. We never saw them again. They just stopped existing. At the time, it wasn't sad, although now that I think about them, there's a twinge of pain in my chest. It's strange that I will never see them again. I'll never properly know them.
When our father breaks the news to us that our grandfather, Septimus Weasley, has passed away, it is sad. We didn't see him very often, maybe twice a year at most, but it's heavy, and my chest tightens at the thought that my grandfather is no longer living. Even though I rarely saw him, I was content knowing he would be sitting at home reading the Daily Prophet or listening to the radio with our grandmother. I don't cry, though. Dad tells us, as we sit around the table in the kitchen, that it's not sad. Our grandfather lived a long and happy life, and we should celebrate his life, not mourn his death. Ginny cries anyway, and I stand up and wrap my arms around her. I hold her tightly with one arm and stroke her hair with my hand, comforting her.
"I know this is sad, kids, but it's okay," our mother says quietly, sending us a watery smile. "Your grandfather was a very happy man. He wouldn't want us to be sad."
"Well, at least we don't have to pretend we like those horrible sweets he sent us for Christmas every year," Fred says lightly, trying to raise the spirits of the family. Everyone laughs, and Ginny pulls away from me, chuckling as she wipes away her tears with her sleeve. I sit back down next to Fred and cross my arms over my chest.
"And we won't have to listen to jazz music on the radio every time he comes round," Dad muses, grinning widely as we all crack up a little. It felt a little weird, laughing about the death of a family member, but humour has always been my way of coping with uncomfortable or emotional situations. Fred has always been the same. It's built into Fred and me like a natural instinct. The world doesn't make sense to us if you can't laugh about something. I think laughing is good for you.
It's mine and Fred's lifelong dream to spread joy to our fellow witches and wizards with our very own joke shop. Ever since Fabian and Gideon gifted us our first box of pranking supplies all those years ago, we have wanted to make our own. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, we will call it, if we ever get a chance to make our own line of products.
I don't think anything could make me lose my sense of humour... it's what makes me me. The only things that could change that are too horrible to dream up. I couldn't imagine a world where Fred and I didn't try everything in our power to make people laugh. A life spent without humour would be truly tragic existence, and I would rather die now than live without it.
A/N: Hi! If any of you know my stories, you will know this is my first George Weasley fic, so it's exciting! It's also the only fic I have written in first person and from a male POV, so it will be interesting for me to write this way. I hope you enjoy it, and please feel free to leave any comments. I will be happy to reply to them :)
YOU ARE READING
Mr. Loverman - George Fabian Weasley
Fanfiction'I'm Mr Loverman... and I miss my lover, man.' - Rick Montgomery In which George Fabian Weasley, a wizard with a talent for trouble and tricks, meets Juliette Noelle Delacour, who's lifelong ambition is to become a British auror.
