Left Behind (A Fred & George fanfic)

8. Breakdown

The room was dark. Like a ghost of the past was lingering there, desperately trying to bring light to the people in it, but making the candles dim their flames instead. Ironic, Angelina thought, though she didn’t laugh – didn’t even smile. What was happening was a mystery to her. A ghost of the past, could it really be?

No, it couldn’t.

She closed the door of the attic and walked towards her husband’s desk. The wood underneath her feet creaked, making her doubt the decision she made. Maybe leaving it all unsaid was for the better.

George turned around and faced her, his desk was full of papers, some written on, some blank and some with drafts on them. In a corner of the room stood a locked wooden cage, a growling noise came out of it.

“You really don’t want to know what’s in there.” George said. “But I promise it’ll be out of here as soon as possible!”

Angelina forced a smile. “You… You thought of something new?”

“You told me I’d manage, and I did! I just have to experiment a bit and it’ll still take a lot of work, but the idea came to me!” George had never looked happier, which made Angelina feel even worse about herself.

“How was the visit?” George asked while scribbling some notes underneath a draft of something that looked a bit like a cannon. “How are Gin and Harry doing?”

“Uhm… Yeah, they’re doing just fine.” Angelina lifted a pile of drawings of Pygmy Puffs – available in five colors and seven different designs – from a spare chair and sat down next to George. “I have to tell you something.”

“What did Fred do this time? Make a house elf float? I’m also still waiting for another toilet seat to come in with the mail by the way.” George joked, he grabbed all the papers on his desk and neatly sorted them out. Angelina saw more drawings of the weirdest things passing by, though she couldn’t tell what they represented.

“Actually it’s about what Fred has done last time. What he has seen last time, to be exact.” Angelina looked down at her hands, still not knowing whether this was going to sound like good or bad news to George.

George laughed at her, one hand on her shoulder. “About the kitchens? C’mon Angelina, it can’t be that bad!”

Angelina took a breath and quickly said the words that had been bothering her since Harry had told her. “James saw Fred that night, in the kitchens, on the Marauder’s Map.” She saw George’s confused look and continued. “George, he saw Fred Weasley, twice!”

George froze, thinking. “You mean… You can’t be serious.”

Angelina nodded.

In all those years, George had carefully built up a wall, completely surrounding himself. Every day, every hour, another brick of fake laughs, denial and – later on – real loving moments was added and attached to the rest of the wall with great caution. In all those years, he’d closed himself off from the world, from the pain, forcing himself to remember only the happy moments and concentrate on his life – right here, right now.

But then, with the realizations of these simple words, the whole wall came tumbling down, leaving nothing but a total mess of bits and pieces. George dropped the pile of papers he was holding and one of them slipped into the candle, catching fire immediately. The flames made the room look lighter, but George was lost in the dark.

His hand slid from Angelina’s shoulder.

He couldn’t comprehend it, couldn’t fit the pieces together. This isn’t possible. He didn’t hope, he didn’t even dare to hope. Someone was messing with him. He hadn’t even thought of the possibilities yet, if this story was true indeed. The only thing he could do was remember that awful night, when he saw his brother in the Great Hall, motionless and his eyes staring without seeing.

“George?” Angelina hesitated, not knowing what to say. “Are – are you okay?”

He didn’t answer, one single tear rolled down his cheek.

“I understand, George, it must be so difficult for you. After all this time, the idea of him being there again, it must be so difficult. But I understand, George, I understand!” Angelina stammered.

“You don’t understand!” George burst out suddenly. He turned his back to her, not wanting to see her face. “How could you ever, really.”

“Then explain it to me, George, please!” Angelina was close to crying, shocked by George’s outburst.

George buried his face in his hands, trying to find a way to explain himself. However, he knew no words could describe what he was feeling. “It’s like I’m screaming, and no one can hear. It feels as if I’m drowning and everybody is watching me, but no one will help me. I’m ashamed, of how incapable I am of living without him by my side. I’m scared the pain will go away some day, the memory will fade. And it’s killing me, every single day. The mere thought of him, of having lost him forever… It tears me up inside.”

Angelina couldn’t stand the sight of her husband breaking down like this. She stood up and walked around the desk, kneeling before George, her hands on his knees. “Please don’t cry.” She sniffed.

He lifted his head, his tears blurred his vision, making the room look vague. However, he still didn’t look at Angelina. “I just tried to feel OK, to feel whole again. And sometimes, just for a second, I managed… But then something – anything – reminds me of him again and…” He sighed, throwing his hands up in dismay.

A painful silence filled the room for a moment.

“It’s just – ” George continued, “I tell everyone I’m fine. I tell myself I’m fine. I’ve told that lie so many times already that even I believed it myself. But the truth is – I’m not fine. I’m not fine at all.”

Angelina asked the one question she didn’t really want an answer on. “What’s going to happen now?”

George knew he couldn’t let this rest, he’d never forgive himself if he did.

Of course Angelina recognized the way he looked. “George, please don’t do this to yourself…”

But he had already made a decision and pushed Angelina away. “I’m going back to Hogwarts.”