harry potter imagines

029.|| lost and found [g.w.] || requested

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Summary: George found you after a long time of being lost.

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requested.

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[Battle of Hogwarts, Aftermath]

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Lost and Found

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He's searching for someone, again.

Someone important, someone that means the world to him. Someone that never shown butterflies to his stomach, but made him feel it. Someone who made his day whole even if he felt sick of everything, someone special. You.

The Battle just ended recently, leaving the battlefield with the blood of innocent people, haunted by the shrill screams of its participants, leaving a trail of misery that embossed their minds. It's bittersweet, really. The Chosen One conquered the Dark Lord, the good conquered the bad, yet no side completely won. There's still corpses, gashes on the survivors' skin, Hogwarts is still broken, he's still broken. His mind is swirling, along with his stomach that keeps churning everytime his eyes get a small glimpse of the Great Hall. The night is a blur- last time he's just entering Hogwarts again, but now- now everything changed.

George never stopped looking for you. He might stopped moving, but he never stopped searching. He took away all of the debris and hoped he'll see you again, but he never did. And at the end of the day, he has to accept it. He needs to accept the fact that you were gone, and not even Reparo can mend his broken heart.

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It's been three weeks.

Three weeks of misery, mourning, and loss. It's been three weeks and he's afraid that it will last forever. Twenty one days of searching until they gave it up.

You heard from the others, time can't mend your heart but it takes the pain away. Of course he can move on, start again, marry another woman, and have kids and work at his shop. Of course he can get over you, but he would never get over the fact that he had let you go, he'd let you run away, and he never thought that maybe, maybe danger is with you. That maybe the danger that is chasing you got a hold of you.

And it did.

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George adjusted his robes, taking a moment to himself as the news still tried to sink in. He sighed a somber breath, shaking his head. He doesn't want to get out of his room and go to the funeral. They never found the body, but they found the scarf that they assumed to be yours, judging from the [house colour] and the stitches of your initials, knowing that you loved marking your possessions with something that will remind them that this is mine.

George wanted to keep it, but he can't, as he realised that this might never help getting over you. He needs to forget you, his mum reminded him with a sympathetic tone.