One and only ; George Weasley

25

The drawing was great and seeing it come to life was greater. We all watched as the drawing of George smiled cheekily before going shy, hiding his face. It was adorable. I had promised to draw Fred one day and then we went to bed.

A few weeks later, classes started again. It was January of 1995 and next month we'd have the second challenge of the tournament.

I had been sleeping terribly this past night and I was currently sitting in Arithmancy class before lunchtime, trying not to fall asleep with Kathleen by my side.

I had had a nightmare and that's why I couldn't sleep. I dreamt about George dying the same way my dad did. Killed by Voldemort. It scared me a lot. My mum lost the love of her life to the dark lord and I guess I was scared to lose mine.

I hated this feeling. Feelings absolutely helpless with the nightmares and the emotions that came with them.

I wasn't really listening to Professor Vector. Both because I was tired but also because I just felt sad and uncomfortable thinking about the nightmare. It all seemed so real.

It was about twenty years into the future. George and I lived in a cottage in the woods where it was nice and quiet, just how we liked it. I was asleep in my dream but woke up to the sound of voices. I walked through the house and it seemed as the hallway got longer and longer. Then at the end of it, a green light emerged and George was thrown against the wall, his lifeless body dropping to the floor and then Voldemort stepped forward and I saw him. He turned to me and smiled evilly before used the killing curse on me as well. I woke up just as the green light had hit me and I was sweating and shaking.

It was horrible and I couldn't let it go. Kathleen knew something was up. She kept glancing at me and whispering to me when Professor Vector wasn't looking.

When the clock sounded from the clock tower, I was probably the first one to gather my books and leave the room, not bothering to wait for Kathleen. I knew she had questions and she was gonna demand some answers but I was just so tired that I couldn't bother answering any. I was thinking about skipping lunch so I could take a nap in the dormitory. I only had an hour before potions class and that one lasted for two.

As I opened the door to my dormitory, George was on the bed, reading in one of my books. He was sitting against the headboard, his legs crossed by the ankles and he looked really comfortable.

"What are you doing here? You should be at lunch."

George looked up from the book, watching me. "It's already lunch time?"

"It's noon." I told him.

"Oh." He muttered. "Well. Put your book down then. We can't miss lunch."

"I'm not going." I told him and he raised an eyebrow in response.

"Why not?"

"I didn't sleep last night. Only for about an hour or so. I need to catch up on some of it before potions class."

George stood up and closed the book, placing it on my trunk behind my bed before he watched me walk over to sit down.

"You didn't sleep? Did you have a nightmare?"

"Yeah." I breathed, lying down on my back. "It was intense. I was too scared to go back to sleep after that."

I closed my eyes and soon after I felt him sit on the edge of the bed while I felt his hand on my waist, gently squeezing me.

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No." I said but immediately regretted it when I remembered my mum's letter before Christmas.

You have a habit of shutting the people you love out and you push them away when they want to help. Accept a helping hand where it's offered, even if it's hard because I know it is but I also know it's important to face your feelings and not ignore them.

I opened my eyes and looked at George as he stared into the room, licking his lips while he rested his elbows on his thighs.

"I mean—"

He turned his head to look at me and I sat up, resting my chin on his shoulder. "I do want to talk about it."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." I confirmed. "The nightmare was about you."

He didn't say anything. He kept his eyes on me, making sure I knew that he was listening.

"It was you dying the same way my dad died." I said. "Killed by you-know-who in our own home."

"Our own home?"

"Yes." I told him. "In the dream we were about twenty years older and lived in the woods. One night I woke up when I heard voices and I saw you getting killed in the hallway. I woke up right as he used the killing curse on me as well."

George turned his body towards me, resting his leg on the bed with the food reaching out over the edge. He grabbed one of my hands, looking at the ring on my index finger.

"He's dead, you know that... right?"

"I know." I sighed. "It's just scary, you know?"

"Yeah." He breathed. "I can understand that. Thank you for telling me though, I know that must've been hard."

"I'm not exactly used to opening up about stuff." I said. "I just remembered the letter my mum sent me before Christmas."

"What did she say?"

"A lot of things, really." I said. "But one thing I remember clearly was the part where she said I had a habit of pushing people away and shutting them out instead of opening up and accepting the help and comfort."

"She's right about that." George chuckled, pulling me in for a hug. "But you know you can always talk to me."