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George was sitting in the dark. His back pressed uncomfortably against the cold wall and he had chosen the floor instead of any of the dozen mismatch seats of the dining room. It was late, everyone had already gone to bed, but he was sitting there frozen, his face wearing the same blank expression he had had since the morning. Today had been his funeral and George hadn’t shed a tear. He didn’t move his head when he heard steps approaching, it didn’t matter who it was, it wouldn’t be him.
Heat spread through his arm when Percy sat by his side but it did not warm him. “I know you must be sick of hearing it,” he started, his voice barely a whisper. “But I am sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” At that George did look at him. He hadn’t heard Percy swear since… well, never. Percy was not looking at him though. His eyes (puffy, red, miserable) were fixed on the carpet. “I swear that if I could trade his life for mine…”
“Don’t,” George interrupted, aware his voice sounded hollow and rough. “Please don’t. We just got you back. Don’t make me think about losing you too.” Percy looked conflicted but nodded. Silence fell again, not uncomfortable but not comforting either. Then again, George doubted he would find anything comforting again.
They sat there in the dark for what felt like ages and like no time at all, neither knowing what to say to relieve the other of the pain that was crushing them. The loudest sound was the hooting of their family owls so they both jumped when some thumbs started sounding in the kitchen.
“Bill,” explained Percy and George went back to stare blankly into nothing.
They kept hearing the sounds for a while, Percy grimacing with every particular loud one. Once it stopped, George sighed. It wouldn’t take long for their brother to come and see them and he was not ready to talk.
Predictably Bill walked into the dining room five minutes later and froze, clearly distinguishing them in the dark. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“And I thought you had stopped punching walls when you were fifteen,” retorted Percy. And yeah, if George had been paying attention he would have noticed the bloodied knuckles of their eldest.
Bill shrugged a fair enough and dropped on the couch in front of them. His gaze turned towards the window, looking out, probably in the direction of his new house. “Can I stay here? Fleur is sleeping in my old room and I don’t want to wake her but I don’t think I could sleep even if I tried.” Both brothers just shrugged their shoulders, allowing themselves to be lost on their thoughts again.
They were pulled from them by cautious steps resounding on the hallways. Unlike Bill, Ron didn’t seem to see them. He passed them by looking like a zombie, wandering around without a clear destination. His eyes didn’t focus until he almost tripped with George leg. Then he looked around, like he was waking up and turned towards George. “Harry and Hermione cried themselves to sleep but I can’t,” he confided sounding like the boy he hadn’t been since he was eleven. “I can’t sleep and I can’t cry. I keep thinking tomorrow he’ll surprise us at breakfast telling us it’s just a prank.” And it was heartbreaking seeing the desperate hope in Ron face even as he shook his head trying to rid himself of it. “But it isn’t, is it? He won’t be back.”
He was looking at George for confirmation but he couldn’t speak, couldn’t crush the naivety still on his younger brother’s face, so he just patted the floor by his side and put the arm that was not pressed against Percy on his shoulders when he sat.
Something changed in the air with Ron’s arrival. The doom that had surrounded George since that awful, awful day was still there but now there was an awareness, a certainty that their other siblings would arrive and something would happen, and a comradeship that let him to know that the others knew too.
Ginny did not make herself wait. She walked straight towards Percy determined and looking almost angry. “You weren’t in your room,” she accused him. “I… Back in my first year I used to come to you when I had nightmares at Hogwarts and you let me sleep in your bed,” she reminded her older brother who nodded. “I went to your room but you weren’t there, I thought you had left again.” Her voice almost broke at the end but she was stubbornly turning her desperation into rage.
“I’m sorry,” Percy told her tugging her arm to make her sit between his legs. She let herself drop and when Percy used his free arm to hung her, her lip trembled. “I’m not leaving you again,” he promised against her hair and Ginny nodded, her hand finding his and holding it tightly enough to hurt.
None of them noticed Charlie walking by. He worked with dragons, after all, and that sometimes required him to fetch his eggs without waking the beasts up which had lead him to develop a light, silent walk. That gave him the opportunity to pass through the kitchen and when he finally joined them, he did so with a steaming mug of hot cocoa for each. Neither Percy nor George made any move to even grab their mugs. Ginny opted for holding hers between her hands, warming them, without drinking it. Charlie sat by Bill side and let out a sigh when he saw the state his knuckles were in. He took out his wand, quietly casting some spells that didn’t seem to do much.
“Try episkey ,” advised Ron. “The ones you are using are better for burns.”
Charlie followed his instructions mending his oldest brother hand perfectly and all of them refused to acknowledge why Ron, who was barely an adult, knew which healing spells were more appropriate for which wound.
Unlike the others, Charlie seemed afraid of letting the silence surround them. “The service was beautiful.”
George was torn between humming in agreement and scoffing.
“Fred would have hate it,” Ginny pointed out harshly.
“He would have liked the food,” was Ron’s opinion.
“Yeah but everyone was serious and sad,” Percy shook his head. “Hell, even Aunt Muriel was nice to us. I’m pretty sure that was the stuff of his nightmares.”
“It was a funeral, most people don’t have fun in those,” Bill said with a grimace.
“But that shouldn’t have been Fred’s tribute,” Ginny raged. “The last thing made in his name shouldn’t have been something were people were miserable and polite.”
“Neville once dressed a boggart that looked like Snape in his Grandmother’s clothes,” Ron said seemingly out of nowhere. Charlie let a surprised laugh at this but Ginny turned to look at Ron frown creased. “He’d like if we shared funny anecdotes in his honor, wouldn’t he?” The question was aimed at George who nodded, a knot of gratitude on his throat.
“That’s nothing,” pointed out Bill. “Any of you ever heard of the tutú spell?” Charlie and Percy nodded but the younger ones shook their heads. “It’s a spell that basically enchantes a tutú on the receiver and forces them to walk on their toes.” He let out a laugh at whatever he was remembering. “Someone in my curse used it on Snape on every single potion class I had in fourth. It was hilarious and the best part was they got away with it.” That managed to extract a sad smile from Ron and Ginny’s face relaxed a bit.
“Someone in my course used to turn McGonagall’s stuff into cat toys. Once she even managed to turn her desk into a sandbox. And I’ve never seen her as angry as the day the pergamin she was holding transformed into a fake mouse.” Charlie laughed at the memory.
“Her?” asked Ron curiously.
“Oh yeah, it was Tonks, everyone knew but people were too afraid of her taking their appearance to embarrass them in public to rat her out,” Bill explained. “She’d do it too. You should ask her about that ti-” he cut himself abruptly. “Sorry,” he said, addressing mostly Charlie.
“It’s okay,” Charlie shook his head. “Well, it’s not but nothing is anymore, is it?”
“I used to take my revenge with the Bat-Bogey Hex ,” said Ginny abruptly trying to cut through the tension created by the two eldest. “Having bags fly off their noses usually puts people back in their place.”
Percy chuckled proudly and pressed a kiss on her hair. His expression grew confused when Ginny raised and eyebrow at him. “What?”
“It’s your turn,” she told him looking irritated. “We’ve all shared stories.” No one pointed out that George hadn’t, probably couldn’t get himself too since all of his stories were tightly tied to Fred one way or another.
“That’s if the perfect prefect even got funny stories,” Ron raised his eyebrows daringly at him.
“You know I do,” Percy replied. “You were there while I turned the Minister of Magic into a sea urchin.”
That actually startled a laugh out of Bill. “You what?”
“Had to drive my resignation home some way, hadn’t I?” There was a glint in his eyes that reminded George dearly of Fred so he was equal parts grateful and sorrowful when it disappeared, leaving his eyes hollow and dark. “Sorry,” the apology surprised all his sibling but one and they looked at Ron realizing how quiet he’d become, how pale.
“This was during the battle, wasn’t it?” asked Charlie softly.
“Moments before.” He didn’t have to add before what it had been.
Their expressions went back to somber and the silence fell again like a thick, heavy fog.
“Thanks,” George voice was raspy and surprised even himself. “He was smiling,” his corpse had been at least. “Thank you.”
Percy nodded, pursing his lips, and they all pretended not to see the tears he tried to hide on his sisters hair.
“We should organize a Quidditch game,” said Ginny out of the blue. “In his honor,” she added in response to his siblings questioning eyes. “Much better way to say goodbye than a funeral, right?”
“We’d need fourteen people,” mused Charlie.
“You and Harry can be the seekers,” pointed out Ron. “And I’m not too bad of a keeper.”
“I can ask Oliver to be the other one,” offered Percy. “And I could referee, I’m not much of a player but I know the rules.”
“I could beat with you,” offered Bill to George.
His brother shook his head. “I’m playing as a chaser,” he stated almost aggressively. Bill looked taken back by that and George face softened a litte. “We can ask Angelina, Alicia and Katie to play as chasers too. And I’m sure Lee will want to act as a commentator.”
“Alright,” Bill nodded. “I can be a beater with Fleur then, but I’m warning you all now, she doesn’t pull her punches.”
“Then the other team should have mom beating for them, just to level things a bit,” Ginny pointed out. “And dad can play chaser with me.”
“That leaves us a beater short,” mused Ron. “I can ask Hermione but I don’t think she’ll be much good at it.”
“Kingsley,” interrupted George. “We got pretty close to him during this last few months doing the radio and all, I think he’d like to participate as well.”
His siblings exchanged some relieved looks. It may have been knowing he wasn’t alone on his grief or having something to organize in honor of Fred that their brother would actually have appreciated or something completely different but George looked more alive than he had since the battle and it was good seeing him act as a person, alvei a devastated one, instead of an automata.
“Oliver may be able to get us the Puddlemere stadium,” offered Percy cautiously. “If we want to make this big.”
George looked at him considering before shaking his head. “We should do it here, in the hill, like we’ve always done.”
“As long as you actually let me play this time,” buffed Ginny. “but how are we going to keep the Bludgers from going into town?”
“I can put some spells up,” Ron offered, shrugging his shoulders. “Harry, Hermione and I have been using a lot of protective spells this last year. I’m sure some of them can be used to keep things in as well as out and Hermione won’t mind helping me.”
They all nodded and silence fell once again over them but this time it wasn’t as heavy, as crushing. No, now it was charged with the promise of a new day. Nothing had changed, not really. And yet, the feeling of uselessness that had followed them around ever since that dreaded day had, if not disappeared, at least decreased. Fred was dead, there was no changing that. But this, this was something they could still do for him. They could ensure he had a proper goodbye, something he’d have liked. And they could look after one another. After all, they had lost a brother already, they weren’t going to lose one more.