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George Weasley had trouble sleeping most nights. After she found him unconscious on the floor of his flat above the joke shop, with empty fire whiskey bottles surrounding him, Molly convinced him to move back into the Burrow. Now that he was back in his childhood bedroom that he and Fred spent the whole time finding creative ways to get out of, he hardly wanted to leave the room.
Ghosts of his twin filled every corner of the room. The unmade bed next to his, the clothes that littered the floor, pranks that overfilled out of stuffed drawers and overflowing trunks, and the mirror. That dreaded mirror that hung on his door. That mirror was where he saw the ghost of Fred that haunted him the most, himself.
The dark circles that inhabited red rimmed, puffy eyes. The scarred clump that was once his ear. The matted red hair that had grown out again, making George look like an older version of himself at sixteen. He looked like he was thirty, instead of the mere twenty-two he was. His skin was so pale and sickly that freckles that once covered his body now hid away from the monster he had let himself become.
If Fred was still alive, he would hide from George too. All his other siblings did too. It started when he told Percy that he couldn’t stand being around someone who didn’t love the family. When he told Percy that Fred would still hate Percy if he was alive. When he told Percy that he wished Percy was the one who died and not Fred.
Next, he got a letter from Charlie. It was simple, just a ‘hey, I wanted to make sure you’re doing well’. But George wasn’t doing well, he was doing bad. Really really bad. This was back when he was drinking a lot and letting his life fall away. Because it didn’t matter. His life didn’t matter if his other half’s could be thrown away right in front of him. So, George wrote Charlie back when he was drunk one night. The words, so vile and sickening that they left a bad taste in his mouth now, were ones he couldn’t remember. All he knew was that Charlie hadn’t talked to him since then.
Ron asked George to come over for a few drinks almost a year after Fred died. He drank to the bottom of his glass, then Ron’s, then three more glasses. “It’s becoming a problem, George.” Ron said, stopping George from pouring a sixth glass. “What would Fred think?” Ron whispered to him, saying the name that both their tongues had been dancing around. George looked up at his little brother with wildly mad eyes.
“What did you say?” George growled, fury boiling up in him just as easy as the alcohol had slid down his throat. He looked like he might kill Ron, making the younger man shrink back into himself. He watched as Ron’s wide eyes filled with fear. Ron muttered apologies like they were a mantra. “You’re very wrong there. He wishes I was with him and drinking myself dead will just get me there quicker.” George realized what he had done wrong and quickly apparated away. He’s fucked it up with yet another sibling.
Bill had asked George to babysit his kids while he and Fleur went on a date a few months ago. It was simple, harmless. There wasn’t any alcohol so there wasn’t any chance of relapsing after he’d been sobered up for at least a month. The kids were good kids so he wasn’t worried about that. The night went by without any major hiccups and for the first time in a long time, he felt like himself again. But, at the end of the night, Fleur messed up. “Thank you again, Fred.” She smiled politely before realizing that she had said the wrong thing. “Oh George, I’m so sorry.”
Through gritted teeth, George nodded. “It’s fin—“ His voice broke, tears blurring his vision. When he got back to the Burrow, he tried to break his mirror, glass shards scarring his hands.
When Ginny came and visited the burrow yesterday, George knew he would find a way to mess it up with her too. She had always been his favorite sibling after Fred, she was his baby sister and the only one who knew how to help George. She was the only one he was okay with talking about Fred with.
Now, she was asleep in Fred’s bed. She couldn’t sleep so she came to George’s room to try and sleep better. It worked apparently, he noted as the red haired girl snored softly next to him. He wished he could fall asleep too. What was that thing that Molly used to tell him to do? Count down from one hundred, slowly, and let yourself drift off? That was it.
He laid his head back down, starting to count down from one hundred.
99
98
97
96
95
94
93
92
91
90
89
88
87
86
85
84…
George’s eyes fluttered open. Fred was standing over him. “Oh thank Merlin! You scared me, George.” He wasn’t in his bed but on the cold, hard ground. “You passed out! C’mon, we need to get you to the rest of the family, the war’s over! We won!” Fred reached out to help him up. What was going on?
“No. This can’t be right, you died, Fred. You were on the bridge when it exploded.” George stood up on his own. “I spoke at your funeral. I have to wake up every morning without you.” He was crying, cheeks wet from the salty tears. “Please— are you really still alive?” His voice broke and a grin that met his eyes broke out when Fred nodded.
“You must have hit your head pretty hard, c’mon! Mum is worried sick! She was going on and on about everything she had told you that she regretted.” Fred looked just as relieved as George felt. He was really alive and breathing. George ran to hug him, to take him in like he wanted to do for years. It had all been a bad dream.
The two caught up with the rest of the family, all of them exchanging hugs and tears. George didn’t let go of Fred for one second. After hours of this, Fred turned to him. “Oh, it’s time for you to go.” He said, looking grim.
“What?” George sputtered, he wanted to stay forever. He didn’t want to lose his twin again. He wanted to stay. Please, Merlin. Let him stay. Let him live this life and not the one he lives right now. Please, he would be good. He would love with every ounce of himself until his cheeks hurt from smiling and his throat was raw from laughter.
“Hey George,” Fred interrupted George’s train of thought. “live life the way I would want you to, okay? Everyone misses you too.” Fred faded into the dark and George was back in his room.
He looked over at his sleeping sister. Live the way Fred would want him to. He would change. Not just for Fred, but for Ginny, Bill, Ron, Charlie, Percy, his parents, and for himself.
So he did, through broken sobs and seeing a therapist, he became the man he wanted, Fred wanted, him to be.