Work Text:
A Bond of twins
The strongest bonds George ever had with anyone was the bond he shared-with Fred; he believes that nothing could have ever been stronger. Fred wasn’t just George’s other half - he was George. Born into this world together, George always thought they would leave this world together, but here he sat alone, looking outside at the clouds that seemed to frequently mirror his sadness and grief.
This wasn’t the first time he sat alone in a corner of the smelly old pub where he came to drink away his guilt. It had been a week since he had to stand over the dark hole that swallowed his dead brother whole as he was lowered into his final resting place. George thought about throwing himself on top of his brother many times during the funeral, that was where he should be, lying next to his brother not standing there alive. There is nothing that you could have done. IThat is what people keep telling him. It’s what he keeps telling himself, but it doesn’t him calm anymore and neither does drinking beer after beer.
So as George swallows his last pint and throws the cash down onto the table before dragging himself outside. It’s raining but he continues. At some point he stops and looks at his surroundings. He doesn’t know how, but he made his way to the graveyard. He looks down to see that he’s standing on his brothers’ grave, reading the words “Here lies Fred Weasley, twin brother, son and friend to many and a fighter of cancer,” George throws himself down on the ground at the reminder of how he lost his brother.
It should have been him not Fred and George finds himself tearing at the ground in anger. It was supposed to be him in that grave not Fred, this anger drove George to dig deep into the soil in a fit of rage. If only he could swap places with Fred on this one occasion so that it was Fred out here breathing the air that had a laden damp smell to it. George didn’t care that at this point he was just being selfish, but he was angry, so very angry and so he just kept screaming and hitting and digging into Fred’s grave until he hit something and all he could hear was the sound of the wood straining as he slammed his hands on it again.
George took a breath and finally looked around him, finally coming out of his fit of rage. Now he was covered in soil and dirt, sitting on top of his brothers dug up coffin. George looked down and traced the carvings on the side of the coffin and without thought George hoisted the head panel of the coffin up. George stood there for a moment taking in the silk red velvet lining of the the inside and the crisp white pillow that lay on the pillow box with nothing, nothing but an indent left by someone that had laid on the same spot for far too long.
George looked around again as if the perpetrator that must have dragged his brother out of his peaceful grave could still be there. George got up quickly looking around quickly, still disoriented and now in disbelief, where could he be? Where could his brother be? George stopped when he caught the edge of a shadowy figure. He turned around but it wasn’t there anymore. That was it. He was crazy. He was delusional. He didn’t just dig up his brother’s grave, he didn’t just open his casket to find it empty and he didn’t see someone standing by the tree watching him. He- a twig snapped, and he quickly turned around to face the direction the sound had come from. In front of him was a man , surelt the same man that was watching from the trees a minute ago?
George couldn’t see his face as it was obscured by his hat, but as he bent down and leaned closer to George, he immediately recognised the smirk that grew on the face identical to his. A shaky,” How?” left his mouth before Fred slammed into him kissing his mouth. Fred’s lips were colder than George remembered. - but they again he is supposed to be dead, so cold lips must surely be normal. He pushed away from Fred gasping for air. When he looked up, he caught the hint of something that looked earily like a ang sticking out of Fred’s mouth. Before he caught his breath he was sprung on again.
He could feel Fred’s lips slide lower until they were quickly attached to his neck. The pair of lips sucked his neck, leaving behind a light bruise. The flash of pain that shot through his body came as a surprise as he felt the fangs sink into his neck. The pain quickly faded into the pleasure of his brother drinking his blood. George became lightheaded, trying to push Fred away from his neck but failing.
His eyes began to shut, and fear began to spiral within him, but it was met with the bliss of being in his brother’s arms as he died.