george fic
Bit of a challenge to myself, picked a song (Matt Pond PA's "Sunlight") and two fandoms I've written before (Doctor Who and Harry Potter) and worked from there. The Doc Who one will probably go up tomorrow when I finish fixing it. This one is rough, but ah well, I suppose it's also short. Here you go.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Title: December
Rating: PG-13 (a curse-word or two)
Genre: Drabble, Angst
Character: George Weasley
Setting: The December following DH
Summary: George grows frustrated without someone to point out his mistakes for him.
I love a good review.
"Think I push too hard
I think that's what you said
So why would I want to stay
See all my mistakes
Watch the whole thing coming down
I wish you would say
When I fuck up that it's okay
That it's just a scrape
All this blood's gonna wash away."
-Matt Pond PA "Sunlight"
"Fucking... piece of shite... cheap metal can't you--OW, bugger bugger bugger," George Weasley threw down his wand in frustration and sucked his finger where he had just burnt it on the red-hot metal. His mouth being rather warm, this was not helping much but he also didn't care much. It was 2 AM and Diagon Alley was still and silent in the blanket of night. It was Christmastime, strings of multicolor fairy lights wound around and across the street, zigzagging back and forth and creating a canopy of light which threw colorful shadows on the thick, white snow. Things seemed frozen outside, not just from the cold, but also in time. The snow had stopped and the cold air seemed to slow any motion that could occur. People were shut tight in their homes, under layers of blankets, windows closed tight to the freezing air and curtains drawn to keep out the stray draft. It was a lonely night. And that was precisely how George Weasley felt. Shut up in his own house, the apartment above the shop, he tinkered with new inventions for the new year. He'd been working on this particular tentative product of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for at least three days and had begun to develop a nagging feeling in the back of his head, one telling him that if his brother was here, it'd have been working two days prior.
But he didn't want to think of his brother. Because it just hurt all too much. He'd heard others say that, indicate similar sentiments, but none of them could understand. That night he'd lost a part of himself, truly. Sure, they were separate entities, had slight differences (their freckles weren't entirely identical, after all). They had had different personalities, even if not everyone noticed. And Fred had always been the leader, the decision maker, the brasher of the two. So George was at a loss without someone to follow.
He carried out the motions, lived some semblance of a life, but there was a harsh truth in it all. Even the things he did, the new products he put out for Christmas, weren't as clever as the usual Weasley standards.
So he kept a notebook of all the mistakes, all the things that didn't work, hoping to fill the gap that Fred had left. Because Fred would have known the answer, wouldn't have made the same mistakes. Of this, George was certain. It would be his downfall.
Because, in truth, Fred would have told him that when you fuck up that it's okay.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Title: December
Rating: PG-13 (a curse-word or two)
Genre: Drabble, Angst
Character: George Weasley
Setting: The December following DH
Summary: George grows frustrated without someone to point out his mistakes for him.
I love a good review.
"Think I push too hard
I think that's what you said
So why would I want to stay
See all my mistakes
Watch the whole thing coming down
I wish you would say
When I fuck up that it's okay
That it's just a scrape
All this blood's gonna wash away."
-Matt Pond PA "Sunlight"
"Fucking... piece of shite... cheap metal can't you--OW, bugger bugger bugger," George Weasley threw down his wand in frustration and sucked his finger where he had just burnt it on the red-hot metal. His mouth being rather warm, this was not helping much but he also didn't care much. It was 2 AM and Diagon Alley was still and silent in the blanket of night. It was Christmastime, strings of multicolor fairy lights wound around and across the street, zigzagging back and forth and creating a canopy of light which threw colorful shadows on the thick, white snow. Things seemed frozen outside, not just from the cold, but also in time. The snow had stopped and the cold air seemed to slow any motion that could occur. People were shut tight in their homes, under layers of blankets, windows closed tight to the freezing air and curtains drawn to keep out the stray draft. It was a lonely night. And that was precisely how George Weasley felt. Shut up in his own house, the apartment above the shop, he tinkered with new inventions for the new year. He'd been working on this particular tentative product of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for at least three days and had begun to develop a nagging feeling in the back of his head, one telling him that if his brother was here, it'd have been working two days prior.
But he didn't want to think of his brother. Because it just hurt all too much. He'd heard others say that, indicate similar sentiments, but none of them could understand. That night he'd lost a part of himself, truly. Sure, they were separate entities, had slight differences (their freckles weren't entirely identical, after all). They had had different personalities, even if not everyone noticed. And Fred had always been the leader, the decision maker, the brasher of the two. So George was at a loss without someone to follow.
He carried out the motions, lived some semblance of a life, but there was a harsh truth in it all. Even the things he did, the new products he put out for Christmas, weren't as clever as the usual Weasley standards.
So he kept a notebook of all the mistakes, all the things that didn't work, hoping to fill the gap that Fred had left. Because Fred would have known the answer, wouldn't have made the same mistakes. Of this, George was certain. It would be his downfall.
Because, in truth, Fred would have told him that when you fuck up that it's okay.