Moving on
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. They all belong to JK Rowling.
Chapter 1. Realization
It was a joke. It has to be a joke! And if it was, it sure was a very stupid, immature joke.
Because Fred couldn’t be dead.
George half expected that Fred, any minute now, would sit up from his lying position and yell “Surprise!” only to startle George. But somehow, he knew that wouldn’t happen.
He was sitting on his knees on the dirty, blood covered floor in the Great Hall, staring at Fred’s lying form.
Fred’s face was covered in blood and burning marks, and yet, there was a little smirk on his pale features. His eyelids were lightly shut, and the rest of him was lying lamely on the cold floor.
He looked like he was sleeping.
And it was a bad time to sleep, when there was a war going on.
George started to feel annoyed. Why wouldn’t he wake up? Why was that stupid git of a twin still lying there with that little smirk playing on his lips?
It wasn’t funny.
Although he deep down knew it was pointless, George waited for something to happen. Perhaps a movement, just something to clarify that he was alive.
The realization hit George like a bludger just had hit his head.
He wasn’t going to wake up. Ever.
It wasn’t a joke after all. He really was dead.
George couldn’t move. He was staring wide eyed at Fred. But it wasn’t Fred.
Fred was dead.
Chapter 1. Realization
It was a joke. It has to be a joke! And if it was, it sure was a very stupid, immature joke.
Because Fred couldn’t be dead.
George half expected that Fred, any minute now, would sit up from his lying position and yell “Surprise!” only to startle George. But somehow, he knew that wouldn’t happen.
He was sitting on his knees on the dirty, blood covered floor in the Great Hall, staring at Fred’s lying form.
Fred’s face was covered in blood and burning marks, and yet, there was a little smirk on his pale features. His eyelids were lightly shut, and the rest of him was lying lamely on the cold floor.
He looked like he was sleeping.
And it was a bad time to sleep, when there was a war going on.
George started to feel annoyed. Why wouldn’t he wake up? Why was that stupid git of a twin still lying there with that little smirk playing on his lips?
It wasn’t funny.
Although he deep down knew it was pointless, George waited for something to happen. Perhaps a movement, just something to clarify that he was alive.
The realization hit George like a bludger just had hit his head.
He wasn’t going to wake up. Ever.
It wasn’t a joke after all. He really was dead.
George couldn’t move. He was staring wide eyed at Fred. But it wasn’t Fred.
Fred was dead.