RP: Hey, you.
Date: 25 December, 1999
Characters: George Weasley
Location: Fred's place
Status: Private
Summary: George wishes his brother a Happy Christmas
Completion: Complete
"It wasn't this cold last year." George sighed and shifted, leaning against the marble of his brother's headstone, a flask of something warming cupped in his hand. "Bill set the sunflower to squirt people, remember? And Mum had the gnome singing..." He took a sip from the flask and grimaced, then sighed. "I like the quiet, better."
He pulled one foot toward him, leaning a bit more comfortably. "The gnome looks great on the tree," he offered, then smiled. "I told Greystone that I think that'll be my Christmas tradition, for you. I did it with your wand. Guess I'll have to do it with my own, next year. I'm putting yours in the museum, but you probably already know that. I'm having it sealed in unbreakable crystal. It's going to hang with our portrait. I say our, because you're there, even though it was really my reflection. Guess we were always reflections of each other, yeah? I suppose there are worse things we could be. I like to think we reflected the best parts of each other."
He took another drink. "And I did something the other day, that we'd always talked about doing. Well, back then it was because we wanted to be a chain. Now it's because... Damn. Because I can't let it go. The shop. It's in my blood, I guess. Our blood. I put a deposit down on Zonko's place. I'll be signing in a few days. Verity's coming back, and Angelina and Ginny are going to help whip it into shape." He smiled wistfully.
"She really loved you, you know. Angelina... I think you do. I'm pretty sure that you loved her too, even if you never said it to me. I wonder if you told her?" His gaze dropped to the snow. "But she knew anyway, I think..."
George ran a hand through his hair, feeling the chilly breeze on his skin, and breathed in the cold. "I don't think I'm ever going to not miss you," he said after a while. "Every time I see myself in a mirror, I think about you. Every time my hands reach for something, I see yours. I wear your clothes. Merlin help me when they wear out..." He looked up, squinting into the sun, then dropped his gaze to the trees. "But I'm healing. I'm still taking potions to keep from going crazy, but I can think about you without crying. I can talk about you without aching. I can laugh about things we did, without wanting to die..."
He looked at the flask in his hand, then drank the last trickle of whiskey. "I don't want to die anymore. I'll be with you soon enough, I think. Just don't spring the punchline without me, okay?" He squinted up into the bright sky again. "I love you. Miss you. But I'm going to be okay..."
George sat for a while longer, huddled into his jacket against the marble stone. By the time he got up, it had started to snow, and he headed toward the house with snowflakes clinging to his hair.
Characters: George Weasley
Location: Fred's place
Status: Private
Summary: George wishes his brother a Happy Christmas
Completion: Complete
"It wasn't this cold last year." George sighed and shifted, leaning against the marble of his brother's headstone, a flask of something warming cupped in his hand. "Bill set the sunflower to squirt people, remember? And Mum had the gnome singing..." He took a sip from the flask and grimaced, then sighed. "I like the quiet, better."
He pulled one foot toward him, leaning a bit more comfortably. "The gnome looks great on the tree," he offered, then smiled. "I told Greystone that I think that'll be my Christmas tradition, for you. I did it with your wand. Guess I'll have to do it with my own, next year. I'm putting yours in the museum, but you probably already know that. I'm having it sealed in unbreakable crystal. It's going to hang with our portrait. I say our, because you're there, even though it was really my reflection. Guess we were always reflections of each other, yeah? I suppose there are worse things we could be. I like to think we reflected the best parts of each other."
He took another drink. "And I did something the other day, that we'd always talked about doing. Well, back then it was because we wanted to be a chain. Now it's because... Damn. Because I can't let it go. The shop. It's in my blood, I guess. Our blood. I put a deposit down on Zonko's place. I'll be signing in a few days. Verity's coming back, and Angelina and Ginny are going to help whip it into shape." He smiled wistfully.
"She really loved you, you know. Angelina... I think you do. I'm pretty sure that you loved her too, even if you never said it to me. I wonder if you told her?" His gaze dropped to the snow. "But she knew anyway, I think..."
George ran a hand through his hair, feeling the chilly breeze on his skin, and breathed in the cold. "I don't think I'm ever going to not miss you," he said after a while. "Every time I see myself in a mirror, I think about you. Every time my hands reach for something, I see yours. I wear your clothes. Merlin help me when they wear out..." He looked up, squinting into the sun, then dropped his gaze to the trees. "But I'm healing. I'm still taking potions to keep from going crazy, but I can think about you without crying. I can talk about you without aching. I can laugh about things we did, without wanting to die..."
He looked at the flask in his hand, then drank the last trickle of whiskey. "I don't want to die anymore. I'll be with you soon enough, I think. Just don't spring the punchline without me, okay?" He squinted up into the bright sky again. "I love you. Miss you. But I'm going to be okay..."
George sat for a while longer, huddled into his jacket against the marble stone. By the time he got up, it had started to snow, and he headed toward the house with snowflakes clinging to his hair.