Hey All! I know I know, I should really get to updating BitR, I've finally started (another) chapter 5 and it's going good, finally! Hope you all enjoy this story, it hit me about an hour ago and I haven't been able to let it go.


WARNINGS - CHARACTER DEATH, ANGST, SLASH, HINTED SEXUAL THEMES.


Chapter 1 and Only

(Maybe)


His heart ached fiercely, for the first time in his life he was loved, loved with abandon and it was glorious, magnificent. Spectacular. Then the final battle came and it went away, Fred died and George was but a shell. Harry had no place with the last living twin anymore, they were three, together, and two without him, but to take a twin from either equation?

There was no place for him without both red heads, their look alike came first in everything, even their relationship with Harry and he respected that. Even though they weren't together sexually when they were with or without him, the bond they held as brothers, best friends and a shared soul came before all others. To be honest Harry was slightly jealous of their devotion to each other, he knew they loved him but he wanted to be the light of someone's life, their sole reason for living. Like Fred was for George, and George for Fred. With Fred gone now, Harry didn't expect George to stay much longer after his mourning phase.

But now, instead of feeling like an outsider looking in on something beautiful, he felt dead and empty inside. As dead and empty as Fred's body, as dead and empty as George's heart, mind and soul. He'd tried to comfort George, tried to be strong and help him, hold him as he mourned the loss of half his life. Tried to be a steady rock in the weathering storm that was the last twin's mind.

Yet in his ears, ringing, he could still hear the quiet whisper that fell from George's lips that he wasn't meant to hear. "Why Fred?... Why not Harry?"

He tried to get passed it, tried to pretend he didn't hear, tried to pretend he misunderstood the others meaning. A week went by and although he masked the pain he felt, the Weasley's noticed his head hanging lower, his complete lack of speech and how pale and thin he was getting day by day.

They hadn't yet gotten the memo it seemed.

Harry had given up on life.

Life was bitch and so was fate, the love he'd shared with the notorious twin pranksters had been something beautiful. It had started during their war on Umbridge, small looks that lingered, the bite of jealousy when the twins saw Ginny practically fall over herself to gain Harry's attention. When Harry saw Fred or George paying too much attention to Angelina or another.

When they'd finally gotten together it was a bit of an accident, consequences of too much fire whiskey and in the morning Harry woke up with sore backside and the twins refusing to let him up from their embrace. After that through awkward conversations and embarrassing moments they confessed and all was right in their world.

They saw the world with new eyes, eyes of new love, young love and forever love.

But now, now it was broken, shattered and destroyed, no reparo could fix it, or glue put it back together. There was no Gred and Forge nor Harry and Twins, there was George and there was Harry and death was on the horizon.

One day, when Harry had gone to check up on George bringing him some broth that he knew would only be eaten half-halfheartedly, he was surprised to find his old lover sitting up in bed and reading a book. At first he'd thought George had made a break through, that he was getting better, albeit slowly. That was until he'd read the title of the book, 'Rituals and Sacrifices to Bring Back the Dead'. Dismay spread like a disease across Harry's heart and infected his mind.

That night George drifted off into a fretful slumber, nightmares plaguing him as usual with nothing Harry could do about it, heavens knew he tried, but the cold shoulder he'd received broke his heart even further. Harry slipped into the room and took the book, to protect George from making a mistake that could cost him his soul, or break him even further with an inferi Fred.

Then he'd glanced in it one day, a few weeks after he'd seen George read it and found a solution to all their problems. There was a ritual that called for the Master of Death to sacrifice something to Death in return for the resurrection of a lost soul, as if they'd never died in the first place. No one but Harry knew that he was the Master of Death, even though he had thrown away the stone he found that after the final battle it refused to leave his right ring finger. How it got there he hadn't a clue.

It took three months for the preparations, during which George became more of a shell if it was possible, mechanically eating his food but all other functions he ceased bar sleep. A constant bladder relieving spell was in place as otherwise George would lay in his own muck without care, a cleansing charm applied twice a day. It broke Harry's heart that his love wasn't recovering, wasn't allowing them to mourn together but soon, soon all would be right. In their world at least, not his.

As the clock struck 3:15am on the first of October Harry could not be found in the Burrow, instead he stood in the middle of a clearing in the Forbidden Forest, the clearing where they first made love when sober and confessed their feelings truthfully. Where now Harry Potter summoned Death so he could barter for Fred's return to life.

When Death appeared it was anticlimactic. No flashes of lightning, no all encompassing shadows, just one second there was no one but him, the next, a tall admittedly handsome man standing a head taller than Harry with foggy amber eyes that were missing pupils. His voice was smooth and dark as he spoke "what does my master wish of me?"

"J-just Harry" the smaller man stuttered, intimidated by the other worldly man, before squaring his shoulders and saying as strongly as possible with quivering vocal chords "I wish to barter for the life of one Frederick Gideon Weasley".

A smokey chuckle escaped pale lips as Death circled his master, the first that all his hallows had accepted and probably the last. "Ahh, and what will you trade for his life?" Death stepped up behind Harry, broad front to lithe back and bent his neck to take in the young mans unique scent of mint and honey with a hint of musk. The emerald eyed beauty shivered with faint fear.

"Anything".

Death smirked.


The End

Or is it?


Hope you all enjoyed that, I know it was short, but I am thinking of writing a sequel of sorts about what Harry trades for Fred's life and what happens afterwords. So if that sounds like something you'd like to read lemme know ;)

Love

Pixie_Styx

aka Psychotic_Sprite

aka Wistful-Dreamer