This one goes out to YOU chocolate-frog-fan! Thanks for your support and reading Double or Nothing even after it was finished. 3
A penny for my thoughts, oh no, I'll sell them for a dollar
They're worth so much more after I'm a goner
And maybe then you'll hear the words I been singin'
Funny when you're dead how people start listenin'
If I die young, bury me in satin
Lay me down on a, bed of roses
Sink me in the river, at dawn
Send me away with the words of a love song
If I Die Young- The Band Perry
"No! No, Fred! No!"
Something was wrong. Whose voice was that? Percy's…a scream. Ron's voice. He couldn't see…why couldn't he see?
He couldn't get up, what was happening? Was this a spell? Had he been hit?
Fred wanted to yell out, to say "I'm alright! What are you crying about?" but he couldn't.
Someone was shrieking, someone else was sobbing and then a voice that was unmistakably Percy's yelled something, a name.
Oh God…he was dead wasn't he?
And then everything cleared, he was standing now. It was all okay, he was alive, yes, he had to be.
Percy wasn't anywhere in sight, Hermione had buried her face into Harry's shoulder and Ron was bent double over something.
"Ron? Ron, what's happened?"
Ron didn't move and Fred narrowed his eyes, looking up at Harry "Harry?"
He received no reply, though Harry looked right at him, almost through him.
What is happening?
Thoroughly terrified at what he might see, he looked down at the body Ron was sobbing hysterically over. He fought back the urge to vomit and shuddered for he was looking, extremely surreally, at his own corpse.
"Oh God…no…no!" He shouted, still no one looked up, and now he knew why. Was he a ghost? No…he wasn't silver and apparently no one could see him so he couldn't be a ghost.
"I'm not dead! I'm not! I'm here, I'm right, goddamn here!" Fred realised then, he was trying to convince himself, not anyone else.
He looked at his hands, they were bloody. Looking down, he tried to see what had killed him. He found it. A large bloody gash split along the side of his head, his body was drenched in blood and he lifted a hand to his head, withdrawing it drenched in scarlet. Closing his eyes he tried to compose himself, he was trembling now. It was all coming back. Duelling beside Percy. Percy making a joke. Himself making a joke about Percy making a joke…he never finished it.
He didn't even know he was crying, only looked back down at his very lifeless corpse, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
Ron had gotten to his feet now and Fred felt a horrible pang at his utterly distraught brother.
"We should-we should move him…" He muttered quietly and Hermione hurled over to him.
"Ronnie…no! I'm right here!" Fred cried, desperately, using the nickname their mother used most often for his little brother.
Unaware of his presence, Ron carefully lifted Fred's head, and with Harry's assistance moved the body out of danger of further harm.
"Where are you going?" Fred muttered, watching as they left, Hermione's hand wrapped tightly in Ron's.
"Oh God….I'm dead, I'm BLOODY DEAD!" He shouted at the top of his lungs. "Does no one know I'm here?"
Fred didn't have it in his heart to leave his body alone, he couldn't even look at himself, but he didn't dare leave. He found himself ducking curses and then, remembering there was no point, let them fly straight through him at their intended targets.
An eerie calm fell over the castle as Voldemort's words faded. People were limping past, and Fred couldn't help but feel all the more terrified. It was perfectly possible, and in fact it was guaranteed that he was not the only person to lose their life tonight. There was every chance that another of his family was dead.
"He's…over here." Percy's voice hitched in the middle of his words and Fred felt the most peculiar sensation as his brother walked right through him.
It was a horrible sight, to see Percy so devastated, no doubt he felt completely responsible for what had happened.
"Since you were seven…" Fred's voice was thick. "That was the last time you joked…"
Kingsley Shacklebolt was with Percy, placing a hand on the Weasley's shoulder as he crumpled beside his brother's body.
"It should have been me, Kingsley…I could have saved him…it was my fault…"
"It was not, you great buffoon!" Fred, tearing up, shouted at the back of Percy's curly haired head.
Percy was sobbing again, great wracking sobs as he cradled Fred's dead head.
"I'm sorry…I'm sorry."
"Come, Percival…we should take him to the Hall."
Fred had turned away, unable to bear watching his brothers cry over him any longer.
He walked behind Kingsley and Percy as they carried him, without magic into the Great Hall. It was a devastating sight that greeted him…it was destroyed, it was all destroyed…the sides of the Hall were littered with the bodies of the dead and the wounded. A sort of hospital and morgue in one.
Fred looked, almost pleadingly into the faces of anyone he passed, begging, hoping that someone could see him. His chest was throbbing painfully and, though it no longer beat, his heart was constricting in on him.
George. Where was George? Surely his own twin would be able to see him?
Percy was hiccupping in front of him and Fred watched solemnly as the two wizards lowered his body onto a spread out blanket.
A wail of horror. His mother's voice.
"My boy! No!"
"Mum?" Fred's jaw trembled as his mother flew straight through him, collapsing on his corpse.
"Mum? Can you hear me?" He knelt down and tried to touch her shoulder.
"I'm here! Dammit! Please!"
"George…oh God…George!" Percy had turned around, his horn rimmed glasses perched atop his head.
Fred whirled around and sprinted headlong through the debris towards his twin who had just entered the Hall, Lee Jordan at his side.
"Georgie! Thank God!"
George gave no indication of seeing him but, as Fred approached him, he let out a cry.
"George? Please, look at me? You can see me, right?"
But his brother ran right through him, tearing through the Hall toward his family. It couldn't be Fred…it just couldn't.
As George ran through his brother, Fred felt a piece of himself go with George. The agonizing scream that tore from his twin's lips hurt the most, though. The cry of a man who had lost everything.
"George! Please…" And, even as his twin dropped to his knees beside Fred's lifeless body, the truth hit Fred. He was dead. He could never come back completely. No one would ever know he was there. His own twin couldn't see him.
A mirror. George saw him, Fred just knew it. In the mirror. George had looked and for a moment, just a moment he had held the gaze.
Then he had thrown the mirror with horrid force against the door. Fred watched, tried to cry out and make George stop, George couldn't hear him. He walked, barefoot across the jagged shards and picked up the biggest piece.
"It's me…please…" Fred tried to hold back the choke in his voice, but it wavered nevertheless and, as his brother, horribly pale and thin, looked into the glass, a tear slid down his cheek and he muttered so softly.
Fred nodded, knowing full well George couldn't see him. "Oh please say you can hear me…"
But George looked away and turned the shard of mirror over and over in his hands. His feet were bleeding and Fred watched him wince as he walked, heavily, to his own bed. Dropping onto the pillow he buried his face in it and Fred tried to pretend that he didn't hear the sobs that would forever haunt him.
Fred watched his twin mournfully, calling out in vain from his perch at the end of what, in life, had been his own bed.
Hours later, Fred's vigil had fallen silent but still he refused to take his eyes from his brother. George had finally drifted into sleep though from his constant twitching it was not a peaceful one.
To Fred's shock his brother tumbled from his bed, jolting awake so quickly Fred doubted that he had even been asleep at all. Almost at once the living counterpart had dissolved into sobs, the worst Fred had witnessed. He wanted so to be able to go and hold his twin, to comfort him and tell him he would be alright. But that was hardly an option.
George had dragged himself upright and staggered, very haphazardly across the seven odd feet to Fred's cold, dusty bed. He fell onto it, his whole body wracking with sobs so severe Fred feared he couldn't breathe.
"George! George, please!" He cried out, vaulting over and trying to grab George's shoulders. He had never been so horribly disappointed when he could not make the contact.
Fred sunk to his knees on the floor beside his own bed. George was only half on it, weeping uncontrollably. It was more than enough to make Fred begin to do the same, choking back his own sobs he allowed the tears access to his cheeks.
"Georgie…George, I'm here! I'm right here, dammit!"
It was pointless but Fred did it anyway, reaching a hand forth to push through his twin's hair as their mother did.
George's sobs subsided for a moment, just a moment and he whimpered, lying there, his earless left side down. His eyes that had been clenched closed tightly, opened and he looked almost hopeful for a moment, his watery eyes flickering left and right.
Fred did not dare move his hand. "Could you feel that…Georgie?"
George's eyes clenched closed again, hope was lost once more and he allowed his grief to take him in its clutches.
Desperate now, Fred raised his voice and ran a hand quite literally through George's hair again.
He dropped his hand and began to tremble again. Almost resigned, he dropped his head forward over his chest and moved his hand to that of George's that hung off the bed. His head shot up as he felt, not nothing, but the cold and twitching skin of his brother's hand beneath the tips of his fingers.
George's sobs did not subside but he again opened his eyes at the tingling feeling on his hand.
Slowly Fred placed his hand atop George's.
The barely alive twin was still shivering terribly as he tried to compose his sobs. He could see nothing but could feel the unmistakeable sensation of a hand, strangely warm, taking his own.
"Fred?" He managed, his voice incredibly hoarse and quiet.
"Yeah…" Fred, his own voice thick with tears, whimpered "I'm right here, Georgie…" His heart leapt as George closed his own hand around Fred's invisible one.
"Don't give up…"
Slowly George stopped sobbing. He lay there on Fred's old bed, trembling awfully and hiccupping occasionally, his hand entwined with the invisible one of his twin who he now knew would always be with him.
There you go guys! Another oneshot for you! Hope you enjoyed it! Keep an eye out cause there are more coming!
P.S. (Reviews feed my inspiration :P) Hint hint