Into The Fire, George Weasley
Warnings: Mentions of war, mentions of death, angst
Prompt: “If you ever loved me then leave and never come back” for @wand3ringr0s3’s writing challenge
Taglist: @wand3ringr0s3 @schlongbottom @whizbangs-78 @hufflepuffgirly @vivianweasley @cappsikle @witch-and-a-half @lunalovecroft @oh-for-merlins-sake
At sixteen, if someone would have asked you where you saw yourself in four years, this would not have been what you pictured.
Only twenty years old, and yet you’d experienced enough loss and pain to carry it with you for a lifetime. And you couldn’t turn back the clock, you couldn’t change fate or beg for mercy — none would be a wish granted. It was out of your control, and all you had left to do now was keep moving forward.
It seemed almost impossible, though, to move forward when you still felt stuck in place, barely coming to terms with life as it would be. Not only had your nightmares taken form in the death of someone you loved, but everything you had known before was now out of place, broken apart or simply gone.
But worst of all, the man you had loved for several years, even as a young child, appeared to you as hardly more than a stranger. Every memory, every moment and word that had ever taken root between the two of you, it was all out of reach, as if it wasn’t meant for you anymore. All that you felt when you looked at him was agony. He only served as a reminder of every single thing you no longer had.
It was torment, to be touched by him, to listen to him, to see him. You didn’t find peace with him, and the home you shared didn’t quite feel like home. You could hardly even breathe when he was near, the walls around you only tightening until you felt as if you would shatter to pieces, merely to dust. And it was insufferable when the guilt of such a thing began to bubble up, burning in your veins and eating at your heart.
George didn’t deserve to fall victim to what you felt, not when he had spent all this time hurting just as you did, yet still choosing to help you and love you. He had lost just as much, and the honorable thing to do was to stay, to try mending what had been broken, to move forward together. But all you wanted, all you needed, was to walk away, to move forward alone.
So when the sun rose in the early morning hours and George still slept soundly in bed, you fled, only a minutes worth of hesitation, leaving behind everything apart from a messily packed suitcase, only a scribbled note serving as your goodbye.
Settling down in a new town, a small one at that, wasn’t the easiest thing you had done, but it was incredibly refreshing. To be surrounded by new faces and new architecture put you at ease, even if only a little, for there were few to no physical reminders of everything you’d been yearning to forget.
The first few months were tough — the nightmares hadn’t stopped, often disrupting your sleep and leaving you to sit awake in sweat and tears. And sometimes you’d catch sight of a ginger head of hair, the scent of cinnamon or cranberries, or the tune of a specific song that reminded you not only of the man you had left behind, but also the one that had left you.
George and Fred Weasley. You had found both love and friendship in one set of twins, the two ginger boys claiming you for themselves the very moment they had first met you. It was one of the few good things to come from your years at Hogwarts, actually. Every single day was filled to the brim with laughter, adventure, and contentment.
But you didn’t have hold on those things anymore. It had all been lost just as quickly as it had been found. Fred was gone, his life taken as a consequence of the war. And George, he was gone the minute you walked away.
Now, you were alone, desperately searching for replacements for all that you had lost.
And one by one, you found them. It was different, new to you, but that was exactly what you needed. You made a home out of a cozy loft, empty of any old memories in the form of photographs or knitted sweaters, a fresh canvas for you to paint with new memories. You even managed to snag the barista position at a nearby cafe. Free weekends were spent settled on a park bench with a good book, or in the quiet of your home with freshly brewed tea. You took everything day by day, by schedule and routine.
Soon enough, a year had passed you by, and you even met a new someone. A man, a muggle, someone simple, someone who could offer you a life of complete difference from the one you had with George. It was the final piece to the puzzle, really. Or, at least that’s what you convinced yourself was the final piece.
In what felt like such short time, he had moved in, and even proposed. But you took every step with him in stride, eager to keep moving forward, even if there was a tiny part of your heart that still belonged to the man you loved before, a part that still screamed his name.
You pushed it down though, hid it away, wore the ring that symbolized your life with this new man. And you did learn to love him, the same way you had loved George before it all went wrong. Or maybe not the same, but rather there was enough love to make life with him easy.
He was the one who held you now, the one who kissed you, touched you, wiped away your tears. You wore his sweaters, danced with him in the living room, shared a cup of tea on rainy days. Everything you had ever done with George, you now did with him, replacing the old with the new. Except this time around, you planned a wedding.
You were counting down the days until you walked the aisle, until you made the promise of a lifetime, to a man that didn’t quite look like the one you had expected to make such a promise to — there were only nine more days to go, nine more days to wonder about whether or not this was the right thing.
It was late, the clock ticking close to midnight, the moon and plenty of stars making their temporary visit in the sky. You sat in the living room, leaning into the cushions of the couch with a blanket loosely draped over your shoulders, daintily flipping through one of various wedding magazines. Your fiancé had bid his goodnight a few hours ago, already asleep in the bed, half of the space waiting for you. But your thoughts were especially hectic that night, and due to that, you were wide awake, unable to silence your newfound anxiety and fears.
Just as you were about to pour yourself a third cup of tea, a soft round of knocks against the wood of the front door distracted you. You certainly weren’t expecting anyone, and you knew better than to answer for a stranger, but your curiosity lead you over, hand quickly finding the doorknob and the door itself being pulled open soon after. Suddenly, you were face to face with the one person you thought you’d never see again.
“Oh, thank god,” There was a small smile tugging at his lips, his features softening in relief, “I was half certain I got the wrong place, again.”
“Again? George, what the bloody hell are you doing here? How did you find me?”
He bit his lip in hesitation, fumbling with his hands against his chest, “It’s rather easy to find someone when you know the right spells and all.”
You scoffed, moving to close the door, but his foot was quicker, stopping the door just before it came into contact with the frame.
“Please, just hear me out for a minute, alright? It’s the least you can do, after all this time.”
“Fine,” Opening the door wider, again, you leaned against the frame, arms crossed, “One minute. Go.”
“I miss you, okay? You left me, and I waited for you to come back, but you didn’t. You were all I had left, and suddenly you were gone, just like that. Do you have any idea what that does to a person?”
“I’m not done,” He stepped closer, his posture straightening with newfound confidence, “I want you to come back home. I don’t care about anything else, okay? You’ll come back home, and we’ll figure out the rest.”
“Why not? Give me one good reason.”
“I already am home, okay? This place, where I am now, this is my home. And I’m getting married, in nine days, George. I’m not walking away from that.”
George ran his hand through his hair in frustration, “Are you really going to stand there and tell me you want to marry him? Do you love him?”
As much as it sickened you to say the words to him, you stood your ground, “Yes. I love him. I want to marry him, I do. He’s good for me, okay?”
Your heart sank, an ache building up just as it did all that time ago, “George, please, I- you know why I left. I can’t give you what you want from me. I’m sorry.”
“But I loved you. I still do,” His chest was practically pressed against yours now, his breath brushing against your skin, his hand finding yours, fingers tangling together, still a perfect fit. You let your eyes flutter closed, breathing in his still familiar scent. “You loved me before, don’t you still love me now?”
Tears prickled at your eyes, building up to the brim until one by one they slipped down your heated cheeks, “I did love you. But I don’t anymore. I don’t love you,” There was a bitter saltiness on your tongue, “And if you ever loved me, then leave, and never come back.”
In quick motions, you leaned away from his touch, letting the door slam closed, causing him to stumble back, “Y/n, open the door! Please, love, just open the door.”
You clasped a hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your sobs as you slid to the floor, your back against the door.
“Baby, please, say something. Please don’t make me leave, not like this.”
You brought your knees up to your chest, burying your head into the fabric of your sweater, the tears spilling at a faster rate as you listened to his pleads. It was tearing you apart all over again, to lose him, all over again. But you stayed there, silent, listening to him give up and walk away, just as you had done before.
Only this time, it really was the end. And in nine days, you’d be married, George tucked into the back of your heart, again.
